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National Trust Road Trip - Summer 2017

22/10/2017

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Epic post ahoy! (But it's mostly photos - and tweets with photos - so don't be alarmed.) Over summer, we went on a road trip, visited a bunch of National Trust properties, camped a lot, saw several lovely friends and subsisted almost entirely on scones, pizza and instant noodles. It was a pretty great holiday, even if we got the best version of British Summer (i.e. rain) most days.
Tidal mudflats with a line of poles
From Lindisfarne/the Holy Island, looking back towards the mainland over the tidal mudflats.
We recently bought ourselves life memberships of the National Trust (thanks to M&A for the gift). The National Trust owns a whole range of places, from castles and stately homes to countryside and coast, interesting historic houses, follies and factories. Most of these places are open to the public, the larger ones have cafés or restaurants, members get free entry and (usually) free parking. We decided that visiting a National Trust place every day would be a good way of exploring the country during our summer hols. Spoilers: we were right. Herewith, a bit about our trip (places marked with an * are not National Trust).

The South

I always find it funny that English road signs will sometimes point to "The NORTH" or "The WEST" or "The SOUTH" (I don't think I've seen one to "The EAST" before - do they exist?). I don't know what the technical definition of those areas are, but I'm going to divide this post according to them anyway. Essentially, we started in Sussex and did a clockwise loop around England, albeit skipping some major parts and adding a short visit to Wales (and an even shorter, minutes-long trip to Scotland). We didn't visit many NT places close to home, because we'll go to them on weekends and short breaks . . .
Day 1: Barcombe Mills*, Ditchling Beacon, Devil's Dyke, Saddlescombe Farm
Our travels started off with a visit to Barcombe Mills for a walk. Then we headed along the line of the South Downs (Ditchling Beacon and Devil's Dyke) with sunshine and wind and forecasts of storms. Unfortunately, we couldn't stay where we planned on the first night due to a family illness, so we stopped off at a camping field - literally, we couldn't even find the loo! - at Saddlescombe Farm.

Barcombe Mills, nr Lewes. Would be a nice spot for a dip or a paddle. We had a lovely walk. #RoadTrip pic.twitter.com/TUIh6IW5qF

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) July 27, 2017

Across to West Sussex which, if anything, is windier! Almost blown away off Devil's Dyke. #NTRoadTrip @nationaltrust pic.twitter.com/ynnzeoN2d7

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) July 27, 2017
person in tent
Me in our tent in the National Trust camping field at Saddlescombe Farm. The adventure begins.
Day 2: Worthing Beach*, Mottisfont
The rain didn't let up, so we packed up the tent in the wet (not fun, as it was the first time we'd used this tent since last summer, so we were out of practice) and trundled off over the South Downs to Worthing Beach for breakfast (or morning tea, maybe). I picked a bit of sea kale while we were there, to add to our instant noodles later on. Our National Trust property of the day was Mottisfont, where we arrived just in time for the mediaeval history walking tour. Then it was off to our peaceful, if rather poorly signposted, campsite for the evening.

We went for a guided walk around @nationaltrust Mottisfont. Saw the font and learnt all about the mediaeval history. #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/fU2wpfw4kd

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) July 29, 2017

Foraged leaves make a fancy addition to instant noodles! Plus a bottle of wine to celebrate making it to Hampshire. #RoadTrip pic.twitter.com/Rbmu6WaLl7

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) July 29, 2017
big stone building
At Mottisfont - first a meeting place, then a priory and later a stately home.
​Day 3: Pepperbox Hill, Myncen Farm*, Hardy's Cottage, Max Gate, Loughwood Baptist Meeting House
We woke to a glorious sunrise and popped out of the tent to pick blackberries for breakfast (probably the best breakfast of our holiday, TBH, see ingredients in the tweet below). We set off across the counties of the south coast, stopping at Pepperbox Hill, following a sign to cider and arriving at Hardy's Cottage near Dorchester just as the rain set in. I've never been a huge Thomas Hardy fan, probably because I read Tess of the D'Urbervilles when I was too young to realise it was a condemnation of societal values and couldn't understand why someone would write something so horrible, let alone why people would choose to read it. However, both the cottage and Max Gate down the road were really interesting spots to find out more about domestic and social life of the period. Did you know people used tea leaves (after brewing them) to polish/stain their wooden floors? We called in at Loughwood Baptist Meeting House before heading to Exmouth.

GOOD MORNING!!! The best breakfast ever? (Blackberries, crumbled chic chip biscuit, muesli, yoghurt, clotted cream, jam!) #RoadTrip pic.twitter.com/xi3h7khcZA

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) July 29, 2017

Green paths, colourful gardens, thatched cottage and a Roman road at @NTHardysCottage @nationaltrust. #NTRoadtrip pic.twitter.com/qIxNJZuPHb

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) July 29, 2017
Red wooden gate and rolling green landscape
I loved the charming little red gate to Loughborough Baptist Meeting House.

The South West

We felt like we'd moved properly into different terrain. We drove through the long, lingering Downs-ish hills merging into Salisbury Plain, then suddenly we were in the steep green country of the South West, Somerset and Devon. We were in the area last year, and it felt good to return.
Day 4: Lower Halsdon Farm, Exmouth*, A la Ronde, Exeter*
​We had a morning to ourselves, so we took advantage of the lovely weather and walked into Exmouth. Our Airbnb hosts told us about a new path that had been put in through a National Trust-owned farm, so we followed it down to the path that snakes around the estuary, enjoying views across the water and mussel beds. We stopped for a cream tea on the way back, which we ended up sharing with a little orange cat. The main event of the day was a visit to A la Ronde with our friend Rachael. Read about the history of the house here. We went to Exeter for a dinner of delicious vegan and vegetarian pizzas at The Flat.

Cream tea at Lower Halsdon Farm. Not sure if these were official @nationaltrust scones, @nt_scones, but I think the friend makes up for it! pic.twitter.com/ggM6M6eW9p

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) July 30, 2017

I mean, there were plenty of interesting things to learn about at A La Ronde, but who can resist dress ups? #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/iAbbEIf10M

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) July 30, 2017
looking out an interesting window
The windows at A la Ronde were very interesting - diamond shaped outside, but a whitewashed oval inside to draw the light through.
​Day 5: Knightshayes, South Hill
​Goodbye, Exmouth! We took back roads slowly up to the north coast of Devon/Somerset, enjoying the views of hills and streams and stopping off at Knightshayes for a couple of hours in the middle of the day. The estate itself looked beautiful, but we spent most of our time inside the ridiculous Gothic-revival house, enjoying the first of many examples of ostentatious interior design. We learnt about linen presses (thanks, chatty volunteer), women's golf and a bit about the local lace-making industry (where the family made their fortune). Then we set off again, up to the remote-feeling hilltop expanses and steep, secluded valleys of Exmoor.

Pleased to finally share pics inside our new house! Who's coming to visit? (Joking, this is @knightshayesNT @nationaltrust #NTRoadTrip) pic.twitter.com/Z2Ve9oJfag

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) July 31, 2017

I think we've found the best campsite... #Exmoor #RoadTrip pic.twitter.com/1Yf34hwPQG

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 1, 2017
view of houses, seaside and cliffs
The view from the Airbnb on the hill in Exmouth was absolutely gorgeous!
Day 6: Watersmeet, County Gate*
​Our pretty campsite was tucked away in a wooded river valley sheltered between the high moors outside Porlock. I tried out my new water shoes with a paddle down the river. It was beautiful, and hard to leave for the day! But leave we did, for a wander along the streams and waterfalls to Watersmeet. Their card machine wasn't working, we didn't have cash and the car was parked a mile or so upstream, so after a quick look around we headed off. We went for a lovely little walk at County Gate, through the bright purple heather and yellow gorse (which they call furze, there).

Dragged ourselves away from said campsite to visit @nationaltrust Watersmeet. Worth it - gorgeous! #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/L3EqSdqTXm

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 1, 2017

(Although no @nt_scones for us today, alas.) pic.twitter.com/s1YDcvMwcv

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 1, 2017
person on path through purple and yellow and green vegetation
Dan admiring the colourful wildflowers on Exmoor near County Gate. Check out the steep hillsides!
Day 7: Glastonbury Tor, Costa at Shepton Mallet*, Kennet and Avon Canal at Bradford-on-Avon*
​It rained! Are you surprised? Dunster Castle wasn't yet open, so we headed to Glastonbury Tor, somewhere I've wanted to visit for ages. We nabbed ourselves some free street parking and joined the train of folks heading to the summit. Oh my goodness. It rained sideways with such ferocity that one side of us was dripping while the other was quite dry. We could see barely a thing from the top. Then we had to come down, drenching our other sides. We were so wet. We bundled into the car, sitting on towels, and sought refuge in a retail park twenty minutes up the road where we tried to dry things under the hand dryer. Luckily, our Airbnb hosts were beyond lovely and helped us dry out. We even had bath robes! In the evening we went to visit our friend Dru, an artist, poet and engineer who lives on a narrow boat on the Kennet and Avon Canal.

