8 June 1996

18 walkers started out from Mathon Lodge, the home of Paul and Karen Seymour, on Saturday 8 June for a circular walk of some 11-12 miles. From Mathon Lodge, the track went up the avenue directly on to the west side of the Malvern Hills. The majority of us went round North Hill on Lady de Walden Drive, whilst a few of the party went straight over the top. (Quite a normal course of events.)

From here, the route took us down to West Malvern past St James and the Abbey School, through Croft Farm, along past Bank Farm where the path dropped down Cockshot Hill past Netharley Hall into the back of Mathon Village, a distance of some 4 miles.

This led us into our lunch halt at the Cliffe Armes where orders were taken at the bar for everyone as they arrived. The Taylors’ order took ages coming but was much appreciated when it finally turned up! Karen took this break as an opportunity to return home by car to attend to the needs of the evening barbecue.

After lunch, our walk continued south along the flattish lands west of the Malverns. This part of the walk presented our accompanying four-footed friends with some problems as it was peppered with stiles. However, all but two of the canine party managed. Many thanks go out to several of the walkers but Chris Dell, in particular, who masterminded the lifts over these obstacles with apparent ease. We passed South End, Hoe Court which led us into the back of Colwall and across a main road. We then walked under the railway which brought us out on to the south end of the Malvern Hills. Another 4 mile leg which led us up towards the Malvern Hills Hotel at the base of the British Camp earthworks which some of the party decided to go up to explore. Others took tea or icecreams at the hotel. It was Paul’s turn to return home to assist, or possibly get in the way of, Karen.

After this brief halt, the walk returned to Mathon Lodge walking north along the ridge of hills over the Wyche Cutting and dropping down by the spout, a natural fresh water hole which many of us tasted, before entering the grounds of Mathon Lodge.

Those of us who wished to were able to take a refreshing swim, which made a welcome end to a very enjoyable walk, before an excellent barbecue on the patio, cooked by a very jovial master chef, Paul.

The weather was dry and we saw a fair bit of sunshine, the sun setting quite dramatically in the evening to the back of Mathon Lodge which rounded off an excellent day out.

Katie Taylor

Offa's Dyke Path Legs 10 & 11

28-29 September 1996

For all these things must come to pass but the end is not yet . . .

Matthew: 24:6

"Mart . . . ?", I half enquired one Sunday evening in late March. He was sipping a glass of rather tasteful Rioja in the kitchen at the time.

"Yes, my Sweet" came the enthusiastic reply.

"Do you remember anything about Offa's Dyke last September?"

"Not a lot."

"Well, you're doing better than I am, 'cos I don't remember a thing and I told Mad Mike that I'd give him a write-up. I've found the book (sic) and my notes are in there, all 10 lines of them. Do you know where we started walking from . . . ?"

Well, the fun began before we started walking. We, that is Steve and Kirsten Elliott, Alan and Jan Morris, David Purchase, Adrian Saunders, Peter Smithard, Richard Street, Martin and I, met on the evening of Friday 27 September in the guests' lounge of "Hill Crest", Mr and Mrs Lloyd's home in Llangollen.

We agreed to share some wine as an aperitif and asked for the wine list. The choice was an actuary's hell, ie, virtually no choice. There was red wine - the house red or A N Other, or white wine - the house white or A N Other. Our landlord seemed unable to tell the difference between wine and something out of the pathology lab. Mercifully, his wife cooked a mean supper so we were fortified for the Saturday's exertions.

We started walking at Oswestry racecourse. Altogether we had walked 127 miles of Offa's Dyke Path to date, and had another 49 miles to go to Prestatyn. Our route took us across the river Ceirig and through the grounds of Chirk Castle. Our much insufficiently maligned Leader permitted us to have a short break. . . .

. . . . during which Steve Elliott took the opportunity to step into a cow pat. Perhaps he sat in a cow pat. Whatever, he deserves a pat on the head.

After this diversion, we continued on our way. Soon, the keeners (ie, those near the Leader) relayed to the Leader that the team did . . .

" . . . beg. . . desire . . . demand . . ."

. . . a lunch break.

Clearly the actuaries had been utterly frustrated by the lack of choice regarding the wine during the previous evening and determined to make an issue of the exact location of the lunch spot. There was a pub, but it was Up A Hill; there were several pleasant spots by the canal, but these offered neither refreshments nor facilities; there was another choice, to eat by the canal-side and visit the pub afterwards, or, yet another choice, to go to the pub first and then return to the canal to have lunch. The permutations were endless and everyone seemed to think of a unique one and proceeded to act upon it. Adrian summed up the situation as being " . . . a split consensus".

