The Ridgeway: Well Traveled & Muddy; Locals II: The Fountain

 Back in 1969, an obscure historical drama appeared on film, King Alfred the Great, featuring David Lemmings as the eponymous monarch and Michael York as his godless, Danish foeman. Young Alfred, a bookish and pious sort, has the crown thrust upon him in a critical hour after the deaths of his father and elder brother.

Nonetheless, he takes up the sword and combing the intellectual curiosity that is his defining trait with the martial spirit he must invoke as king,  humbles the fearsome Dane. It doesn't quite hew to history, but you get the picture. It took a bit longer for Alfred to quell the Danes than the movie implies.

Alfred was born in the 9th century at a place called Wantage , about 2.5 hours driving time from here and near there he squared off in the one of the more impressive fights he and his followers had with the Danes, the Battle of Ashdown. The past weekend, I took a drive to Wantage and from there up to The Ridgeway, a trail in use since prehistoric times. My walk took me along the top of the ridge overlooking the downs and the towns of Wantage and Letcombe Regis, perhaps on the very ground on which the English schooled the Danes.

From Wantage, the B4494 heads south to a parking lot just off the roadside where the highway tops the ridge. The photo above is The Ridgeway itself, about 2 miles farther west, just west of its intersection with the A338. I was spurred to this trek by an article in the New York Times travel section. The writer reported meeting practically no one along the first leg of his journey. That wasn't my experience. I encountered all sorts of people, including backpackers, day trippers, bicyclists, dog walkers, you name it.

The day turned warm and clear after morning overcast divided into pleasant cumulus. The way was muddy and the chalk soil made for a slick surface when wet. The view from atop the ridge is worth the effort, nonetheless. The view at right, looking north, is of the northwest curve of Segsbury, a large, circular Iron Age fort. It's basically a ringed earthen wall with an accompanying ditch along the exterior. Sheep graze the inner precinct and farmland surrounds the whole thing. I got a late start and having to pick my way past puddles and through mud flats slowed progress, but the area has lots of potential so I'm sure one day I'll return.

Locals: The Fountain

Keeping up the series on local pubs, this week's focus is The Fountain.  This pub is a freehouse, unlike the Prince Albert, the first featured pub, which is a tied house. A tied house is tied to particular brewer and serves only its products, in Albert's case, the Greene King, which is based in nearby Bury St. Edmunds. A freehouse, like the name implies, is free to tap whatever beer the pubkeeper prefers. You can always find a pint of London Pride, a product of Fuller's brewing, or Broadside, an Adnan's product, at The Fountain. Brit ales have a little higher alcohol content than most Americans are accustomed to, but with names like Spitfire, Broadside and Bombardier, don't say you weren't warned.

The Good Pub Guide recommends The Fountain as a distinctly cerebral place. No jukebox or video gambling machine, ubiquitous in most other public houses, litter the interior. Depictions of the nearby Ely Cathedral in whatever form -- drawings, rubbings, paintings, poster art and photographs -- populate the walls. My favorite is a large, framed copy of a print of the Pink Floyd album cover from Division Bell. (Look close between the two heads, that's Ely Cathedral.) A warm fire is usually burning in winter in the fireplace. A couple of lithe young blonds are handy at the taps. Friday evening is the best time, in my experience, to find the atmosphere that typifies a good English pub. Elians find The Fountain a welcome release for friendly conversation after the work week. Chatty groups of friends or workmates are knotted at the bar or clustered around the pub tables. It's a diverse group that patronizes this pub. Once last year a group of young people obviously coming from the Brit version of their high school prom staked out the doorway and sidewalk just outside. The Fountain, incidentally, is Kelley's favorite haunt.

Speaking of Which...

The wife reports she is settled in comfortably in FOB Gardez and it appears she has her own room with a mattress topper and a fan. Birds nest in the roof above. The nature of communication disallows quick follow-up questions, so that's the picture I'll leave readers with for now. 


She writes that she's bonding with the Afghan radio DJs with whom she works. A group of two or three of them brought lunch one day from their homes. Forgive me but all I can remember of the three dishes she described is rice with julienned carrots and raisins. Yum. Now she has to reciprocate, but all that's available to her are the chow hall, where everyone eats anyway, and a subpar Afghan restaurant in the FOB. One makes do, I suppose.

She also sampled some yogurt obtained locally for her by a senior citizen Afghan-American who signed on as an interpreter with our forces.

She also reports that within a short matter of time she'll make her first foray outside the wire. I'm certain that she'll do superbly on whatever mission takes her out on her first encounter with the locals. She's been training for months and can't help but be ready.