South Downs day 6: We have ourselves a swim to Amberley

Oh, the rain!  The papers would later call it "WETTEST BANK HOLIDAY EVER!".  Who am I to argue?

Despite the fact we did a pretty good clip the day before and we had been in bed and asleep by 9:30, we woke refreshed and ready to go.  The inn we stayed- The MoonLight Cottage- gets my raves forever as the woman who runs it is actually a good cook.  Not only was the cake excellent, but breakfast was spot-on, and she had lovely touches like plain, unsweetened yogurt and good organic ingredients.  The packed lunch was probably the best we've had on the trail as well.  

It made the morning all the more sweeter.     

We were carrying our light packs, which we don't have rain covers for, so we carefully packed up all of our stuff in big heavy-duty ziplock bags.  Including my camera.  I was phone-reliant for the day.

We headed back up the now slippery slope.  We passed a farm near the trail side.  A huge dog came running out- it had a face like a German Sheppard, but it was much bigger and had shaggy black fur.  It didn't bark or growl, but it came running at us very alert looking.  At the last minute, he stopped, and put his giant head on my leg and looked up with big brown eyes.  Thanks for making my wet pants wetter, you stupid sweet dog.

It wasn't so bad.  At first, anyway.  It rained, it drizzled.  We had crap visibility.  It's days like this where you get concerned about losing the trail.  We had very little view, of anything, making it really easy to get disoriented.  I just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

It was beautiful.  It was still.  There was no one out at all.  It was other-worldly and calm and misty and magical.

Something we hadn't seen on the trail before:

Sunflowers!  A huge field of them.

This one made me laugh- it was the only one out of the whole bunch that was facing the wrong way, and it looked beat up because of it.  This is why I walk from West to East here.  You want the rain and wind at your back whenever possible!

We stopped really briefly to eat our sandwiches while standing under a big pine tree, which was about the driest place we could imagine finding.

The low visibility made you look extra hard at anything that you could see, and everything was eerie and ominous and beautiful.

At this point, we were up on the ridge with the rain pelting us ferociously.   Despite our waterproof jackets and trousers and boots, we were soon soaked to the skin.  I figured it was like a wetsuit, and my body heat was keeping a nice layer of water warmed up.  I don't think I've been out when it is raining so hard that your hooded rainproof jacket became useless- the wind was just blowing too hard for anything to be watertight.  As long as I didn't stop, I felt okay, but the moment I paused, I would start feeling really unpleasant.  I didn't mind so much, except my socks wicked up enough water to soak my feet, and I was squishing water out of my boots with every slippery step.

Rather hilariously, my shirt fell apart completely.  It was one of those merino layers that I love to wear on the trail so much.  I went to tug on the hemline and was surprised to find I had managed to tear a huge chunk off the back of my shirt.  Further poking and prodding revealed the whole shirt was easily persuaded to transform into tatters, and it was staying on only by adhering to my wet skin.  Something about the wet and the friction and the wool meant I was walking in nothing but my sports bra and a few mangy tatters of what used to be my shirt.  I...I had just never had that happen before.  

Yup.

We went through a huge farm that was practicing lots of sustainability and organic methods, which seemed really cool.  We could barely stop to read all the signs they had posted at the gates, the water was just pelting us too hard.

We did encounter one other walker coming towards us.  We barely saw each other until we were almost on top of him.  "WHY ARE WE DOING THIS?" he yelled our way.  "BECAUSE IT IS FUN!" I yelled back.

And it was.

The only thing I remember seeing the rest of the day was a sign post at the old Roman Road we crossed.

This might have been the fastest we ever walked 13 miles before.  Despite that the trail was becoming a slippery white-chalk mess, we booked it and arrived at the pub less than 6 hours from when we set out.  With nothing to stop and admire, we made really good time.

We got to the pub in Amberley.  We were in desperate need of a change of clothes and a pint, I hesitated at the door.  I was beyond soaking, and I knew that every step I took would leave a huge pool of water on the floor.  I went for it anyway, and locked myself in the bathroom and dried up and put on clean clothes.  I ended up having to mop up the bathroom floor because I flooded it while wringing out my clothes in the sink.  Well, except for the shirt.  That just went into the bin once I figured out how to scrape every last bit of it off.

