China Diary 6: 28/7/03
So why has the unfit, mother-of-two (yes there is a comma) signed up to a challenging trek for the Meningitis Research Foundation along the Great Wall of China?

Four weeks to go and I've just returned from what I can undoubtedly say was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. And I have a witness to support it.

Was it an armed encounter, a one-to-one with a lion or a horror movie? No, it was a walk through the Hertfordshire countryside.

To be specific, it was Walk 18 from the book 24 Footpath Walks - covering Flamstead, Great Gaddesden, Jockey End - which I have now marked down as a never-to-be repeated experience.

It wasn't the 10.8 miles that did me in - it was the encounters with so-called domestic animals that left me and my walking companion Angie shaking with fear.

The walk didn't start off very well, with us losing our way within one mile of the start, finding ourselves in a field with no resemblance to the written directions of a "headland path" (surely that should involve a cliff). Luckily two passing horseriders pointed us vaguely in the correct direction.

This week in the local St Albans newspaper The Herts Ad there was a story about a man who tragically died on holiday after being attacked by cows.

Angie and I discussed how unlikely this scenario must be as we noted out footpath crossed over a stile into a field with six horses.

The foals were gaily running about and, in a moment of madness, I decided to play my new ringtone to Angie (Beautiful by the beautiful Robbie Williams although it sounds more like Bontempi Karaoke gone awry)

This sent the foals over the edge and they started running very close to us, in a playful but worrying manner. There was no way back so we walked faster towards the stile at the other end of the field.

Unfortunately the foals' mothers seemed a little unhappy with us coming so close to their children - and started trying to get between them and us. Horses are not small and these were within a brush or a kicking stroke of us. There was no escape as the horses in the adjoining field were running alongside us in excited interest.

So we broke off into a slight trot, then a canter then a full blow gallop with foals and anxious mares hot on our heels. Later we realised we had stumbled into a stud farm.

A few miles onwards, we were merrily walking around a field when we realised our next stile was hidden in a crowd of cows.

We chose our angle of approach with care but I still was faced with coming within one metre of the back end of a cow. "Good girl, good girl, " I told the black and white creature with all hope of sounding like an experienced farmer.

We thought we were in safety of a fenced field then - only to discover one of the pack of cows laying in wait for us, leaving us with no choice but to scramble round some nettles to get away.

Crossing the next stile, we thought we had put the cows behind us - only to find three trying to camouflage themselves in a cornfield. I regret not having my camera for that shot.

One small step for me ...

There seemed to be animals all around us - squirrels, a deer, rabbits and lots of evidence of foxes from feathers left here and there.

We laughed with nervous anticipation when we then realised we had a field to cross which contained a flock of sheep sheltering under a tree to keep out of the rain. Sheep? What harm can sheep do?

We felt quietly confident that all would be well - after all Angie had been on an African safari and hardly blinked when a lion jumped on her Landrover.

Then we saw a pack of HUGE cows/bulls in the next field running straight at us. It was like something from Pampolona. They looked downright dejected when they realised there was barbed wire between them and the increasingly pale walkers.

We even thought of phoning a friend just to let them know our exact location so that our bodies would be found easily after being attacked by cows/horses/sheep.

From then on, the walk became more and more like a comedy. When we tried to get a rest and some food, the pub clearly marked on the map had been turned into a house.

Each field we were supposed to traverse seemed to be filled with more and more animals. After passing four cows we saw three horses ahead and as one had such an evil glimpse in his eye we climbed under some barbed wire to find an alternative route (and also picked up a stick each).

Sadly we came to the point of no return. Two black horses blocked the stile, another two stallions stood sentinel on an alternative field and the three horses we had carefully bypassed had tracked us down.

And the only path we could take had a 6ft fence at the end and two border collies guarding the adjoining fence.

There was no way forward except to jump over a barbed wire fence, run across a small field which we hoped the dogs couldn't get into - and then crawl under a hedge into the garden of the dogs' home.

Here we were greeted by a bemused gentleman who was watering his garden and somewhat surprised by the sudden appearance of two crawling women.

We were by then, in desperate need of some refreshment and nourishment. A small girl passed us, giving us a bemused look and we asked her if there was a pub nearby. "Is it far away?" we asked. "Not if you go in a car," she replied.

So that was out and instead we sat on a bench in Gaddesden Row, solemnly drinking our water and eating the only thing we had - a packet of dried apricots.

By the time we finally reached the end of our ordeal the pub at the end had finished serving food and we had to sit over a pint of blackcurrant cordial, a packet of crisps and look back on our domestic animal encounter.

And tomorrow I'm going to do it all again, although I've chosen a route through a local housing estate which I hope doesn't have any farm animals.

Find out more here about how much I've raised so far.

The BBC is not responsible for the content of external websites.

The Gardener's Diary