Walking under the clouds Pt. II

Another short day with heavy cloud, rain, drizzle and damp. It rained too heavily for a morning walk, so I held off until three o'clock, less than 45 minutes before sunset. Gloom envelopes the land, but trudge on I must.

What am I even doing coming up this way? A new sign has been put up. 'Unauthorised entry prohibited'. It's  cheaper to put up a sign than fencing off private land or putting up a gate. What legal consequences are there in Polish law for ignoring such signs? If it's your land, and you have title, just fence it off!

Left: this is (or rather was) the New Way, which it now turns out to be nothing more than an access road to a building site at the far end. My hopes for a new thoroughfare, parallel to the one shown on local maps as a public road (but with no-entry signs at either end) have been dashed. So, a new route needs to be found. So I walk through an abandoned orchard (shrivelled apples still on trees, no fence), following the border between Machcin and Adamów Rososki. Past the cottage in the photo above (is it abandoned? Hard to tell, certainly no one around) and then onto the farm track heading east towards Machcin (below).

Below: walking home along the road that has Adamów Rososki on the left and Grabina on the right. This is unusual in England, where roads don't demarcate borders between villages, but rather cut across them.

The incessant drizzle, the darkness and a houseful of hungry cats hastened my return home, so a mere 11,000 paces knocked out today. Again, I went to be shortly before 10pm last night and woke up before 6am this morning, and still feeling fine, mentally and physically!

This time six years ago:
Truth, lies and manipulation
Peter Pomerantsev's This Is Not Propaganda

This time seven years ago:
First frost, 2018

This time ten years ago:
Cameron, Paris, ISIS, PiS and Brexit

This time 12 years ago:

Work restarts on Jeziorki Ponds redevelopment

This time 13 years ago:
Foggy days and Warsaw's airports

This time 15 years ago:
Local elections – the lure of ultra-localism