Wrexham County Borough 22 - Bangor on Dee / the walk to Pickhill/ Traffic / the hole in my shoe

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This time last year we had little idea what was ahead of us. No thoughts of what was happening next . We had no idea we would be in lockdown the next week . As I walked along the riverbank I mused . What did I think this time last year? I was blissfully ignorant of what was coming round the corner . Something that would change our lives possibly for ever . I had gone onto Google Earth this morning to work out my route for walking . The other side of the river beckoned and I found a path that skirted ther rivers edge and would take me up to Pickhill. I did not expect any problems as the route seemed easy enough . I set off in the bright sunshine of a lovely Spring day. The chill of the night had worn off as the sun rose . The river looked benign. It had none of the ferocity of a few weeks back . It took on a much calmer appearance as it rippled over the stone in the water and ran over the tree branches that had fallen in. It had a calming effect on me as I watched it from the river bank . The blue tits and robins were singing away . No quite the dawn chorus but not far off it as they were joined in song by the blackbirds.

The fishermen were out . The river is famous for its salmon and trout, Not quite as famous as the Scottish Dee but good enough for the two fishermen on the riverbank . One wading into the water casting his flies and the other working on his rod before he too took to the water . The salmon season starts on Monday and these fishermen seemed to be a couple of days early for the season start .

In the distance I could hear the thrum of the traffic on the main road . Occasionally I would get a glimpse of the cars as they drove by . Not close enough to bother me . The road which had been closed for repairs had opened early. I was far enough away not to notice them too much . I spotted the gate in the distance and headed for it . Slightly deviating from the river I found myself on a small bridge . Below me was a muddy stretch of water . A tiny almost stagnant water course slowly heading its way to the much bigger Dee. A sign warned me not to fall in . It was deep water. Health and safety gone mad . As a child we would have spent hours by that sort of stream . Poking sticks in and trying to catch whatever small fish passed us by . We would have climbed down and back up those dangerous banks and given no thought whatsoever of any danger .

The next field had been manured recently by the farmer . I had no choice but to cross it and head for the pumping station . Luckily the weather had been dry and the manure had hardened and caused me no problem however by this time I noticed something else . My toes were feeling cold . My sock on my left foot was sodden . I had developed a hole in my shoe which was letting in water . I was grateful that it was only water being let in . The second field I had to cross which would take me to the road was full of very wet manure . I picked my way gingerly across wondering what on earth I was doing .

Pickhill had little to offer and I was still too close to home to return . I continued walking and found myself outside the Maelor Creamery . It had once been Dairy Crest . There were a few cars there but very little life . A path headed round the side and I thought it might take me back to the river and afford me a riverside walk home . Sadly it seemed to head off in the wrong direction . I could see where I wanted to head to but it meant climbing down a steep bank. One that could see me sliding to the bottom and breaking a bone . As I was in the middle of nowhere and had no phone signal I chose to retrace my steps . Perhaps another day I might find a way round and try it again . A job once home would be to Google earth it again and see if I could work out a way that would bring me full circle.

So this time last year I did not expect to be here walking on the riverbank nor did I expect Covid would change our lives so dramatically but here we are and making the best of it.

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