Cool blue-staining bolete. Found it on the road! #fungi pic.twitter.com/azTwm2ULfP

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 2, 2017

Climbed Glastonbury Tor. It rained sideways and I don't know we've ever been so soaked. Certainly memorable! @nationaltrust #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/DFnDTXAlQV

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 2, 2017
person on bath stone bridge structure
Dan on the Avoncliff Aqueduct, which carries the Kennett and Avon Canal over the River Avon.
Day 8: Dyrham Park, Bristol*
​As we pulled in to the drive at Dyrham Park, I said to Dan, "Don't you feel like we're rich folk on a grand tour, visiting our friends in all their grand houses?" Dyrham is one of those classic National Trust properties - a big house, fancy garden, a cafe and bookshop in the stables and a deer park with spectacular views . We went on the volunteer-lead garden tour and it was fascinating to learn its history and the plans for further restoration. After Dyrham, we headed to Bristol, where we stayed with Allysse & co. Allysse and Emma took us out for some tasty pizzas. Mmm, yum.

A great day out at @NTDyrhamPark today. Interesting to hear about conservation work and go on the garden tour. @NationalTrust #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/nSc0XiRbOJ

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 3, 2017

Music on a viola da gamba, stories on plates, volunteer describing locks and, uh, slave statues (not a fave!). #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/x8fjwb0nW1

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 3, 2017
evening scene with boat and lights reflecting on water
We thought this was the Matthew (replica of the boat sailed across the Atlantic in 1497) but it's the tall ship Kaskelot (restored original).
Day 9: Cheddar Gorge, Wells*
After a relaxing morning, Allysse, Emma, Dan and I drove down to Cheddar Gorge, where we climbed a lookout, had lunch in the (very touristy) village and then walked around the top of the gorge. It's an amazing place! I guess I thought, in the back of my mind, that you don't get "big landscapes" in England - especially in the south. I loved everything about the walk and the company. Allysse and I recorded an intro for Queer Out Here. We saw wild goats . . . and Glastonbury Tor, in the distance, in the sunshine. After a few false starts (including an abandoned pub!), we ended up in Wells for dinner. 

Yesterday we went to Cheddar Gorge. What a fantastic place! (One might even say ... Gorge-eous.) @nationaltrust #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/ijgX1ik07i

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 5, 2017

And a few more pix! There was even a bit of sunshine, amazingly. #RoadTrip pic.twitter.com/6Lvuj4wdsp

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 5, 2017
View of cliff-bound valley with road at bottom
Wow! I didn't expect Cheddar Gorge to be so big or so 'wild' feeling - they've managed to keep all the tourist tat in the village at the end.

Wales

We love Wales (had you noticed?), so we couldn't really go from Bristol to Birmingham without popping in to a couple of our favourite places. It was fun to notice that our DuoLingo and Say Something in Welsh practice has paid off a bit - we could understand a few more signs this time. Gwych!
Day 10: Tredegar House
Allysse had to work, but Emma came with us to Tredegar House on the outskirts of Newport. We had a short wander around the ponds, then popped into the house. Once again, the room volunteers provided entertaining commentary on the history of the house and its owners. Fave quote about a fellow with a pet kangaroo: "As you can see from this photograph, he was gay." We went to a talk about the history of the property from Tudor times to its life as a school and council-run venue. It was warm, I was comfortable, I fell asleep. Sorry, volunteer presenter! We ate scones, dropped Emma at the station then headed on up to an Airbnb in Caerphilly.
two people in big gateway
Dan and Emma doing their best horsey toff faces.

Yesterday at @NTTredegarHouse - we're in Wales now, where @nationaltrust keeps these places open i bawb, am byth. #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/N4MulWjxxW

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 6, 2017
​Day 11: Lanlay, Caerphilly Mountain*
National Trust places seemed a bit thin on the ground in the immediate vicinity, but we found one: a field. OK, that makes it sound dull, when in reality Lanlay is a series of beautiful riverside meadows that have not been farmed since before WWII. This means the place retains traditional hedges and a huge diversity of wild herbs, grasses and so on - the kind of diversity I'd heard about, but it was another thing to see and truly understand what we've lost elsewhere and what people are working to bring back where possible. There was a sign encouraging people to pull up Himalayan Balsam, so rather than walking we went on a long weeding expedition. We had lunch with lovely friends (and it was a lovely lunch, although I think the soup broke two soup makers?!). After lunch we drove to the top of Caerphilly Mountain for a wander around the common/heath. All in all, an enjoyable day!

Huge diversity of grasses, herbs and flowers in the meadows at @nationaltrust/@NTWales Lanlay this morning. #NTRoadTrip #WildFlowers pic.twitter.com/ANLymL614O

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 6, 2017
person on path in field
On the path through Lanlay meadows . . .
Day 12: The Sugar Loaf, Abergavenny*, Pen-Ffordd-Goch*, LLanthony Priory*
​Up through the valleys from Caerphilly we went, heading towards a wonderful part of the world - the area around the Black Mountains/Brecon Beacons/Usk Valley/Wye Valley/Vale of Ewyas. First stop: a climb to the top of Sugar Loaf/YFâl. This was great. The climb gradually steepening to the rocky crest. We spent a while enjoying the excellent views and watching the rain jumping peaks towards us - Corn Du, Pen y Fan and Cribyn in the distance, then the nearer hilltops, then the Usk Valley, then . . . it missed us! We popped down to Abergavenny for lunch and over to Pen-Ffordd-Goch/Keepers Pond to find the road we'd seen from Sugar Loaf/Y Fâl. Finally, we drove to the sweet little campsite below the picturesque remains of Llanthony Priory/Priordy Llanddewi Nant Hodni. It felt like it had been ages since we'd camped - days since Exmoor - and it was good to be back in the tent.

Don't know about you, but our morning tea spot is OK. #NTRoadTrip #CymruAmByth pic.twitter.com/xNNtRvfOQ2

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 7, 2017

Last night's accommodation has seen better days. Picturesque, though. #LlanthonyPriory #CampingLife #RoadTrip pic.twitter.com/6LdcD4auc1

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 8, 2017
Rocky hilltop view
On top of the Sugar Loaf/Y Fâl. I think that's Ysgyryd Fawr/The Skirrid in the background - another great spot!

The Middle Bits

A.K.A. Birmingham, Warrington and Manchester. (I originally called this section "The Midlands" and Derry told me off. Landscape-wise, it felt like we entered The NORTH only once we'd passed Manchester. And let's be real, Manchester's only about two thirds of the way from the south coast to Scotland!) This section of our trip was based more around seeing friends than any particular National Trust properties - but that's not to say we didn't visit some great places.
Day 13: Gospel Pass (Wales)*, The Weir Garden, Birmingham*
Leaving our campsite after a paddle in the nearby river (cripes, it was freezing!), we headed out over the Gospel Pass - one of my favourite viewing points in the world, I think! We then followed the Wye Valley around to The Weir Garden, set on a steep hillside overlooking the Wye. We'd stopped opposite it while canoeing down the Wye last summer and had filed it away as a place to come back to. Worth it! Then it was on to Birmingham, which we managed to do via quite a green route almost all the way into the city. We went to a pub quiz with our friend Rachael (who put us up for the night, too) where we came equal third - only 1.5 points below the winners. (I contributed only one, incorrect, answer - essentially, I think I lost the quiz for the team. Whoops!)