The lunch break concluded in similar vein, with a random distribution of leaving times, however, rumour has it that we were all in the same county by the time some of us reached Thomas Telford's renowned aqueduct, the Pont Cysyllte Aqueduct.

The aqueduct, a cast iron trough supported by 18 stone pillars, was constructed between 1795 and 1805, and is a masterpiece of innovative engineering. It was designed to carry canal traffic over the river Dee, some 120' below, as part of the Shropshire Union canal system, which is supplied by water from the Horseshoe Falls at Llangollen, also designed by Telford. The aqueduct is 1,007' long and its trough is 5' 3" deep.

Beside the trough is a tow path and walkers use it regularly. We made our way to the picturesque basin at the far end and continued along the Panorama Walk, at the end of which we took a contour-hugging scree path which led to the waterfall at World's End. The car park was not far from there, up a hill, needless to say. We disintegrated amorphously into the cars and the lucky ones were driven back to "Hill Crest".

Sunday dawned to a percussion (accelerando) of seemingly interminable and uninterrupted stair rods of heavy rain (pesante) accompanied by gale force winds (sostenuto): another winner for Our Maestro.

We drove to the car park we had left the day before and continued the delights of the path in the delights of the weather. Railway sleepers had been laid along the route over the marsh/bog land we needed to cover, and these identified the path. The sleepers were slippery to the point of being lethal due to the rain. We could not get lost - that was the good news - but those of us with less body mass could, and were, blown into the bog.

Eventually we reached the comparative shelter of a forest through which we walked before passing a tiny hamlet called Hafod Bilston, where there was a sign advertising "Free range children". We continued until we arrived at Llandegla, where Martin tried to buy the "Sunday Times".

By this time, the weather was merely overcast and while other members of the group explored the local churchyard in search of interesting epitaphs (a fruitless search), Martin listened to the life history of the shopkeeper. This gentleman had been made redundant and was investing his redundancy money in a house in the village (and its adjacent bijou shack in the garden).

He was hoping to create a village store and, inter alia, to use his conservatory to cater for walkers of the Offa's Dyke path.

The sun hailed the advent of lunch and the afternoon. We continued until we arrived at the A494, near the Clwyd Gate Inn. A left turn and a short walk along the road took us to the lay-by where, in a previous existence, some cars had been left.

The forthcoming walk, scheduled for 19-21 September, will be the culmination of the BASWC Offa's Dyke project. We look forward to stunning views of a plethora of caravans, to clement weather, and to enjoying, at our leisure, the many and varied views which we know will be on Offa.

Many thanks to Delta for leading the walk and for enduring the persistent abuse (which he would hear if he were not too far in front to be out of ear shot . . . ).

Mariette Farrell

National Trail Guide - "Offa's Dyke Path North" - Arum Press

We set off before 10, crossing the bridge and turning towards Benson. It was a lovely morning, a clear sky and early autumn colours. At Benson, we crossed the river again and passed scores of Hoseason hire boats. They had sequences of names - the Symphony sequence stopped at Seven and it was suggested that number Eight was Unfinished.

Hereabouts, there was a rather grand construction on the opposite bank, with two wide stone staircases down to the water. Certainly it had belonged to a grand house, providing both boating and bathing. A notice was on the wall - ‘Watch your Wash’. Someone thought this must have been purloined from a laundrette.

Chris mentioned an important issue he felt should be aired in the correspondence columns of ‘To HILL AND BECK’. On second thoughts, he decided that life is too short. (Now what was that important issue? I’ve forgotten.)

At Shillingfords, various flood levels were marked on a modern plaque on a building near the river bank. The highest was dated 1809 and must have been at least seven feet above the river bank. The oldest was 1768; this level was also marked by an ancient inscription in the stone.

Having crossed the Thames, we crossed the Thames again at Day’s Lock. Shortly afterwards, Pepper decided to chase a bird which was about 50 feet up. A little later, we encouraged him to chase a large flock of Canada geese on the ground, but Adrian wouldn’t let him (or us) have a bit of fun.

As we approached Clifton Hampden, we observed two large carved heads on tall columns in the grounds of a house on the opposite bank. Unfortunately, the Thames Path book is silent on their story. Well ahead of schedule, we arrived at the ‘Barley Mow’, immortalised by Jerome K Jerome as ‘the quaintest, most old-world inn up the river’. The divinely tall Kirsten, every inch the heroine of a Victorian novel, refrained from drawing herself up to her full height, and accordingly did not bump her head against the ceiling. There was a collection of Victorian novels there and Martin read some extracts to us. They were hilarious, but yet I suppose such books did much for the spread of literacy.

