As I packed the ‘van I had that funny feeling in my stomach.
The one telling me not to leave. Not to go away for that one night.
Leaving the family is one of the hardest things I do. Most of the time it is because I have to go to London, and the start is an early one, so it makes more sense to go the night before.
But this time, the start wasn’t particularly early.
I could’ve easily got up at 6 am, left at 6.45, and been where I need to be by 8.30.
But I wanted to kick off my 20in22. I want to succeed at this. I want to see places, I want to visit campsites, and I want to see more of this great country.
As soon as I hit the road and get excited the melancholy I was feeling earlier subsides and is replaced with excitement for the trip, the new campground and the new sights I hope to see.
This is Day 1, Campsite 1 and County 1 of my 20in22. If you don’t know what that is, then check out this post. It will explain everything.
Then, come back here and carry on!!
Leaving the House
I aimed to leave the house at midday, but am 5 minutes late. I can live with that. Most of the time it is 30 minutes, an hour maybe, so 5 minutes is acceptable.
The drive to my first stop was a rather pleasant one.
There is a 5-minute delay as I joined the first motorway, thanks to Motorway Traffic Officers backing us up.
But, the further away from Southampton I got, the better the roads become. There are no real incidents to write about.
The music is on, the sky is blue, and life is generally pretty good.
From over a mile away I can see it.
Perched high on a hill, in an attempt to garner as much of the Wiltshire wind as possible I presume.
The open roads I enjoy quickly turn into narrower ones. Not quite single lanes, maybe single and a half. Certainly not narrow enough to be concerned about traffic coming the other way.
The Windmill
I arrive at Wilton Windmill pretty much at the time that Google Maps told me I would when I left.
Research before prepared me for the fact that the mill itself was closed as it doesn’t open until April time, but thankfully, you could park nearby and walk around it.
I pull into the only parking available. A small layby with 2 other cars in. Once I tuck in, there is probably room for 2 or 3 more.
The skies are still blue. The rotor blades on the mill poke up the other side of the large hedge I gaze beyond as I still sit in the ‘van.
In the distance, the fluffy white clouds were barely being pushed by the non-existent wind. The blades on the windmill had no chance today.
I walk alongside the 10-foot high hedge. The windmill is now totally obstructed from view. It makes its unveiling more dramatic. As I drove up, I was surprised at how small it looked. Now I am much closer, I am surprised at how big it is.
It is a grand structure. Standing tall over the smallish field it occupies. The vividness of the green grass and the blue skies frame the dark brown colour of the tower perfectly.
I gaze at it, looking for an angle to photograph it, and it is then I am startled. There is a horse in a field to my right. It flaps its lips, making me turn and jump. I assume he was just letting me know he was there.
A Wander around the Field
My heart returns to its normal beat, and my attention returns to the windmill. I amble over to an aged hut. Its purpose is unclear, but it fits in well with its surroundings
According to their website, wiltonwindmill.co.uk, this is the only working windmill in Wessex and it still produces wholemeal stone-ground flour.
Built in 1821, it was in operation for 100 years. However, as technology and modern methods grew, unfortunately, the mill became used less and less and fell into disrepair after being abandoned.
In 1976 though, the mill was restored it is now managed and operated by The Wilton Windmill Society.
It takes a matter of minutes to walk around the perimeter of the field, taking a range of photos and videos as I go.
As I walked on, only 15 minutes ago, I ambled past a sign that explained all about the windmill.
Wilton Windmill Inside and Out
A sign hammered to an information board shares information. The purpose is to educate. It is telling me all about the blades, or the ‘sails’ as I have now discovered they are called.
I find myself back at the entrance to the field. The horse that startled me 20 minutes ago now seems to have accepted me. Nose down, it tears and chomps at the green grass.
My time here is over, and I head back along that tall hedge. Wilton Windmill disappears from view. Before long, I am driving the country roads, for the remaining journey to my campsite for the night.