Fave place with fave chap. (Near Lord Hereford's Knob with Lord Hereford, obvs.) #RoadTrip pic.twitter.com/Xlg94HsYcd

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 8, 2017

Today's @nationaltrust stop - The Weir Garden on the River Wye. Canoed past here last year and have kept it in mind since! #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/TkvA8MCRDR

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 8, 2017
Table with cakes and tea making equipment
The tea table at The Weir Garden. Make your own cuppa, grab a cake and head down to the riverside to loaf in the deck chairs!
​Day 14: Kinver Rock Houses, Alderly Edge, Warrington*
(A.K.A. the day I had chips for breakfast - classy!) We drove with Rachael to check out the Holy Austin Rock Houses at Kinver. These houses are part cave, carved into the red sandstone of Kinver Edge. People were living here up until the 1960s and the houses are refurbished in a cosy, domestic style along early-mid 20th century lines. Unlike many National Trust places, here visitors are encouraged to pick up the household items, sit in the furniture and feel what home might have been like in these fascinating structures. After most of the day out, we dropped Rachael back in Birmingham headed to our dinner date in Warrington, via Alderley Edge. I was such a fan of Alan Garner's books (these ones) as a kid and had a fantastic experience the first time we came to this area, remembering the books, matching the maps with places and going investigating. This was only a brief stop, but oh, wow, I still feel like I know these woods - and the things that might lurk there. It also made me want to re-read Boneland. Anyway! We had a good time with our friend Derry in Warrington. I had chocolate gnocchi for dessert.

A fantastic visit to @NTKinver - cosy houses burrowed into the red sandstone, people lived here until the 60s! #NTRoadTrip @nationaltrust pic.twitter.com/GCZczwxUDa

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 9, 2017

The views up above @NTKinver are pretty good, too! #NTRoadTrip #RoadTrip pic.twitter.com/A6G4y1dN2H

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 9, 2017
Landscape
Gorgeous views from Alderley Edge. One kid came and sat in this spot, gasped and exclaimed, "It's just like a photo!" (Can you spot the buzzards?)
Day 15: Quarry Bank, Manchester*
This was a bit of a terrible day, in that I didn't really eat properly until about 3pm. The less said about that, the better! But Quarry Bank was fascinating. The demonstrations were really informative and helped create a physical appreciation of the place's history - the noise, the dangers, the smells, the speed. We bought a tea towel woven on the machines in the factory and headed off to Manchester. It was such a pleasure to spend time with Sarah and Jit and their six cats (SIX CATS). We had a great walk along the canal into the city centre with Sarah, where we met Jit for a drink in the late afternoon sun before gorging ourselves on yet more delicious pizza.

And the gardens and grounds are gorgeous! #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/cgcjRzersa

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 10, 2017

And of course, the pizza. An important part of any #RoadTrip. pic.twitter.com/TC3t490aMq

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 10, 2017
Black and white photo of workers
This picture of Quarry Bank workers reminded me more of a 70s folk band.
​Day 16: Lyme Park and House
After an amazing breakfast (thanks, Sarah - and thanks also for the amazing picnic lunch and dinner on this day!) we all piled into the car and headed off to Lyme. Another NT property with all the trimmings - deer park, stately home, formal garden, stables, orangery, etc. I got to play the piano (as I had at A la Ronde and Knightshayes) and we heard a talk about one of the owners of Lyme. Dan and I tried on the dress ups at pretty much every NT place where they were on offer, but Lyme was definitely the best. They had a whole room of clothes and volunteer assistants to help you dress and you could put on a complete outfit and wander around the property in it! We saw a few people in full costume around the house. Brilliant!

Today's @nt_scones = an improvement on yesterday's! More @NTLymePark pics to come... #NTRoadTrip @nationaltrust pic.twitter.com/TSMGW9sJLO

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 11, 2017

Yeah! @NTLymePark dress ups are THE BEST! On safari, country squire, henchmen, pretty maids. #NTRoadTrip @nationaltrust pic.twitter.com/HUeGwTlZ8m

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 11, 2017
four people in a gateway
I love this photo of the four of us, taken by one of the grounds staff at Lyme. I can't remember what the joke was - Dan's messy hair?

The North

The North (The NORTH). I can count the number of times we've been north of Manchester on one hand (once to Scotland, once to the Yorkshire Dales, once to the Lake District), so it was great to be back! I think it feels so far away from us down on the south coast that we don't even think about going there on holiday. That's kind of changed after this trip, and I like to think that we'll visit The NORTH more frequently, now.
valley
Day 17: John Rylands Library*, Malham Tarn Estate
Having had a lovely time with Sarah and Jit, we went with them into town and visited the John Rylands Library, where we wandered around an interesting exhibition, ogled the reading room and admired the very cool neo-Gothic spaces (the library has featured in the Harry Potter films). We ate a tasty brunch before setting off northwards, with no precise destination in mind. We wanted to check out Malham Tarn and the rain stopped just in time for a lovely stroll on the boardwalk. We spotted wildflowers and ate wild raspberries -yum! Further and further through the Yorkshire Dales we pootled, checking out a couple of campsites to no avail before stumbling upon a Camping and Caravanning Club affiliated one in Aysgarth, where we settled in for the night.

Fantastic natural display at Malham Tarn. Marsh valerian, devil's bit scabious, wild (feral?) raspberries, ragged robin & more! #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/LYapyrrw2i

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 12, 2017

Yorkshire. Foraged something that I think is Good King Henry. At any rate, we ate it in our noodles and are still alive. #NTRoadTrip #Chooks pic.twitter.com/OsTt7czA6D

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 12, 2017
Posters on brick wall - one says HOME STREET HOME
Street art in Manchester.
Day 18: Aysgarth Falls*, Tan Hill Inn*, Hadrian's Wall and Housesteads Fort
​We'd never heard of the Aysgarth Falls before, but as we were camped nearby it only seemed right to toddle down for a peek and a paddle. It was a glorious morning, so we made the most of it. We decided to head for Hadrian's Wall in the afternoon, which meant another long drive, down quaint country lanes and up over crumbling moors (there is some seriously bad erosion going on up there). We stopped off for lunch at Tan Hill Inn, a popular spot not only because it's the highest pub in Britain but because the Pennine Way leads right to its door. We reached Hadrian's Wall later than we might have liked, but still had enough time to take in the exhibition as well as Housesteads Fort. It reminded me so much of The Wall in Garth Nix's Old Kingdom series, I was concerned by the lack of wind flutes. Having signed up to the CCC that morning, we checked the app for nearby campsites. As luck would have it, there was one just down the road that had space for us - and they even gave us half a dozen eggs!

Morning paddle and a spot of reading at Aysgarth Falls. #RoadTrip #Yorkshire pic.twitter.com/n6eMM7iHPE

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 13, 2017

Nipping in for our @nationaltrust visit today - Housesteads at Hadrian's Wall. Now to find accommodation! #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/pxFL8ed78w

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 13, 2017
6 eggs in a carton
Fresh eggs from the farm! They had sheep and donkeys, too. Despite the noise from the A69, this was a nice spot.
Day 19: Wallington, Cragside
After the massive, crunched up hills of Yorkshire, Northumbria seems to stretch itself back out, with longer, lower rises and gentler valleys. Driving through the heather-drenched landscape, we found a sign pointing to Wallington, where red squirrels might be found. Of course, we stopped! An hour in the hide only turned up birds (mainly tits, robins, nuthatches, woodpeckers) and a tiny frog, but it was an enjoyable break. We headed to Cragside in the afternoon. A couple of people had mentioned this as a destination - and no wonder! It was the first home to be lit by hydroelectricity, so there's some interesting engineering history there, but it's also a great house (with the most ridiculous 10 tonne marble fireplace) and a gorgeous estate.

Wallington was an unplanned visit. Our destination was @NTcragside, which has some nice glass. @nationaltrust #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/7IccbTilMH

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 14, 2017

AND @NTcragside has amazing #fungi all round the estate at the moment. #NTRoadTrip @nationaltrust pic.twitter.com/DtkQsSZSQ4

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 14, 2017
Fields with purple hills in the background
The gloriously purple, heather-coated hills of Northumbria.
Day 20: Barter Books*, Lindisfarne, Scotland*
The day got off to a bad start. We couldn't find the car keys anywhere (we looked everywhere - the field, the tent, the facilities caravan) and presumed we'd locked them in the boot. We called our insurance to get a locksmith, but he got lost on the way and it took 2 hours for him to arrive. He opened the car, we still couldn't find the keys . . . until Dan went back into the tent, and there they were. Argh! Hungry for breakfast, we found a random cafe in nearby Alnwick - which turned out to be in the most awesome second hand book shop, Barter Books. After breakfast, we headed to the Holy Island of Lindisfarne, parking in the dunes and finishing the trip on foot. It was packed with tourists and the castle was closed, so we bought some mead and walked back, the ghostly moans of the seals drifting across the water on the wind. As we were so close to Scotland, we popped up to cross the border. On the way back to the campsite I had a paddle at Cocklawburn Beach in the dark blue North Sea. The day ended better than it began with a delicious picnic (with mead, natch) in the low evening sunshine.

