Uffington

County - Oxfordshire

Elevation - 261m

Date - 16 July 2016

Distance - 7km

Elevation climbed - 201m

On a stunning summer's day I smashed my second County Top...and was totally unaware of the feat.

We had been staying at the local campsite for a weekend with friends, Glenda and Matthew. They lived in nearby Wiltshire and so were at the site in advance of us, meaning that they were to select the prime spot in the field.

The campsite was excellent, although its situation on the edge of a ridge left it somewhat open to the elements. To my surprise, Glenda and Matt had chosen a spot well away from other campers at the highest point of the campsite.

"Won't this be a bit exposed?" I asked, chasing my wind-strewn hat as I was blown from the car.

"Nah, it's better this way. Keeps us away from the riffraff".

I figured they were more experienced campers than I, and set to the al fresco Ikea build of tent erection, accompanied by a welcome beer.

The next afternoon, tired of campsite games, we set off on a walk up the ridge behind us and out to the famous Uffington White Horse, etched into the hillside by the ancients and a short distance from the campsite. It was a beautiful day as we strode to the top, skylarks ascending, crickets singing as the sun shone upon us. Soon we were at the ancient hillfort staring down on the horse's bum.

View from the hillfort

One of the problems with ancient monuments is that quite frankly they are better viewed from afar. The kids could not have given less of a monkeys and the only way they knew that this was actually a horse is when they were shown it on the phone.

I would be lying if I said I'd taken this pic

We descended back down into the valley and across the floor to the village of Woolstone, and in particular the excellent White Horse pub and its range of marvellous IPAs and ciders, which I heartily enjoyed alongside a decent meal before staggering back to the campsite, having smashed the County Top (not that we knew).

Like a real man I lit the campfire and Matthew and I got tucked into the beers. The night drew in, the wine came out, then the whisky, and at some point the wind got up again and I called it a night and staggered into bed.

Accounts of that evening are hazy...I was vaguely aware of some shouting and some unusual lights, but the combination of exercise and alcohol saw me sleep soundly. The next morning my aching head was confronted by a tangle of scorched steel and melted plastic...

It seems that after I'd gone to bed I'd left the fire ablaze in the gale force winds...the same winds which had blown the camping chairs directly into the fire, which consumed them greedily. Thankfully another camper had seen the conflagration and put the fire out whilst I snored oblivious.

Turns out these chairs weren't fireproof after all

I've not been back.