We begin with the muddy bit—best tackled while boots are fresh and spirits unflagging. Down to the canal, over the bridge, and up through Millennium Wood, where the trees stand as a reminder of the year 2000’s great optimism (and the brief terror that our computers might all stop working). Once across the busy Kibworth Road, we head along Mill Lane, passing the King’s Head. Alas, the inn will be firmly shut at this hour, so no chance of a sneaky half before the real work begins.
Turning right onto Main Street, we follow the road to the junction of Saddington Road and Gumley Road. A left fork, then another left at Pit Hill, keeps us on Gumley Road. This stretch has seen centuries of feet, hooves, and cart wheels—though today it’s more likely trainers, tyres, and the occasional dog walker. Continue until Dabdale Lane appears, where we bear right. The lane itself is indecisive, bending left toward Gumley and right toward Laughton and Mowsley. We take the right turn, briefly, until a cattle grid bars the way.
Straight ahead lies Laughton, a charming destination in its own right, but not for us today. Instead, we turn immediately right onto the two‑mile “Gated Road” to Saddington. This is where those of us with knees past their warranty may grumble, for the lane drops steeply. Still, the views are worth every creak and groan—rolling countryside that has seen Romans march, Normans settle, and ramblers puff ever since.
Passing Saddington Reservoir, keen eyes will notice that the water levels have finally risen. The ducks, grebes, and dragonflies are delighted, and so should we be—this reservoir was dug in the 19th century to feed the Grand Union Canal, and it still plays host to wildlife and the occasional fisherman with more patience than luck.
From here it’s up a modest hillock, then gently down to Mowsley Road. A right turn, a short descent, and then the climb into Saddington itself. The Queen’s Head awaits, with new landlord Dan ready to greet us. Tradition dictates we pause here, if only to wish him every success in his stewardship of this fine establishment. A pint, a lemonade, or simply a nod of encouragement—choose your weapon.
Suitably refreshed, we tackle the last mile back to Fleckney. Three peaks mark this walk, the highest being the rise up to Gumley. No stiles to wrestle with, though the roads can be busy, so a high‑viz jacket or waistcoat is strongly advised. Think of it as medieval heraldry updated for the 21st century: instead of a coat of arms, you’ll be sporting fluorescent stripes.