Obligatory border pics. #RoadTrip pic.twitter.com/wmM0Q2Y7jN

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 15, 2017

Then to Cocklawburn Beach. They're not lying when they say the North Sea is chilly. #RoadTrip pic.twitter.com/kZVBDEnVjR

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 15, 2017
person in landscape
A walker crosses the intertidal zone between the Holy Island and the mainland. I'm tempted to do one of the long-distance routes that starts/ends here.

Back down to the East

And so we began driving south - "downhill" - out of The NORTH . . . it felt like we'd turned the corner and were heading back home. In fact, we reminded ourselves, we still had a week to go!
Day 21: Fountains Abbey
The Unthank sisters brought a tear to our eye as we passed Gormley's Angel. The day's stop was Fountains Abbey, set in the beautiful Studley Royal Water Garden, where we wandered the paths, enjoyed the interpretation timeline, admired the views, did a bit of knitting and of course ate a scone. I haven't mentioned every scone we ate. There were so many! I was quite the contributor (or should I say Sconepal?) to the National Trust Scones Twitter feed. That night we stayed in another CCC affiliated site - our first choice was a cute place that turned out to be wedged between two noisy motorways, but we ended up in a bleak semi-industrial landscape with pylons and smokestacks in the background. But the staff were nice, the food was fine and the showers were warm.

Is this the @nt_scones with the best view? @fountainsabbey and Studley Royal Water Garden on a sunny day - wow! #NTRoadTrip @nationaltrust pic.twitter.com/ljyWhX4gQy

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 16, 2017

That @fountainsabbey is alright, innit? A bit broken in places, though. @nationaltrust #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/tkHb6qX7VT

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 16, 2017
Person sitting reading beside footpath
Dan reading beside the path.
Day 22: Nostell, Sheffield*
Having camped not too far from Nostell, we got to the property early and had a peaceful stroll around the walled garden - and a few spins on the flying fox/zip wire! - before the crowds arrived. We went on an informative guided tour of the house, learning about the owners, architects/designers and collections. Our guide took pains to point out the collection of Chippendale furniture - some of which was horrible, in my non-expert opinion! In the afternoon, we headed to Sheffield to stay with our friends Vic and Jonjo (who have better taste) and went for a drink on a rooftop terrace to soak up some summery atmosphere. The last bit of our trip was shaping up to have much better weather.

At @NostellNT #1: the kitchen garden. I especially liked the apple bum. @nationaltrust #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/jT4mLqHzLu

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 17, 2017

At @NostellNT #2: exterior. Not really sure how @thebooklender's legs are attached. Mystery. @nationaltrust #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/lrUL3RpzjR

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 17, 2017
Detailing on wall, ceiling and alcove
One of the fantastic interiors at Nostell. There really were some gorgeous spaces here.
Day 22: Tattershall Castle
​After a homemade breakfast (thanks, Vic) we were off, heading towards Tattershall Castle. I didn't know what to expect, but I loved it! After seeing a few "in the style of" neo-Gothic or Romantic-mediaeval properties, it was good to get a feel for a space that is solidly middle ages - the big rooms, wide fireplaces, spiral stairways and windows over the moat. Mostly, though, I loved the graffiti, which had been scratched into the stone from the 1700s right through until the present. We heard others tut-tutting about it, but how cool to think of someone's hands running over that precise spot over 200 years ago. (Some of the graffiti was, perhaps, a little less authentic - check the tweet below.) We decided we'd rather not spend a night in the forecast storm, so we pushed on across the lowlands of Lincolnshire, through New York and Boston (yes!) and around the Wash to the comfy bed that awaited us in Norfolk.

Ooh, @NTTattershall is cool. But I'm gutted that after 3wks @nationaltrust training, I still haven't got my Cromwells straight. #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/IuCahEQFyL

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 18, 2017

Loved all the graffiti in @NTTattershall castle, too. I think we found the oldest bits. @nationaltrust #NTRoadTrip pic.twitter.com/BCdJAe9dBi

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 18, 2017
Gold cider cans stuffed into a metal grate
Contemporary art installation in Sheffield. (Art, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, you know.)
In Norfolk: Morston Quay, Titchwell*, Sandringham*
Our road trip proper stopped in Norfolk, where we stayed with family in a holiday house for a while. I went swimming a couple of mornings, we visited Titchwell RSPB reserve a few times, we ate some good food and did some touristy things. Including . . . seeing seals! They were delightful to watch. Our final National Trust place was Morston Quay, near Brancaster. You can listen to the sound of boat rigging in the wind below. We also visited Sandringham (the Queen's house), which made for an interesting comparison with all the NT stately homes we'd seen. You only get to visit a handful of rooms, but they're apparently set up just as they are when Her Maj is in residence. It must be odd to live amongst the collections of stuff from past royals - there's a whole collection of jade ornaments, which I found especially unappealing. You can read a bit more about the interiors in this Country Life article, if you're interested.

Every Wednesday should start with a dip in the sea, IMO. #Norfolk #WildSwimming #GoodMorning pic.twitter.com/lu5zbYPgvg

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 23, 2017

Gorgeous day at Titchwell (@Natures_Voice) and Brancaster (@nationaltrust). Best of all, seals! Also, a dead dolphin/dinosaur/monster... pic.twitter.com/eOUQ3bJKFT

— Jonathan (@jonathanworking) August 20, 2017
Adult and juvenile seals on a sandy/muddy bank
Seals at Blakeney Point. There were people swimming here, too, and sometimes the seals would follow them at a distance. Very cool!
And so our National Trust road trip was at an end. Dan and I agreed that it had been a great holiday.

We saw new sights, learnt many interesting things and had a ready-made structure to each day. Car camping was fairly low stress, though next time I would be a bit more organised - we took far too much stuff, probably because before we left we were concentrating on moving house rather than packing for a holiday. The Camping and Caravanning Club membership proved a happy medium between total spontaneity (and the stress that can bring) and complete pre-planning (and the lack of flexibility that can bring). Hopefully we'll use it again over the year. Speaking of memberships, I'd thought by the end of our trip I would be sick of National Trust branded literature and atmosphere, but it wasn't too bad - each place retained enough individual character to intrigue and charm us.

We were ready to stop by the end, though. As much as it was enjoyable to pop in to so many different parts of the country, I think next time we'll pick just one or two areas to explore!
Disposable National Trust branded coffee cup
Is the special place my belly? Because that is true.

Thanks so much to all the folks who put us up, fed and watered us and/or spent time with us: Rachael, Dru, Allysse, Emma, Kate & family, Rachael (another one!), Derry, Sarah, Jit, Vic & family, the Katzes.

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2016 revisited: July

11/1/2017

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A summer of celebrations and holidays!
unlerlit, peachy clouds
A friend came to visit in July. Having visitors is always lovely, partly because it gives us the chance to check out some of our favourite places and share them with other people. One day we went up to Battle Museum and spent some time in the gorgeous Almonry Gardens out the back. A community tapestry to mark the 950th anniversary of the Battle of Hastings was underway, so we all went and stitched a bit of history!
brightly coloured flowers
tapestry
It was a year for anniversaries in Sussex. Brighton was celebrating 250 years of Jewish residency in the town, with a series of cultural events including lectures, concerts and exhibitions. One key event in the calendar was the unveiling of a Blue Plaque dedicated to Brighton's (then called Brighthelmstone) first Jewish resident, Israel Samuel. Israel Samuel is my ancestor and we attended the unveiling along with another two hundred or so spectators and various dignitaries. There were three direct descendents including me, my third cousin from New Zealand and her son who lives in the USA. We were treated very well as guests of honour, invited to a reception in the mayor's parlor, a special opening of the old synagogue and to lunch in Brighton. The Middle Street Synagogue is a beautiful old building which is no longer used for worship and is not often open to the public, so it was a real treat to be able to spend some time inside.
Blue plaque and curtains
stained glass
We had a weekend break with friends in the little town of Haddenham in Buckinghamshire. It was lovely to catch up with them and to feed the ducks in the pond on the green outisde the church. (Plus, we just spotted it in the most recent episode of Midsomer Murders - yes, I have seen every single episode ever, don't judge me.)
moorhen chicks
Ducklings
And then it was the summer holidays. Several weeks off in July and August has to be one of the best bits about working in a school! We set off to walk from the English Channel to the Bristol Channel with nothing but a backpack (and reservations at a number of B&Bs, haha!). I posted lots of photos at the time, but here are a few more from the walk - including some from the last day, which was actually the 1st of August. Shhh, don't tell!
cow
big round rock
river and grey clouds
stream or path
church
green woods
heather
cliffs and sea
I shall sign off with a very short compilation of video footage taken at various places over the month of July.