I found the afternoon less enjoyable. One’s enthusiasm naturally wanes. I should not have had the delicious caramel and apple pudding, but above all the sky was grey with a hint of drizzle. Steve cheered us with a good joke:-

Scene, the Pearly Gate. The men had been told to join one of two queues, those who were dominated by their wives, and those who dominated their wives. Only one man joined the latter. ‘What are you doing there?’ ‘My wife told me to stand here.’

Thus encouraged, Steve then told us a bad joke.

At Sutton Courtenay, we were taken aback by a ‘Footpath Closed’ sign. Undaunted, Adrian sent Kirsten ahead and all was well. We were then immensely diverted by a ‘Diverted Footpath’ sign pointing towards the ‘closed’ section from which we had come.

We were back at Abingdon by about 4, still well ahead of schedule. This was just as well as the drizzle became quite heavy by about 4.30. We had had Didcot Power Station in sight for most of the day, but it can hardly be blamed for that and nor can Adrian, to whom we express our thanks for a successful day.

Richard Street

Limestone Link Leg 3 (West Harptree to Shipham)

2 November 1996

Lunch was to be at the New Inn in Blagdon. The path down led to some steps which had been constructed as part of the Willis Corroon Ltd Personal Development Course, 7 - 11 November 1993, so the plaque said. The steps led down into the back garden of someone's house, then through his garage to the street. A brief discussion with the owner led to us learning that he had been unsuccessful in trying to get the path diverted. At this point it started to rain again and so those of us at the back stopped to put on waterproofs. Unfortunately those at the front who knew the way had disappeared out of sight before we got going again. However after two laps round the churchyard we found the pub.

The publican had not been forewarned of our arrival and unfortunately, on this occasion, he was short staffed behind the bar. This meant a delay in obtaining beers and taking the lunch orders. This was not a problem for us but one middle-aged lady complained.

After lunch, Brendan left us and we returned to the ridge above Blagdon via the way we came down. The route then took us to Lower Ellick farm and then along a narrow path across Burrington Combe where the rain had made it rather sticky underfoot. Eventually we emerged onto Dolebury Warren. The weather brightened up here and we could see our destination across the valley. However little did we know that we were not to take a direct route.

Dropping down into the valley via the prehistoric fort, we doubled back into Rowberrow Bottom. By this stage it was beginning to get dark and we were getting tired. We followed the stream for an eternity, well at least half an hour, before turning sharp right and climbing out of the valley. As we emerged into the road at the top, we met a group about to descend, complete with torches. Why they were going down into the woods at that time we do not know.

The final stretch was down a narrow lane into Shipham. When we had all gathered David distributed certificates to those members who had completed all 3 legs of the Limestone Link. Then we made our weary way home. Despite the weather it had been an excellent day.

Peter Smithard

Annual Dinner

23 November 1996

This was held at Petty France Hotel and was a very enjoyable, if somewhat expensive, meal at a venue most of us had not been to before.

NORTH WEST of Bath

A First for the Record Books

This was a first for two reasons. Firstly, it was what is now becoming an annual event, a walk on the first day of the year. Secondly, it was the first one to be memorable for the lowness of the temperature. We have had the wettest, the muddiest, the weirdest assortment of weather, the hottest, but in the BASWC book of records this was definitely the coldest. This probably explained why several members who were supposed to be coming suddenly discovered they were ill/busy/unavoidably detained (delete as necessary) and it was therefore a small but hardy group that set off from 2 Dixon Gardens to discover the delights of Lansdown. I originally devised this walk for guests at the Royal Crescent Hotel and it was created for its variety of views. Unfortunately New Year's Day was not an occasion on which anyone was going to hang about admiring the scenery unless, of course, you actually wanted to experience frost-bite. For once hills were welcomed as a way of keeping warm although it would have been easier to have stayed at home by a roaring fire (well, all right, a hot radiator).

During the morning we hardly saw anyone, and at lunchtime we soon discovered where many people were - in the pub. Barbara Street had thoughtfully (and with the permission of the pub, I may say) bagged us some seats, and we then proceeded to entertain the other patrons of the Blathwayt Arms by performing a strange sort of strip tease. Half a dozen Michelin men managed to reduce themselves to half a dozen members of the walking club and a large pile of clothes in an amazingly short time before tucking into some welcome hot food.

Then it was back into the "fresh" air, only to discover that we were now on the draughty side of Lansdown, and the wind chill factor now became a matter of some interest. Oddly enough, there were now many more people around, and judging by the bleary-eyed appearance of several, they had decided that a brisk walk was just the thing to dispose of a New Year's Eve hangover. A sudden burst of sleet-cum-snow was somewhat depressing but the good news was that the cold meant a seriously muddy section of the walk was now seriously frozen instead. By and large this was an improvement - I think.