Dry clothes never felt so good.  The pub was really warm and friendly, and we could peer out the back and see the board at the train station, so I'm going to say it was convenient as well.  We got some drinks and some nibbles and relaxed by the late-August fireplace.

Oh, and the only real damage?  The phone that went for a swim in the Lake District a few weeks back and managed to survive.  A waterproof pocket ended up being not-so-waterproof, and the poor phone drowned for good this time.

Even after all that, we felt good.  It had been uncomfortable being so wet for so long, but we had walked nearly 30 miles over two days and we still felt fresh and energetic.  However, we wouldn't turn down a chance to sit down by the fire.  We're not that nutty.

I'm actually kind of sad that we only have two more days of walking on this trail.

The Dyepot finally gets some love

Sunday morning I awoke to the pitterpat of a torrential downpour gently lulling me out of my slumber. Cool, rainy weather means only one thing: time to stew up some dyes.

I pulled out my long-neglected dyepot and the acid dyes and begun to mix colors. Whatever my mood is tends to be reflected in the final product...and for whatever reason my mood was purple that day. I feel bruised, perhaps? Naw, more like hungry for plums and eggplants and grapes. Oh, and squash as well.

Here are my victims:



I went stash-diving and pulled out some boring white wool I had tucked away. 4 oz of BFL, 2 oz of a nice Falkland and 2 oz of kid mohair.

Mohair sucks up dye brilliantly. It has high luster and it absolutely begs to be something flashy.



I had a squash on the the countertop and a huge sugar pumkin from the food share that made do this. Now if I can only figure out what the pumpkin wants to be. Please, don't say pie. We don't need pie.

Another victim of the dyepot was a bag of white Icicle.



I had an 8oz bag that came along with my carder. It's a little sparkly but not too glitzy. It's made up out of nylon, but I was cautious with it- i was afraid that I might melt it into something toxic, or worse, uncardable, so I really kept the heat down. I applied dye and really had to press it to convince it to soak up the dye. Even after soaking it in the dye jar, i was still seeing a lot of white in the center. Nylon does not wick like wool does, and it is far from absorbent. Since this was going to be thrown on the carder eventually, I didn't take too much time worrying about it.

Here are the end results:



OH my MOHAIR. That is bright! And I'm very happy with the falkland and the bfl.

And here is the Icicle:


The purple I used on the Icicle was the same that I used on the BFL! Crazy, right? It's completely different on the nylon.

I still have a bunch of silk and some faux cashmere (don't ask. or go ahead and ask. I'll tell you about it later) and some more white wool that needs its turn in the dyepot, and also some lovely cashmere and angora and cashmere silk blends that need an extra special day in the dyepot when I'm feeling especially brave.

It's almost enough for me to wish for another rainy weekend.

Overcast

It's done nothing but rain and be unseasonably cool out for the past two weeks and the weather forecast shows no signs of letting this up. It pleased me somewhat (perversely?) that it was cold enough last night to thrown on a pair of knit socks- I thought my feet would not be graced by their presence again until Rhinebeck time. There is something very wrong about wearing winter woolies in mid-June. I'm trying to stay upbeat about this situation.

Usually I'm a wee bit tan by now and headed to laze on the beach on the weekends. I would sit out in the park at lunch, knit a bit of something cotton or silk and people-watch while sipping ice tea. I haven't had to put the AC window unit in yet (more money for yarn) or have ice cream for lunch (thighs are okay with this), or mortify myself donning swimwear. I haven't had to get sunburn or bug bites and I have yet to lose or break a pair of sunglasses. Umbrellas have not fared so well- I've lost pretty much my entire stash of those.

Oh, and I've been making spindles like mad.







Granted that it's been awfully tough to find a dry spot with good light to photograph them, they've been great fun to create and test out. They can be found on my etsy store, Knot My Day Job.