Five Snippets (July 2016) from In Which I on Vimeo.


Previous 2016 revisits: January, February, March, April, May and June.

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Channel to Channel: kit list, map and accommodation

2/9/2016

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Our channel to channel trip included a few pretty long days of walking. One way of making a long walk more pleasant is to do some training. We didn’t do that. Instead, we opted for Option B: carry less stuff.
Bags on seat
All our gear for 4.5 days.
person walking under trees
Shoulder bag and camera: small load!

Pack lighter, go further

That’s the mantra of many ultralight hikers. The idea is that the less weight you carry, the easier it is to walk long distances. You’re less tired, less weighed down, less likely to injure yourself. And after this walk I’m inclined to agree (though having the money to convert to ultralight gear, or the desire to sleep in a half sleeping bag is another matter!). Although we could have done the long days with big packs, I think we would have been even more exhausted and much, much achier.

Our biggest weight saving came from staying in B&Bs every night. I figured that, with the exception of a few things, we only needed to pack what we’d usually take on a day walk. We didn’t need to bring any sleeping gear or shelter and most B&Bs provide soap, shampoo, conditioner, moisturiser and tea bags (though we packed some Earl Grey teabags, in case any B&Bs only had plain tea!). Because it was only four and a half days of walking, we embraced the stink and didn’t carry any extra clothes. We checked the weather and left our jumpers behind, deciding a t-shirt/shirt/raincoat combo would be warm enough. We also left our PJs out . . . rude! We relied on eating out or not being hungry most nights, so we usually only had to buy and carry snacks and lunch a day at a time. As we knew we’d be passing quite a few pubs and villages, there was no need for the trowel, toilet paper or much first aid. I figured the batteries on my camera and the dictaphone would last, so didn’t pack chargers or spares. In the end, we could easily fit all of our gear into one day pack (Dan) and one shoulder bag (Jonathan).
person walking on harbour arm
When it rained, I had to tie a knot in my shoulder strap to hitch my bag up under my coat. It worked OK.

Kit list

  • 1 pair shorts (each)
  • 1 long sleeved shirt (each)
  • 1 t-shirt (Dan) / 1 thermal t-shirt (Jonathan)
  • 2 sets underwear (each)
  • 2 pairs socks (each)
  • Sun hat (each)
  • Raincoat (each)
  • Hiking boots (each)
  • Toothbrushes
  • Toothpaste
  • Deodorant
  • Sunscreen
  • Lip balm
  • A few bandaids
  • Paracetamol
  • 2 x 600mL bottles of water
  • Water treatment drops
  • Thermos
  • 2 x plastic cups
  • Small carton of UHT soya cream
  • 6 x Earl Grey teabags
  • Snacks and light lunch when needed
  • Bank cards, tickets, cash
  • Itinerary and booking details
  • 3 x OS maps (borrowed from the Ramblers map library - members only)
  • Journal and pen
  • Mini cassette recorder
  • Camera
  • Phone and charger
  • 2 x hankies
  • Backpack (Dan) / shoulder bag (Jonathan)
  • Dry bag, plastic bags, ziplock bags

Thoughts on our gear

I found this review helpful after our walk across Wales last year, so I'm doing it again.

What didn’t we use? We didn’t use the water treatment drops. Although there was one day when we came close, in the end we just asked at a farmhouse to fill our bottles and they obliged - which actually made for a much more interesting experience. I didn’t really use my thermal top, though Dan wore his t-shirt. Because we had the voice recorder, I didn’t write very much in my little journal. We had a couple of teabags left at the end, too.

What did we appreciate most? Probably our biggest luxury was our daily thermos of tea. It’s not light, and the tea paraphernalia can get a bit bulky. However, a nice cuppa can make all the difference in a long day of walking - it can really pull you (read: me) out of a mid-afternoon slump. I also want to give big props to my shoulder bag - it’s a Stuffit Pram Bag, which a former boss of mine bought for me at a trade show. I love the wide shoulder strap, which spreads the load over my shoulder so that it never digs in.

What did we miss? I missed having a second, less stinky top - Dan wore his t-shirt to dinner in Honiton and when we socialised with our hosts after having showers. My thermal t-shirt doesn’t really work for that. Maybe next time I’d take a normal t-shirt or a short-sleeved shirt instead. Dan says he would’ve liked a set of undies and socks “just for evening wear”. How posh!

What did we not take and not miss? Jumper, thermal leggings, walking poles, waterproof trousers - pretty much anything not on the packing list and not mentioned above.
bags maps boots
Rest stop! Once again, OS maps proved to be good makeshift groundsheets.
person walking on road between hedges
I swapped shoulders every hour or two.

Route map

Because no trip report is truly complete unless there’s a map! We started the walk at Budleigh Salterton, near Exmouth. We mostly followed the River Otter to its source in the Blackdown Hills. We dropped down into the Vale of Taunton Deane, then headed up onto the Quantocks for the majority of the last day. Finally, we more or less followed the Doniford Stream to Watchet.
map
An overview of our walk. The red circles indicate where we stayed overnight.
We didn’t follow any specific long distance route, though we ended up sharing the path with a good number of them at different points. I used my usual method for charting a course and booking accommodation and I was pretty happy with the route we took.
map
Zooming out to give those less familiar with UK geography a better idea of where we walked.
In terms of transport, we drove to Taunton and parked in the station car park. We took the train to Exmouth (I loved the section where the train line is so close to the edge of the River Exe that it seems to be travelling over the water) and a bus to Budleigh. At the other end, we took the bus from Watchet back to Taunton. This set-up worked well for us (apart from the terrible service from Buses of Somerset on the Watchet-Taunton leg). Thanks to Dan for organising transport! It was a simple thing to hop in the car back at Taunton and then head off to Wales.

Year of Sleeping Variously: B&B edition

Oh yeah! We're back on with this thing! So, over the course of our holiday, which included this walk, the canoeing trip, a day in Monmouth, a night in Malvern, a weekend in Birmingham and a few days in London, we slept at: 4 B&Bs (including one booked on Airbnb), 2 Airbnbs (the proper kind in a house), 2 campsites, 1 friend's house and Dan's folks' place. So there is plenty to choose from. For no particular reason, I'm reviewing Eastcote House in Honiton.
double bed
Comfy bed - just what you need after a long day of walking.
  • Bed (4/5) - Comfy. Nicer than it looks on the website or even in my picture.
  • Room (5/5) - We got a whole private sitting/lounge room alongside the bedroom. Fancy.
  • View (3/5) - A view out over the B&B's beautiful garden to the Blackdown Hills beyond.
  • Facilities (4/5) - No bath in the ensuite bathroom - that would have made it a 5!
  • Location (4/5) - It was a very good town location, up one end of the High Street. This made it a short walk to the supermarkets, shops and restaurants of Honiton.
  • People (4/5) - Friendly B&B types. Had a nice chat with Roger over breakfast.
  • Food (5/5) - Breakfast was delicious. Home made muesli and jams, raspberries picked fresh from the garden, cooked breakfast - yum!
  • Value (3/5) - Good value, especially considering the vast space we had to spread out in. I almost wished we were staying longer to take full advantage of it!
  • Uniqueness (2/5) - It's a pretty place with a lovely garden, but it's not terribly unique. 
  • That indefinable something (2/5) - There was fruit and chocolate provided in our private sitting room along with the usual tea and biscuits. Not really related to the place, but we had a good dinner out with a friend in Honiton (which was an unexpected surprise).
​
B&B verdict: 72%.


Previously in our Year of Sleeping Variously: tarp on a hill; tent in a garden; holiday cottage on a farm; tent at a campsite; cabin by a canal; budget hotel.


If you've got any questions about our gear or our route, drop me a line in the comments. Also, I love snooping at a good kit list, so feel free to link to one of yours!

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Channel to Channel

15/8/2016

8 Comments

 
A 100km walk from the English Channel in Devon to the Bristol Channel in Somerset. (It was a pretty long walk and this is a pretty long post. Make yourself a cup of tea.)