The walk concludes by picking up the Cotswold Way and conditions were rather different from the last time the BASWC had been that way. On this occasion, it was felt that ice-creams were not a necessary option, hot drinks back at our house proving much more desirable.

Despite the weather, everyone seemed to have enjoyed themselves, but after a very misty (and memorably smelly) outing on Jan 1st 1996, and a bitterly cold Jan 1st 1997, I think everyone left pondering what the weather gods might have in store for January 1998.

Kirsten Elliott

To Hill and Wick (and back)

25 January 1997

Richard explained that the route had two serious ups and no noticeable downs (odd since this was a circular walk returning to the Avon) and from here led us up the first to the top of Kelston Round Hill, a distinctive landmark from all around. While we enjoyed the view from the summit Barbara Street could have her telescope out at home to keep an eye on us. Though bright and sunny, mist below prevented us from seeing the full view across Bristol to both the Severn bridges.

Having touched the route of the previous walk on New Years Day on Kelston Round Hill, our route took us round the side of Lansdown and eventually through the villages of North Stoke and Upton Cheyney and the hamlet of Beach and so to Wick and the Rose and Crown where we were joined for lunch by Barbara Street, Ann Saunders and Jan and Stuart Morris (the latter straight from the exam room). The inn’s claim to fame seems to be as the birthplace of John Gulley - All England boxing champion in 1807, Member of Parliament, Millionaire, founder of Croxford’s (sic) and racehorse owner, as well as being the loving father of 24 children. With all those claims to fame strange not to have heard of him!

After lunch, we set off boldly down a drive between two substantial stone gateposts, the boldness disappearing with the appearance of a rotweiler. Not relishing an incident with Pepper, Adrian counselled caution and there was no dissension when we retreated and found an alternative path round the corner. Thence our way took us around and above the River Boyd - at times almost on the edge of Bristol, although we could have been in the deepest country. Richard’s local knowledge led to accusations of trespass - and no small degree of blindness- from the farmer as we crossed the mud and hurdles of Bitton Hill Farm ignoring the alternative route ‘the path’ round the side of the farm, though after the first stile no better marked. So we came down to Bitton, pausing only briefly to look at the singularly ugly canalisation of the river Boyd, and across to the cycle path and (so some of us thought) back to Saltford. Faced with the dense and silent traffic on the cycle path it was somewhat of a relief to come off the cycle track short - but heading away from Saltford? A circuit of a rather sticky field brought us back not twenty yards from the cycle track but above its cutting. From there it was but a short distance back to Saltford, and for those not in too much of a hurry, a very welcome cup of tea and excellent cakes at the Street’s house in the old village of Saltford. Our thanks to Richard and Barbara for an excellent day with an end to match.

Chris Dell

The Wardens’ and Windrush Ways

15 February 1997

Less obviously, we have more recently included much shorter Ways as part of our standard programme of events. The West Mendip Way has been visited three times (although in view of its length these were regarded as ‘unofficial’ Meets). In the summer of 1994 we did the Three Castles Walk in Gwent, and last year the Limestone Link in three stages from Cold Ashton to Shipham. This year I have included two more such walks of which this is the first.

The Wardens’ and Windrush Ways are two routes each of about 14 miles which both connect Bourton-on-the-Water with Winchcombe. They are rarely more than a mile apart and thus it is easy to use parts of both to create a circular walk and avoid the delays and hassle of car-shuffling which we so often have. The knowledge that there is an excellent pub, the Black Horse, in Naunton helped to determine a route. We would do the eastern end of both Ways this time, and perhaps return in a later year to complete them. At least, that was the original idea, but, for a number of reasons (including high parking fees!), we decided to start at Lower Slaughter rather than in Bourton itself. A consequence was that the mile or so of each Way nearest to Bourton would not be visited; I offered any purist the chance to complete that extra stretch but, not at all to my surprise, no-one took up this invitation!

Eleven members and two dogs gathered in Lower Slaughter at 10.15 on one of those days that shows winter at its best: fine, clear and sunny with very little wind, so that although the air temperature was low, it did not feel cold so long as you kept moving! We walked easily out of the village and through fields to Upper Slaughter; both these places are most attractive though they feel very different from each other. A short awkward stretch along a narrow but quite busy and fast road was immediately followed by a gentle rise to the top of the wolds and some splendid views. All too soon we descended again into Naunton; we reached the pub before noon which, as a lunch stop on a walk that I have led, must be a new record (do I hear ‘about 2½ hours earlier than usual’?). However this was far from accidental as I knew that the afternoon’s walk was much further than the morning’s had been – and I thought it would be as well to finish in daylight!

