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"Malcolm, do you want to do a 14-mile walk?"
On any ordinary day the answer would've been an emphatic "no". But if you then sell it in such a way:
- the mayor will be there;
- you'll be taking part in a traditional 'beating of the bounds';
- it only happens once every 7 years;
and then add a sweetener:
- no dogs allowed
then my curiosity starts to take over.
Do the whole walk? Nonsense, I'll just go and see the spectacle. The pomp. The traditions.
And so it was on a Tuesday afternoon I found myself heading north to Richmond.
I took a detour to County Durham - specifically the village of Crayke to see Crayke Castle. Crayke is an exclave of County Durham in the middle of Yorkshire according to the historic boundaries.
Crayke Castle is private, so a fleeting visit and on to Brompton-on-Swale, where I'd secured a cheap bed for the night.
I started early today to avoid road closures and get a good parking spot, one of the last free on-road spaces. I then grabbed breakfast and waited for the spectacle to begin.
Was I going to walk the whole thing? The idea had been growing, festering inside me. My ankles had been better since going back to driving a manual transmission car, let's see how it goes, let's decide after a bit of walking.
After my Greggs breakfast, I spoke with the vice mayor who shewed me a map of the route. It was long, skirting around town, then far out to the west into the moorland. Perfect. It crossed a golf course which was an ideal place to call it quits if ankles, feet or stamina demands it. There was an initial speech, then bagpipers led us to the outskirts of town.
Two halberdiers, who flanked the mayor during the initial speeches, didn't join (at least not with halberds), but at the head of the mayoral party was the "pinder", an axe-wielding official to chop away vegetation. In actual fact, they'd prepared the route with strimmers a few days earlier.
We were led to a bridge over the Swale, where the first proclamation was made and money thrown into the air. We then followed the river to a specific place where the mayor, now out of ceremonial clothes, waded into the river whilst another declaration was made. The mayoral party all shed their gowns and fancy hats except the mayors chain, which he wore the whole time.
We turned away from the river, another declaration.
"Oh yay! Oh yay! Oh yay!
I do, in the name of the mayor, aldermen and burgesses of the Borough of Richmond, Lords of the Manor in the Borough of Richmond in the County of York, hereby proclaim and declare that this is the ancient and undoubted boundary of the said manor and borough with the manor and lordships of Skeeby. God Save The King and the Lords of the Manors!"
The crowd then responded "God Save The King!" No money was thrown after the first proclamation.
I was right at the front of a crowd that some suggested might be 900 strong. As we walked up hills and across fields, the crowds snaked behind us. Traffic was stopped so our vast horde could cross roads.
We crossed farm fields, crushing the stalks of recently harvested wheat beneath our shoes. Through a narrow wooded alley. Down a hill. Up another hill. Every-so-often, we paused for a proclamation or just to let the crowd catch up.
At one point the mayor performed another of the traditions, throwing a stone over a house. This is in recognition that the boundary goes through the house plot.
Eventually there was a coffee stop. I made use of the portaloos and rested my legs. I felt okay. This was an ideal time to pull out. I'd seen the traditions, I'd done a fair few miles, I was still near the town.
But I felt okay. I decided to continue to the golf course.
When we set off again, we were at the golf course within a few minutes and it seemed silly to change my mind. So I walked on, often walking alongside the lads of 1st Battalion REME who were accompanying us and helping the organisers when needed.
We entered a race course and I found myself walking alongside the town crier. I asked her how long there was to go. I was expecting we'd done 6 miles by now, but I was told (by someone with a tracking device) that we'd done 4½.
As I walked on, my energy started to seep away. The realisation that we had 9½ miles to go was not helpful. At one point I was walking side-by-side with the mayor, we crossed a small stream together. But he got farther and farther away as my pace slowed and my energy collapsed. I considered quitting, but by now I was far to the west of town and the route back wasn't appealing.
I was already out of water, but resorted to eating the rest of my chocolate mini rolls. They did the trick and I carried on over the normally inaccessible private moors until the next stop. 7 miles in. Half way.
Here the mayor threw another stone and although I was talking with him as he had the stone in his hand. I missed the throw.
No windows were broken this time.
Now the motivation was lunch. A lunch stop was promised with free water, free beer and a nice long rest.
I needed that rest. My energy recovered and when we set off again I felt fine. Bouyed by people saying that this bit was easy. But then it started to rain, and would do so for most of the afternoon.
I chose a bad time to queue up for a pork roll, the mayoral party set off whilst I was still getting it and I never saw them again.
I heard them, by the river. I heard the town crier's bell and the crowd yell "God Save The King", another point when the mayor was in the water. But I didn't see it myself.
I made some effort to catch them up, but was foiled by a style, which delayed us all as effectively as that toll booth in Blazing Saddles.
But from here it was a simple walk back to town, most of which I spent talking with the organizer. By now it felt like a walk back to the car after a tiring day out, which I guess was exactly what it was.
At the end, there was a tent with more water and a certificate for all who completed the walk.
I'd done it! I'd actually done it! 14 bloody miles! What was I thinking? But I'd done it.
As I emerged from the field back into Richmond, my car was right there. I dumped the certificate and my supplies into the car and walked into town for a cup of tea.
I got talking to an old gentleman who complemented me on my car parking location. We chatted as we walked into town - he had done it once before - 70 years ago as a child, which I thought was pretty amazing.
14 bloody miles! Who'd have thought it?
I retreated to a pub, nursed a cup of tea and had a steak and ale pie. Then a 3-hour drive home.
14 miles! I must've been nuts!