1. Budleigh Salterton to Otterton

At Budleigh Salterton the sun is hot, the ice cream is cold, the sky is blue and the sea is red.
small red wave
My first thought (you know how your brain starts reasoning before you are consciously looking for an explanation) is, “There must be a dead whale.” But there is no dead whale. There is a giant penguin made out of coloured stones. The sea is red. Not the whole sea, but out past the small breakers, maybe twenty metres or so: red. People seem quite happy to be paddling and swimming in it. There is a bus as well as a penguin, beach art, stone art. Perhaps the water is red from the soil, from the cliffs of the Jurassic Coast. Iron in the earth, iron in the water. Perhaps it’s algae.
pebble beach and red sea
beach art made from stones
We stare for a while and lick our ice creams. Then we head down to the beach. It is a pebbly beach and the stones are so smooth and round I wonder if they’ve been trucked in from a factory. Each one I pick up has some interesting aspect: an unfamiliar pastel purple colouration, a thin line of white quartz encircling the end, a smooth pyramid shape, a web of white lines, thick bands of colour, an alcove of crystals (rock or salt, I wonder), a perfect oval, swirls of red on grey, spots of yellow in green, a skimming stone. It is a struggle to choose just two small pebbles each - one to carry to the Bristol Channel, one to take home.
Wet pebbles in lots of colours
The map says we’ll find the mouth of the River Otter just in front of the small headland to the east. We avoid stepping on crab shells and claws - a crustacean cemetery - and skirt around the long, dry bodies of dead dogfish, a kind of small shark with spotty fins and tail. The stones, larger at the top of the beach, smaller near the water, rub and squeak underfoot. We have plenty of time and only a short walk ahead of us this afternoon. Boots off, socks off, time for a paddle in the English Channel. Hello red sea, goodbye red sea. We’ll see saltwater again on the other side.
feet and the sea
river and kayaker
We turn inland, to the river. The lower reaches are tidal and the tide is out. We see a small estuary covered in grey salt marsh vegetation, a kayak heading to the open water, the river meandering blue and silver, surrounded by a rich rust-red mud. On the cliffs opposite, someone walks the South West Coast Path, turning upstream to the first footbridge. We see him again as we walk north along sun-baked tracks between high hedges, past glimpses of the river, of gulls, goldfinches and grey wagtails, a cricket match. A couple visiting from St Ives ask us if we’ve seen any kingfishers. “Not here. But along the canals, up around the Home Counties.” They’re yet to spot one in the wild.
electric blue damselfly
Less than a mile from the sea and the river has changed almost completely, merging into the freshwater stream we will follow for the next few days. The water is clear and shallow, large grey fish flick and glide in the current and the stony riverbed looks almost golden in the bright afternoon sunshine. Along the margins, damselflies - demoiselles, with their electric blue bodies and coloured wings - dart between the shadows, coming to rest on the water weeds. We cross to the east bank and climb above the river. The road follows the valley, but trees block most of the view. Is it just me, or do the trees seem to grow taller down here? Is it that little bit of extra warmth, or less pollution, or simply fewer people to interfere with their growth?
river
fish
This is the worst prepared I’ve been for a walk in ages. We haven’t done any multi-day hikes in months. We haven’t even done a long day walk this summer. “It’s OK,” says Dan. “The walk can be it’s own training.” Still, it’s probably lucky we’ve brought barely anything - just a day pack and a shoulder bag. A change of undies and socks, a few toiletries, an extra t-shirt, raincoats, maps and a thermos. Oh, and a retro mini-cassette dictaphone that Mags let me borrow to take notes, an experiment instead of using paper and pen. It takes us an hour or so to get to Otterton, where we visit the church - a big, solid-feeling building, out of proportion to the village - then head to the pub, our home for the night.
church
Before dinner, we stroll out the back, up a hill and down to a bend in the river where I go paddling. On our side there’s a pebbled beach leading down to the river; across six or eight metres of water, a cliff rises into the overhanging boughs of oak. It’s dark red, with a seam of yellow (sandstone?) running through it, sprouting green ferns near the waterline. I stand with the river around my calves, examining the cliff, the trees, the flowers and try to imagine where the water has come from. A small fish jumps; a flash of silver, and is gone.
red cliff and little rapid
red cliff and river
The River Otter spins and tumbles over shallow pebble races, chuckling to itself. I decide I like it and make a voice note of this, cradled by the white noise of the rapids. “It’s such a cheerful river. It seems very clean. You never know, we might walk up it in the next couple of days and be like, That was a filthy river and I can’t believe that I put my feet in it, but at the moment I’m quite enjoying it.”
red cliff reflected in river
On the way back, a woman asks us if we’ve seen the beaver family up at the footbridge. We haven’t, but we will look out for them tomorrow.
river and path

2. Otterton to Honiton

I wake early and throw the window open. Crescent-winged swifts slice through the air high above the village, creaking and shrieking. The church bells strike every hour. After breakfast we head out, just as it begins to drizzle. By the time we reach the river, it’s raining. We don’t see the beavers, but then again we’re not very patient, waiting only a minute or two before abandoning the bridge for the shelter of the trees.
otterton sign
The river is lined with tall pink flowers. I don’t know what they are, but they’re not willowherb. They have a sickly sweet scent. I tell the dictaphone, “It might be OK to some people, but to me it smells like - we used to have this fly spray that was meant to be a nice smelling fly spray. It was gross. That’s exactly what these flowers are like.” Later, I look it up. It’s Himalayan balsam, an invasive weed that is slowly strangling many British rivers. I’m not sure if I’m glad I have permission to hate it with impunity or disappointed that I can’t use this as an opportunity to get over my first impressions and learn to love it - or at least learn how to not gag when I get a waft of it.
yellow button flowers (tansy)
purple flowers (thistle)
We spot a tall monument - we saw quite a few yesterday. “People in Devon really like their obelisks,” says Dan. “Or we’ve seen the same two from several different directions.” The rain switches back to drizzle, a rainbow appears and by the time we reach Newton Poppleford the sky is clearing. We walk though the village between high fences, apple trees nodding with unripe fruit, scruffy young blackbirds and mistle thrushes peering down at us. The rain has sweetened the air, clean scents wash around us as we pass each garden. We cross the river on a narrow, footpathless road bridge - a slightly more hair raising adventure than we anticipated. The church of St Gregory the Great is full of flower displays, past their prime but still lending their perfume to the building. Further upstream we are ushered into Tipton St John by the summery scent of honeysuckle.
thatched roof
flowers
We aren’t following any waymarked long distance path (a River Otter or Channel to Channel route, for example), but we join the Coleridge Link Footpath for a while. Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born in 1772 at Ottery St Mary, the next town along. I did no research before we left, and I don’t know much of Coleridge’s poetry, but when we return home I find his sonnet “To the River Otter”.
stream
path on field
Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West!
How many various-fated years have past,
What happy and what mournful hours, since last
I skimm’d the smooth thin stone along thy breast,
Numbering its light leaps! yet so deep imprest
Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes
I never shut amid the sunny ray,
But straight with all their tints thy waters rise,
Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey,
And bedded sand that vein’d with various dyes
Gleam’d through thy bright transparence! On my way,
Visions of Childhood! oft have ye beguil’d
Lone manhood’s cares, yet waking fondest sighs:
Ah! that once more I were a careless Child!
derelict mill
North of Tipton St John, we pass a derelict old mill and hear the thudding beat of water through some unseen mechanism. A wheel? Something on the weir? We end up having to retrace our steps because the path on the east bank has been washed away, which gives us plenty of time to wonder about the noise. A kingfisher darts away down the river as we cross the high footbridge. We follow the path along the west bank through plumes of butterflies until we find the source of the beat: a water screw.
lamb
strawberry
In the churchyard at Ottery St Mary, we share a Sainsburys meal deal and punnet of strawberries, turning our collars up against a badly-timed rain shower. There’s some kind of event happening at the church, so we don’t go in. “Maybe a funeral,” says Dan. “They look like bouncers,” I reply. When we leave, a dozen military types in plain clothes - tan shorts and pastel polo shirts - are practicing their own specially coordinated walk between the gravestones.
white house on hill
view
The river curves north and then east to Honiton, but it’s followed closely for several kilometres by the A30. We head across country instead, down tiny lanes, past a house we recognise from Grand Designs, through fields of cows and up a short, steep escarpment that affords us fantastic views over the low hills of Devon. We can see more rain in the distance, moving slowly our way. We hope it will miss us.
vista
The hilltop is another world, a cool, shady woodland of tall trees, moss, ferns, even taller trees, broadleaf and conifer side by side. Some of the old beeches are straight, some twist and curl, others sprout branches like splayed hands. The leaves gather the light like new gold coins, then scatter it across the path.
road through trees
in church
We take a short break for tea in Gittisham, where I finally get to take my boots off and cool my feet in a roadside streamlet. There's not much water, but it’s enough to shake me of my mid-afternoon mood slump. “The thing about having a break,” I tell the dictaphone as we climb out of the village, “is that even if you don’t feel good straight away, a little bit later you can tell. I do feel better. A kestrel!”
handkerchief fields
Near Honiton, we discover a permissive path to Roundball Hill. It’s not marked on our maps, but it looks like there’ll be some good views, so we take a chance. The views from the top are, indeed, very fine - over the rooftops of Honiton to the Blackdown Hills beyond. The slope down the other side is also very fine and I have fun rolling down it.
roundball hill view
rowan berries
It’s been a long day and we’re pretty happy to jump in the shower and floomp in our private sitting room. Fancy. The only record I have of this time is me saying in a very creaky voice, “I am old and in great pain!” Later in the evening, I get philosophical. “There’s something very simple and honest about walking from this place to that place, because all you have to do is walk. There’s not really anything else you have to think about or worry yourself about. Just getting there. You just walk.” Deep. We go out for an unexpected dinner with a friend who lives in Devon. I ask her about the red sea at Budleigh Salterton, but she’s never seen anything like it. On the way back to our B&B, we see a kestrel flying above the buildings, south west along the line of the high street.

