The situation was agonising to say the least. I'd just dropped Son the Elder off in Oxford for a day of roboteering when my left shoulder - the nominally non-impinged one, which had been muttering under its breath since the previous day, but which I'd chosen not to indulge - decided to have a full-on tantrum, with pain shrieking down my arm and into my wrist and hand. Luckily, StE managed to arrange an alternative lift for the home leg, which meant I wouldn't have to hang around all day. I still had to drive the seventy miles back home, though, which promised to be tortuous.
Back in the sunlit uplands of pre-pain, I'd planned a tour of churches with connections to the Arts and Crafts Movement, followed by a walk along the dream-road that is the Ridgeway to Waylands Smithy, which I'd never visited, despite having paid my respects to the Uffington White Horse on several occasions. I decided the churches could bide their time for now, but since the White Horse car park was more or less en route, why not break my journey and give my arm a bit of a rest by doing that part of my itinerary?

The ancient Ridgeway is a track running from Overton Hill near the West Kennet long barrow in Wiltshire to Ivinghoe Beacon in Buckinghamshire. Son the Younger and I walked the southernmost end back in January 2020, with our old dog, Ted.
Somehow, despite running through the heart of Southern England, it manages to be quite remote, and has many ancient archaelogical features along its length, including numerous hill forts to defend what was an important trading route, long and round barrows, and the Uffington White Horse, plus - nearby - Avebury Stone Circles and Silbury Hill.

Just under a mile and a half to the south east of White Horse Hill car park is Wayland's Smithy, so I set off, ignoring the ache in my arm. It was a joy to feel the old chalk path under my feet again. I don't what it is about chalk that draws me - it's not a landscape from my childhood - but I love its light, both during the day and at night, as well as the grasses and flowers that grow in it, which, on this day, were telling a story about the end of summer.
CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT: Meadow Crane's-Bill; Field Bindweed; Kidney Vetch; Tufted Vetch; Weld; Climbing (Woody) Nightshade; Butter-and-Eggs (Toadflax); Lady's Bedstraw; Field-Scabious; Red Bartsia; Burnet-Saxifrage; Yarrow; Spear Thistle; Harebell; Knapweed; Red Campion; Hogweed; Field Scabious again; Great Hairy Willowherb; Bird's-Foot-Trefoil
Shrill Carder Bee

For much of the time a red kite circled overhead, so I kept scanning the ground, as I'd love to add a red kite feather to my collection, but the track is well frequented and, as last year at Watlington Hill, I had no luck.
Looking back to White Horse Hill
Wayland's Smithy reminded me very much of West Kennet long barrow, except you can't get inside it. It's actually two barrows constructed one on top of the other, with the remains of fourteen people having been discovered inside the earlier construction.
It felt very special, very atmospheric there.
I then retraced my steps along the Ridgeway and then climbed White Horse Hill.
Looking back the way I came
My arm was pretty painful still, so I decided, as I'd done it some years ago, not to explore the hill fort this time. I did wince my way up to the vantage point near the Horse's head, though, and it was worth it.
The dry valley that is the Manger
Next time I must make sure my route takes me over Woolstone Hill, the best vantage point for the Horse (other than a hot air balloon). And not leave it so long before I get chalk beneath my boots again.