Unfortunately it was here that the party started to become depleted, Paul and Karen Seymour opting to return by a shorter route. Nine of us continued towards Guiting Power, following (rather to our surprise, as we were on the Wardens’ Way) the River Windrush. We turned south just before we reached the village through the Guiting Power Nature Reserve. I had been slightly apprehensive about the use of the faint path through the reserve, as it was clearly not a Right of Way; my doubts were increased when we heard the sound of much shooting as we approached. However it seemed that the perpetrators were more concerned about us than we of them, for they disappeared rather hastily!

Across the valley we climbed again on to the wolds at Westfield Farm. Now Mariette Farrell also felt that she needed to curtail the walk: this was well timed, as we were at the furthest point from home! After much debate, and rejection of the impractical options put forward by most members of the party, she and Martin decided to continue slowly, but only as far as Naunton where they would wait and hope to be rescued later. Such faith was touching, though fortunately not misplaced; but as the pub was shut they had to endure a rather cold hour there while the rest of us completed the planned route.

And so it was seven (Chris Dell, Steve and Kirsten Elliott, Peter Smithard, Richard Street, Mike Wignall and I) of the original eleven who made their way eastwards along the Windrush Way. We passed the medieval village of Aylworth; there were differing opinions as to the significance of the rather unimpressive earthworks we could see. At another medieval village, Lower Harford (the layout of which seemed easier to follow) we actually joined the Windrush which we could follow for 3 km or so to Aston Farm, before ending with a pleasant stretch across a low hill and down into Lower Slaughter. As we descended into the village it suddenly became several degrees colder! But I think all agreed that it had been a worthwhile day.

David Purchase 

MEET 87

Thames Path Leg 3

8 March 1997

On this leg of our Thames path trail a rather depleted contingent was inflated by the presence of a new member - Sally from the Institute library at Worcester St. As we were to discover, Sally is a real walker (compared with which the rest of us are Sunday afternoon strollers) and met us at Thrupp, having travelled there by bike. No motorised nonsense for Sally.

However, we did all then have to motor to Abingdon for the start. We are getting to know this car park quite well now.

The stretch of river from Abingdon towards Oxford is not very memorable. I know this because I can't remember anything about it, although I can hear some readers thinking that is no proof at all where I am concerned. However, following my earlier remark, chatting casually to Sally about walking quickly revealed the different universe in which she travelled. She frequently devotes long holidays to walking the pilgrim routes (one at a time of course!) to Santiago di Compostella. Just a mere 600 miles in 5 weeks. I hope she didn't have too much trouble keeping down with us.

What is memorable is Iffley. I never knew such a quiet and attractive part of Oxford existed. We crossed the river at the lock and soon afterwards arrived at the pub for lunch. The landlord was very sympathetic to dogs, which was a good thing because Pepper was nearly managing to pull the table apart (Adrian having believed, naively, that tying him to one of the legs would keep him under restraint).

Soon after lunch we came upon a famous aspect of river life in Oxford - the University bump races. Suddenly, the tow path was a seething mass of people (Jess trying hard to avoid being trodden underfoot) with many hundreds packing the clubhouses on the other side of the river. It was all a jolly good, rah rah sort of event. Adrian took to a bit of mimicry, which did not please some of the participants, but they thought better than to take any action.

Gradually, the noise of the crowds faded and Pepper could return to his frequent pursuit of birds; he has not yet realised that they are out of reach when airborne. On this day, this activity extended to encouraging the swans to take off from the river, which provided good practice at action shots with the camera.

Once through Oxford we were back to canals. Here, we came across a factory which advertised "heavy iron works". We wondered if you could have light iron works, but perhaps it is just a matter of degrees of heaviness.

At Kidlington, new houses have been built close by the tow path. However, the planners obviously thought the canal would be too attractive an outlook, so there is a high fence cutting off the view.

As Adrian remarked (and he has got into this article far, far more than usual!) this provided a number of advantages. First, there is a footpath to facilitate access for burglars. Secondly, children can play by the canal without their parents seeing them, and thus fall in and drown with impunity.

The canal had its usual variety of boats. Just as we reached Thrupp one narrow boat moored there was called, rather groaningly, "The Thrupp'ny Peace."

And so we came upon our initial meeting place, most of us to drive off, and Sally to get on her bike. Unfortunately, it was realised at this point that she had left her cycling shoes in Adrian's car, which was, quite naturally, parked at Abingdon. Elaborate plans were considered involving the depositing of said shoes at Staple Inn, which would probably be a first time this had happened within those hallowed walls, but perhaps Sally is still without them.