3. Honiton to Blackwater

From the dictaphone: “I’m having the kind of crap morning of walking that you will only really understand if you’ve had a crap morning while walking.”
cow
First the map doesn’t match what’s on the ground - it’s not a road (as per the paper map) or a cycle path (as per the online version), but an un-waymarked, hedged-in path through some holiday chalets. We commit to it, but it gets overgrown, soggier and stinkier as we descend. “Ever wonder if you’re walking through the sewerage of a whole caravan park?” I ask Dan. Eventually, scratched by blackberries and stung by nettles, we dash across the main road. I’m hot and bothered. Then my boots get stones and twigs and leaves in them. My feet start hurting. My undies are ridiculously uncomfortable. Then it’s all uphill. “Everything’s crap!” I complain. Dan reminds me about my philosophy of last night - nothing to worry about, just walking. “Ugh! Stop being so reasonable!” I think.
view over the valley
Everything isn’t crap, in fact. It’s a clear morning, there’s a bird of prey flitting from power pole to power pole ahead of us and two guinea fowl lead us past a farm, drumstick thighs waddling humorously up the hill. Still, I’m acutely aware by the time we make it to the Iron Age fort and the trig point at the top of Dumpdon Hill that it’s taken us more than an hour and a half to walk just over four kilometres. Only another twenty five to go.
honeysuckle
wheat
But there’s a fantastic view. And I know that holding onto my grumpiness is a waste of energy, so I take a deep breath and pretend to start the day all over again. This time, we begin with a nice downhill walk through farmland and thatched roofs into the River Otter valley. We pass Mohun’s Ottery along a driveway lined with honeysuckle; walk by fields of yellow-gold wheat; take a shady track alongside the fishing lakes and lodges of Otter Falls and soon enough follow the road into Upottery. After a quick visit to the church (one of the kneelers has an otter on it - the closest we will come to seeing an otter during the whole walk), we grab a soft drink at the pub and press on.
river otter
kneeler with otter
There’s a path down to the river, which is marked on my map as a cycle path and on the waymarker as a “county road”. It rapidly becomes a stream bed. I’m quite surprised to find a footbridge at the end - surprised, and perhaps a bit disappointed that we don’t have to ford the river! We make our way through a few more fields of long grass, butterflies tumbling around us, onto a sealed road. At the bridge, we stop to pick seeds out of our socks and I can’t resist jumping in. It’s deliciously cold. “My feet are going numb, it’s nice,” I tell Dan. Then, “I don’t understand! Why don’t you want to come in?!”
county road marker
The river is noticeably narrower. It’s only a few metres across, easily spanned by pretty stone bridges and easily smothered - unless something is done soon - by Himalayan balsam. The valley is also closing in: there’s only a field-width of floodplain here, and even that will soon disappear.
water weed with flowers
We climb up and down the hills through the dozy afternoon. Birds drift in the distance. We surprise a hare and it lopes off down the road. It’s quiet. It smells of the countryside - barns, manure, hay, hot grass, cider. Big cumulus clouds drift overhead. It’s pleasant walking and a good day to be out.
flower garden
tree
When we rejoin the river, it’s no more than a little stream trickling through a lush, wooded valley. There are ferns growing on the side of the road and swarms of insects over the water. We don’t stop. “I’m dreaming of a really comfortable, cool bed,” I say. “Oh, and a bath. And a hamburger - vegetarian, obviously. Maybe a mango.” Dan tells me he’s dreaming about eating a watermelon and taking his boots off. “And paddling in the water?” I ask. (I still don’t understand people who don’t go paddling when it’s an option!)
lakes
The two Otterhead Lakes - reservoirs, really - are surrounded by a nature reserve, fed by the river and used for fishing. We pass a Forest School site and the remains of what looks like a walled garden. This used to be the landscaped grounds of Otterhead House, part of the Otterhead Estate. The house was demolished in 1952, after being used for storage by various water authorities and as medical storage in the second world war.
sign post
sorrel
At Otterford we stop for a very late, very well-deserved lunch under two spreading yew trees in front of the church. Our meal comprises Mini Babybel and, according to the dictaphone, “the best crackers I have ever eaten”, supplemented by handfuls of tangy sorrel that I find growing in the church yard. We’re out of water and the tap at the church says theirs is not suitable for drinking. We have some purification drops, but decide it’s less hassle to ask at the nearby farmhouse. The woman there kindly helps out, and when she discovers that we’ve walked from Budleigh Salterton, she’s tell us that she’s filled our bottles with “River Otter water, filtered for bugs and things” and that the river rises on their top field.
source
sheep
A few minutes later, I’m recording again. “We’ve made it to the source, more or less,” I tell the dictaphone. “And as sources so often are, it is extremely underwhelming! It’s a very shallow, very narrow ditch full of nettles . . . in the middle of nowhere in particular. But we made it!” We congratulate each other, take a couple of terrible selfies and strike out for our B&B - still another six kilometres away. 
cows and landscape
On the way we pass Robin Hood’s Butts (four or five tumuli in a roadside field) and help rescue a lamb with its head caught in a fence. Actually, I can’t get it out, even after snipping through the wool that has wound itself around the wire, so we knock on the door of the next farm we come to. “Oh, that’s not my sheep. It’s [redacted]’s sheep,” the farmer tells us. “Stupid things.” I’m not sure if he’s implying that his sheep are more intelligent than that. He heads off with a pair of wire cutters. We climb another hill, enjoying the honey-gold light of the late afternoon and trying to ignore our sore feet. And then, finally, we were at our B&B, welcomed, allowed to shower and plied with tea and cake. After that, we sleep.
landscape with church

