Walking across the 60 to 70 degree plus hillside of Hod Hill which leads down to the River Stour, the clay/loose chalk scree surface made extra slippery and dangerous by the rain which was periodically falling and weighed down by my stupidly large pack, it didn't take me long to realize the lunacy of my action. Although, it was long enough for me to have committed myself to continuing as I'd reached the point of pointless return. At least I had the numerous coppiced Hazels to hang on to. Though that didn't stop images of me slipping, tumbling, crashing into afore mentioned trees, before splashing into the chilly waters of Stour, filling my mind. In truth I was more worried for my hound, although he appeared to be enjoying it as ever. My photo doesn't do the severity of the hillside justice, nor can in convey the sensation of walking on a sloping oiled surface. Still, we live and learn, well, in my case I live and don't learn. I've done this before and I'm certain on my next visit I'll do the same again, me and groundhog day are firm friends. It did though re-enforce my view that any attacker seeking access to the fort above me would have most certainly chosen an alternative route.
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