Well it didn’t (of course) rain on the Battle of Flowers but it sure as hell did on Saturday morning.  It was steady as I headed off down to Val de la Mare reservoir and it only got heavier over the next two hours.  But you can only get so wet after which it doesn’t really matter.

This week, instead of heading down to the bay area from Grantez I cut across into the St Ouen badlands of Millais, Trodez etc.  There’s no better weather to plod around the mysterious network of lanes up that way.  The land reeks of temps passé, and a strong sense of Jersey’s pastoral history that clings to our modern times.  Crikey, there’s some nice properties up that way though – some no doubt inhabited by rich incomers who then complain about the countryside smells.

Past Maison des Landes where I’m passed by a cheery and lithe running chick who disappears up the lanes before I descend L’Etacq Hill with less haste than when in the closing stages of the Hash Half Marathon.  If I fancied a pint then there’s a fat chance in St Ouen these days.  The Parish used to be crawling with bars but now I believe that all that are left are the two in Grève de Lecq (Prince of Wales and Moulin de Lecq), the Farmers and the Chateau Plaisir.  Although I understand the sums no longer add up for many pubs it’s still sad.

Back down towards the reservoir and I take a little detour down Rue des Marettes, dodging the golf club traffic.  I want to take a closer look at that German railway line down from its bridge across Route du Moulin.  And now I see that the embankment is in fact intact and very prominent, save that it has been levelled for agriculture in the field immediately below the bridge.  The embankment runs as far as the present golf club.  The sole purpose of these German railway lines were not of course to provide pleasant spins in the country but to act as conduits for the building materials for the vast amount of works that they threw up in a few short years, many of which of course remain.  At the top of the dam I stop the Garmin and see if it is feasible to get onto the ridge that carried the line but the gorse and brambles are too thick and I just look like a dodgy bloke who’s nipped in there for a pee.

A very pleasant 11.5 miles at my Cork Marathon pace of 10.10m/m.  Now to knock off this 1,000 mile target before looking at my programme again.

Miles on the week – 32.4
Miles ytd – 980.7

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