Steve Elliott

The East Mendip Way

In my description of Meet 86 I mentioned that on two occasions in 1997 we visited a short Long Distance Path (if this is not too Irish a concept). Today’s walk was the second one. The East Mendip Way is an 18-mile route that connects Frome to Wells (from where, of course, the West Mendip Way goes on to the sea at Uphill, near Weston-super-Mare). It is perhaps not quite as fine as that West Mendip Way, but it is 10 miles shorter and with much less ‘up’! Thus I felt that it was a practical option for a day’s Meet.

However I was also aware that some members might be nervous about committing themselves to a walk of this length, and thought it important to arrange some sort of ‘escape route’. There were various plans, but in the end Kirsten (who was unable to walk with us this time) agreed to meet the party at a couple of places en route. In the event this kind assistance proved unnecessary, and all of the admittedly small group (Chris Dell, Steve Elliott, Peter Smithard and me) completed the whole Way without, so far as I could tell, much difficulty. No doubt the weather helped, for it was sunny yet fairly cool; ideal for walking, in fact. But if the possibility of cutting the walk short had not been there, no doubt someone would have needed it – such is life.

We started in the centre of Frome with something of a climb, initially past interesting old buildings but then in modern residential estates. A large factory marked the end of the town and we wandered in pleasant countryside down to the Mells River and along Fordbury Bottom to Murder Combe. The origin of this last name is still a mystery to us all. Shortly after this we passed along the edge of Whatley Quarry, an enormous site which its owners wish to expand still further. Although far from attractive, the route of the East Mendip Way is here mostly in woodland and hence apart from a couple of spots our outlook was not spoilt, and we were not much disturbed by quarrying. It had been different on an earlier visit on a weekday!

Asham Wood was one of a number of spots where care was needed with the navigation; this whole route is not as well waymarked as the West Mendip Way. However we did not go wrong, and were soon climbing our longest hill, heading for Cranmore Tower. This is in a mature wood, and is none too conspicuous from below. When we arrived I asked the resident occupiers whether the tower was ever open to visitors. They responded ‘no’, but added that we were quite welcome to climb it! The view from the top was extensive and, for the most part, splendid, though it did also bring home to us just how much of the Mendips are disfigured by quarrying.

We learnt that the tower had been built at the same time as King Alfred’s Tower, about 100 years ago, as entries in a competition to build ‘the tallest tower’. Neither won, as the crown was taken by one near Amersham. This surprised me somewhat (as I used to live near there, and could recall no such edifice); but it transpired that that tower had been built of wood and had long since disappeared!

After this exertion, and our lunch stop, I made a small diversion from the ‘official’ route to avoid a farm that I knew was most ‘walker-unfriendly’, and we made our way to Chelynch. Here there was an excellent pub, the Poacher’s Pocket, which was just the opposite! The consequence was that, while hitherto we had been well ahead of my planned schedule, now we fell behind it. But I am sure that nobody minded. That is, nobody except Kirsten, who had to wait at the second intermediate rendezvous for longer than she expected!

The route then drops down from Ingsdons Hill to Shepton Mallet which is skirted at its northern edge; then of course we had to climb again! There followed a stretch after Rosamond Green Farm, through Ham Woods, which was also difficult to follow. As leader I was quite pleased to emerge from these woods at the right point! The others were perhaps more pleased because there was then no more climbing! An agricultural stretch was followed by a brief glimpse into Dinder Wood, a very deep (and steep) unspoilt wooded ravine which would be interesting to explore (though not very practicable as there are no rights of way). We contented ourselves with peering into it from above. A flat mile ended overlooking Wells, and we could conclude with a gentle descent through some woods and a golf course before walking round the Bishop’s Palace to finish, after 8½ hours, outside that glorious West Front of Wells Cathedral. The ending alone surely makes either of the Mendip Ways well worth while.

David Purchase 

Meet 89: Moffat

MEET 89

Moffat Weekend

The BASWC departed from tradition this year and voted to go to Moffat in Dumfriesshire instead of Skelwith Bridge in the Lake District for the May Bank Holiday weekend.

Some had already been to Moffat, if only on the way to Edinburgh and the Highlands. However, few had actually stayed and walked in the area and we were not aware of the lovely countryside away from the main roads. Moffat is an elegant country town and popular with a limited number of tourists, whose average age was over 70. I think we reduced that somewhat!

The hotel where we stayed was introduced to us by David as he is well-known to the family proprietors. It can be highly recommended to anyone wanting to visit the area or stay overnight on the way up north. It is a very comfortable place with pleasant views. It has large rooms and offers lovely food. (By the way, I am not getting any commission out of this.)

We also departed from tradition this weekend by not ‘volunteering’ a scribe to write up each day’s proceedings but I invited everyone to write down contributions or aides-memoires on the final evening which I could put into some sort of order afterwards. It remains to be seen how successful this is.

