23rd OCT. GARBETT HALL TO ROWNAL FARM nr. Montgomery

The day started in more wet mist. Both J and I were irritable and argued over stupid little things. We ended up walking for the first couple of miles with 100 metres between us.
We had no views below but the actual Dyke was quite well defined and probably the best along this stretch.  Considering the Dyke was built 500 years after Hadrians Wall it is pretty naff!
The stretch to Llanfair Hill was easy going and for a change not to muddy. That was the good bit because after that we had steep muddy falling over slip slidding downs and the same but near crawling ups . In a stretch of the four miles we had exhausting five helter skelter rides and we didn't throw our arms up willingly. What it did do was give  J and I a much needed bonding session picking each other up.
At Churchtown , which is a church minus the town ,we had a lunch of marmalade sandwiches and tea. We charged our phones for half an hour and gave a donation to the church funds to stop us feeling guilty. I am sure He would of Ok'd it!
The route after lunch was slow and labourious. We were wet,muddy,   our feet were soaked and prune like .The path seemed to be shared with a couple of hundred sheep and cattle as it was so chewed up.
At Mellington Hall the route levelled off as we were approaching the Camlad flood plain. We slipped from Wales with its ARAF/SLOW on the roads into Shropshire with its just SLOW, only Welsh speakers beware!
We had a fairly direct route north either on or next to the Dyke skirting ploughed fields and late maize and neeps , I think J filled up
on the latter eating them like apples.
Passing a small paddock with stocky rams J said " Their balls are so big I just want to punch them " , he mimed a boxers punch ball , it was so off the cuff I almost slipped over laughing.
We were exhausted, feeling like we had walked 20 miles but barely scraping 15.
Asking at Rownal farm for a pitch. It was no bother and when asking if we were in Wales or England the chap said" England sadly, I am half Scottish half Welsh."
We pitched on the actual Dyke struggling with one of the flex poles which I was able to bodge to give us a shelter. Instead of a hoop it was more like a ridge tent, I was glad it wasn't windy.
That evening we had soup with pasta to bulk it out, listening to our individual radios and feeling damp but muggy at the same time. We stank,  our socks stank, smelling of ammonia . We had a good signal for for the mobile so I sought a bunk barn near Welshpool to phone tomorrow exhausting the limited battery. It was the fourth night in a row under the tent but felt like a month. The constant damp had taken its toll.