Friday

Most of us arranged to meet at the hotel for a buffet lunch before warming up at the Grey Mare’s Tail waterfall. The rest of the party joined us in the evening. This was a very nice walk past a spectacular waterfall. One could see why it was an accident black spot as the ground fell away from the footpath very sharply.

My inadvertent descent towards the stream when I slipped on some wet rock caused great hilarity with Kirsten and Anthony. I thought this sounded rather mean until I was told that it was right on cue following a comment by Anthony suggesting it would be rather funny if I did just that.

Once above the waterfall, we reached open country and could see Loch Skeen, the only loch in the area, surrounded by a horseshoe-shaped ridge. We only had time to walk up one side up to ‘Mid Craig’ but this was probably enough for the first day. There were higher peaks but they will have to wait for another time.

The descent by the same route brought us past some cute baby goats which a guide book described as feral goats native to the area. When we returned to the hotel, we found that everyone else had arrived with the exception of Nick Taylor who had found a more complicated way of travel. I believe this involved a helicopter and a plane, but I am not sure which he flew and which flew him. Janet and Robin Gillespie drove to Glasgow airport to pick him up and forwent their dinner, but their supper made up for that.

Saturday

On Saturday, we all got ready for a long 12 mile walk which had as its main summit Hart Fell. This was a ‘Donald’, a ‘Corbett’ and a ‘Marilyn’. Its name was deemed to be a corruption of the phrase ‘Heart Fail’. David, the master of understatement, described the walk as ‘undulating’; did this give rise to walkers’ unreasonable expectations? The weather was very hazy, fine and warm.

The walk started inevitably upwards and gave us a very good view of the Devil’s Beeftub. Here, cattle rustled from the English was hidden. It is also reported that a Jacobite soldier once escaped his captors here by rolling suddenly over the edge. An article about this area says that, without the flea-ridden, typhus-infested lockup in Carlisle before us, we probably lack the motivation for such a convenient descent. However, this did not stop us inadvertently using this method at the end of the day. The method was variously called a ‘controlled fall’ or an ‘abseil without rope’.

Brendan and Stella started with us but wisely walked at their own pace and so, apart from seeing them across the Beeftub, we did not see them for the rest of the day.

After lunch and a ‘snored siesta’ (guess who perpetrated this pun) on Hart Fell, we were given the choice of completing the full walk or making an earlier descent to Loch Fruid where a lift would be provided. 3 walkers took up the latter alternative and, by all accounts, had a very pleasant and relaxing time! Janet and Robin stopped to bathe their feet in a freezing pool. Their descent was further delayed by having to divert round a sheep maternity unit which was a very big field with new-born lambs.

A further splinter group opted out of the last minor summits to make a more gradual descent (they hoped!) to the cars.

The journey back to pick up the cars at the start did seem to go on for ever; did we only walk 12 miles? Even Pepper was tired by the end, but then he probably walked, or rather ran, 3 times as much as us. We thought he ought to be called Tigger because he bounces a lot.

Sunday

Unfortunately, Sunday was rather wet and windy. The walk David had chosen was to complete the ascent of another ‘Donald’ (Hunt Fell) which he had not done before. This was not his first choice, but, because of the weather, he thought that the original ridge walk would not be too pleasant. The Saunders decided to drive around the area. On their return, Pepper took the opportunity to chase cats up trees. He was obviously revived.

We drove further than we had on the day before and parked near Crook Inn. The start of the walk took us over a ‘rickety rackety bridge’ which Bobby and I decided to repair when we returned. After walking through a farm and encountering a bionic sheep which literally took off and jumped an imaginary fence to avoid us, we came across a stream which we had to cross by a risky paddle or a tightrope walk across a pole. The former option was not open to us at the end of the day as the stream had risen too much after the rain.

The walk after this was a rather gentle one as there were no steep ascents. The first part was along a valley by the afore-mentioned stream and only later did we climb significantly. We found an ‘electrified’ fence which we followed in the opposite direction and this took us over Hunt Fell and another summit. We did have rather mixed weather on the walk; the rain was horizontal at times and turned into hail occasionally. Why does it get wetter as you get higher, underfoot and overhead, so much so that we had virtually to swim off the top? The John Paul Jones Museum was apparently a bit drier inside! When we reached the top, the clouds had lifted and the views were much better than expected, better even than the previous day as there was no haze. There were intermittent views of a mast and a flying saucer on another summit, whose name I cannot remember. In the Glasgow direction, one could see the plains for quite a distance and, towards Edinburgh, the Pentland Hills were quite visible.

Along the way, as we had our heads down quite a bit, we saw some unusual (to us) scarlet flowers. They were very small and were apparently insect-eating. We thought this was a good thing to encourage in Scotland. (Postscript: Having done some research back home, Kirsten reliably informs me that this was not flower but a lychen - cladonia coccifera. She has also identified bilberry plants as well.)

Rather than have lunch out in the open we decided to head for the woods and find shelter from the wind and rain. When we reached the woods, it was more like a bonsai forest, but we did find taller trees lower down. We startled some stags in a clearing; maybe they were the same as the ones we saw at the beginning of the day. After lunch, Steve disappeared trying to find a tree. He claimed he couldn’t see a tree for the woods.

Our efforts were well-rewarded in the evening by another gorgeous meal. Some even had seconds of chocolate pudding, dare I mention who? No!

The following morning was time to depart, apart from David and Anthony who were staying for another day. The end of another successful weekend. I wonder what we will do next year?

Mike Elcock (with thanks to everyone for their comments!)

Sidmouth

Steve goes to Sidmouth

or

"This could be the Last Time"

 Sidmouth has connotations of misfortune for me. On my first visit I was charged with a parking offence (brilliantly repudiated!). The next time, I felt very much under the weather. Was it going to be third time lucky for this walk organised by Alan Morris?

Well, we joined the M5 one junction further north than intended, so pushed on a bit to pick up time. Around junction 26 I was thinking that I didn't need to be doing 90 in the outside lane any more. However, just at that moment a uniformed gentleman in a police car on the bridge ahead was aiming his radar gun, and it was all over, barring the pulling over onto the hard shoulder. Having thus lost 15 minutes of the 10 minutes saved by driving too fast, we were late. We discovered, of course, that we were actually ahead of most of the party at the time we were stopped, some of whom had idly wondered what car it was stopped on the hard shoulder by a police car!

Anyway, enough of that and on to the walk. This was a sort of circular walk, in a purely topographical sense, but mixing my topography and geometry I could say that the coastline formed a tangent to that circle at Sidmouth. I hope that is entirely clear! Of course, there was some up and down as well, but I can only cope with two dimensions at a time when writing.

[Struck by this momentous thought, Steve gave up writing all together until (so he said) he had further information. Unfortunately before that time, your Editor said "I need the article" and so "I" stops being Steve and becomes Kirsten because I, Kirsten, had to finish it off in a hurry.]

We started off along the South West Coastal Path, which over the years is heading further inland - at least it would be further inland if the sea didn't keep gobbling up the bits it no longer uses. And sometimes it eats up bits the path is using, so we were quite relieved to turn away from the coast, through Salcombe Regis, to discover the donkey sanctuary. We were all so delighted with this that we very nearly (but not quite) got lost. You would be amazed the shapes, sizes, and colours in which donkeys come. What is sad is that they have all been rescued from ill-treatment or neglect. However, once recovered, they get quite full of themselves, and one escorted Pepper off its territory in a quite determined manner.

At risk of sounding all-poetic like, this was proving to be a delightful morning, as we trekked through most attractive scenery, with many wild flowers giving touches of colour to the lush green Devon countryside.

However, rain had threatened off and on all morning, and at about "lunchtime" (or what is normally regarded as lunchtime though not by the BASWC) it was definitely dampish. By this time, the party had split into two, the "up and over" group and the "gently gently" group, the cause of this schism being a steepish, but not compulsory, climb, at the end of which, we were promised, was a pub. For reasons of pride and a desire not to be too wet, this turned into something of a race, which, it has to be admitted, the "gently gently" group won. But we think they ran.

After a much-needed drink we pressed onwards to the lunch spot. Onwards and upwards to be precise. And downwards and up again. And along a bit. Still no lunch, but Alan promised us a spectacular view when we arrived at the chosen spot. And doubtless there would have been, had not the earlier rain transmuted itself into a thick mist. Instead we had to look at the map, and imagine what we ought to be seeing.

By this time the walk was almost over, and it only remained to make our way back into Sidmouth and find the cars. Except that Steve and I knew that there was a cafe in the public gardens created around the old look-out post and we managed to divert the rest of the party to said watering spot. Thus it was (and here I use Steve's notes) that within a fortified cafe we were also fortified - by cups of tea. Afterwards a gentle stroll along the promenade to the cars made a very pleasant end to the walk, as by this time "the sun was shining on the sea, shining with all its might". So you can imagine how astonished Steve and I were as we drove back over Mendip to find ourselves negotiating flood water. When we arrived home we discovered that in Bath a couple of inches of rain had fallen in just half an hour, creating havoc in the city. So perhaps Sidmouth was a good place to be, after all.

 Steve & Kirsten Elliott