3. Blackwater to Seven Ash

An elderly woman is pottering around in her beautiful cottage garden. We saw her last night, and she’s out again today in the bright morning sunshine. She flags us down to have a natter over the hedge, telling us how long she’s lived there and asking where we’ve come from and where we’re headed. “I might have done that once,” she says. “I was a rambler!”
path in woods
A long stretch of woodland walking takes us around the northern escarpment of the Blackdown Hills. Under the trees, the air is cool and refreshing. Small birds busy themselves in the leaves. In the areas managed for butterflies steamy warmth radiates from the grasses and flowers beside the path. We wander through the Sunday stillness. “I think this is the quietest it’s been for our whole walk,” I murmur into the dictaphone. “You can hear the leaves stirring. You can hear the hum of flies and bees. A few birds tweeting. The wind, when it picks up a bit. And very, very far in the distance, if you’re listening for it, you can hear some of the noises of human activity. It’s very tranquil.”
meadowsweet
vetch
Here the track narrows and twists through wildflowers, here it broadens to climb through oaks or hazel, here it twists past ruined stone walls as they melt slowly back into the green light.  And sometimes we turn a corner to find the world laid out before us, stretching lazily, hazily to the horizon. There’s a plain, the Vale of Taunton Deane, there are a few wooded ridges to the north east, there’s the bulk of what must be the Quantock Hills to the north. We debate whether this is our first glimpse of Wales in the blue distance.
vista
We drop down into Corfe and follow the East Deane Way to Trull, through fields of maize and long, golden grass, over the M5 (“SO PEACEFUL!”), past hedges boiling with sparrows. It’s turning into quite a varied day. At Trull, we buy a mishmash of food from the little store: corn chips, apple puffs, chocolate raisins. Our plans for morning tea in a field are scuppered by acres of cow poo and, more to the point, the baking sun. Instead, we sit on a shady bank outside someone’s garden, watching semi-suburban life go by. It smells of cut grass, of the weekend.
oak in field
footbridge
At Stonegallows Hill (“Taunton’s execution site from 1575 to 1810,” reads the monument), we’re overtaken by two speedy walkers in their late 60s or early 70s. They tell us they’re on a pub crawl then leave us to eat their dust. We’ll cross paths with them later on, and discuss walking footwear (they’re wearing sandals), long distance walking (for fun and charity) and recommended routes (they love the Cambrian Way). Before then, though, Dan and I have an adventure with cows.
landscape
They’re small cows, young Jerseys, and they’re up the top of the hill when we enter the field. We’re maybe a quarter of the way along the path, which runs along the bottom of the paddock, when they start running towards us. We’re blocked in by a low electric wire, a small ditch of nettles and a hedge. “If we have to, we can jump the wire into the ditch,” I say to Dan. We pick up our pace. The cows pick up their pace. “Shoo!” I yell at them, and wave my arms. That slows them down, at least. Less chance of being pushed over and trampled. But they still come closer. We turn to face them and walk backwards along the path. Dan does his best impression of Gandalf: “You! Shall! Not! Pass!” We clap our hands and wave our arms. No joy. I open the OS map and flap it at them, which sends them back a few steps. They aren’t angry and they aren’t big, but they’re starting to hem us in - and they don’t have to be angry or big to do damage. We’re about two thirds of the way across the field. I crack the map at them again, yell something unintelligible, turn on my heel and high tail it to the fence. Dan scampers up a few moments later. The cows, clearly fascinated with our antics, follow suit. Safely on the other side, heartbeat returning to normal, adrenaline dumping out of my system, I laugh. One of the cows has a stripe of snot across its face. One of them has a nose ring. Other than that, they are, like all Jersey cows, very pretty.
cows
After all that excitement, apple puffs aren’t going to cut it. We stop at the pub near the rail crossing at Allerford and share a ploughman’s lunch. Our shirts dry in the sunshine and wind, stiffening with sweat. Dan has salt lines where the straps of his bag have pressed against his shoulders, chest and sides. It’s good to rest, but the dictaphone reminds me: “Starting again is so hard. My feet are cold, and stiff, and so painful - owww!”
Georgian post box
Victorian post box
There’s the crunchy sound on the tape whenever I stop recording and start again. “I hope that when we listen back to this it isn’t just a litany of me complaining about how sore I am, and how achy I am, and which bits hurt, and why do we have to climb up a hill, and why is it raining, and why is it sunny, and why do I have to put sunscreen on, and why is it so hot, and why is the wind so cold. I hope it doesn’t sound like that, because it’s been quite nice, actually!” Crunch. “We went off track a bit. Thought we could get there along a dismantled railway line because it looked like a shortcut, but it just ended in nettle-y, brambly hell. Argh! So now we’re trying to find another way through, instead of backtracking and zigzagging through the fields. Which, probably, in retrospect would have been the more sensible option.” Crunch. “This was a crap decision.” We backtrack and zigzag along the proper rights of way.
solar farm
hay bales
The next hour passes in a blur. I’m so tired, I resort to reciting times tables under my breath. I can’t remember how we used to do it at primary school. Were the four times tables chanted as one-four-is-four, two-fours-are-eight, three-fours-are-twelve or four-ones-are-four, four-twos-are-eight, four-threes-are-twelve? I barely pay attention to our surroundings, so when we eventually stop in a lovely little wood, it feels like I’ve just woken up. I have no real recollection of taking off my boots or climbing in the tiny, cold stream - but by jingo, it’s nice! And never have apple puffs and a cup of less-than-hot tea tasted so good. I'm ready for my second wind.
tree and map and boots
field and woods
The pretty village of Ash Priors is drenched in golden sunlight. The mortar in the walls and buildings is a dusty pink, perhaps from the local soil. We chat to a man out with his dog. “I walked everywhere when I was younger, all over. Too old for it now. I stayed in Youth Hostels. They were everywhere. Cheap. Don’t suppose there’s many left.” He says he once knew someone from Battle, back in his army days. He is also convinced that there is some conspiracy amongst the traffic planners in Bognor Regis which makes it impossible for the average visitor to be able to get to the beach. I think of the coast, of Budleigh Salterton. Is it really only three days since we were there? It seems like weeks. Dan picks a piece of shell out of his shoe. When did it get there? Where did it come from? We leave it in a field, under the watchful gaze of five whistling, whirling buzzards, for some future geologist to puzzle over.
church tower landscape
When we arrive, footsore, at the B&B, our hosts lay out tea and cake and join us on the patio. It’s a gorgeous evening. House martins dart in and out of their nests under the eaves. We listen to the hoot of the steam train in the valley, and discuss everything from cloud spotting to commuting to cider.

5. Seven Ash to Watchet

It’s a grey day. From our room, we can see the hill we’ll be climbing first thing. It’s hard to conceptualise how high this hill is in comparison to more familiar hills when those familiar hills are not around for comparison. “Are the Quantocks higher than the South Downs?” I ask the dictaphone.
landscape vista
Yes.
view with sea
I come to this conclusion about three quarters of the way up, breathing heavily, sweating like a pig in the cool, muggy morning. It’s a great hike to get the blood pumping: up a steep track under twisty old oaks, then bursting out onto the high moor above the trees. To the south, beyond the Vale of Taunton Deane, some of the valleys are filled with low-lying cloud. To the north east, the River Parrett winds through a flat, grey landscape. We keep climbing. At our feet, yellow-flowered gorse and pink heather run downhill to pine plantations.
bristol channel
And suddenly, there is the Bristol Channel! The water shines silver, a couple of dark, capsule-shaped islands lending perspective. Somewhere beyond, Wales lurks in the cloud and smoky drizzle. At the trig point, we stop for more photos. (Check out Dan's Bubbli thing here!)
moorland and people on path
Two walkers come by and ask where we’re going. They are impressed that we’re aiming for Watchet. They’re even more impressed when they find out where we’ve come from. One of the satisfying things about being at the end of a long walk is that you’re almost guaranteed to get a reaction from the people you talk to. Today, it makes me consider not just how far we’ve come, but how small our local worlds really are. Fifty miles (eighty kilometres) by road is a significant distance, and the people we talk to on the Quantocks don’t seem to go down to the south coast very often. We brainstorm equivalents from our house: Arundel or Dover (we’ve been to both places, once apiece), Croydon (I’ve only ever seen it from the train window) or the Dartford crossing (we’re quite familiar with this!). Later, a dog walker asks us about OS maps. “Do they tell you where you can walk? I come up here all the time, but I wouldn’t mind going somewhere new. Oscar! Oscar! Come on!”
the drove
horse
We’ve seen barely any people out walking over the last few days, but now we’re back on a popular section of trail. The Macmillan Way, Somerset Way, Samaritans Way, Quantock Way and Celtic Way all run along the Quantocks for a while. I can’t blame the walk creators for sending people up here. It’s super ridge walking: high, but relatively gentle once you’re up, great views on each side, ponies and sheep grazing in the heather, little birds catching insects above the flowers, Bronze Age barrows and cairns strewn around the place. The Drove offers some shelter, wide path curving beneath spreading trees. I can imagine people herding their sheep or cattle along here.
bird and heather
We ignore it as long as possible, but there’s no denying it’s about to rain. I don’t enjoy shrugging into my coat, but I’m soon thankful I bothered. We descend Bicknoller Combe, a steep, V-shaped gully, in a downpour. The stream beside the path is vital with water, grass stoops under the weight of raindrops, wet sheep peer down at us and our view over the valley vanishes. Lower down, under the trees, I pull my hood down to listen to the shushing of rain on the leaves. Water, water, everywhere. At Bicknoller, the pub is closed, so we shelter in the church porch to eat some chocolate coated raisins.
down the hill
rain coat on
Following the waymarkers for the Coleridge and Macmillan Ways makes it easy to navigate along the valley, past signs to places like Stogumber, alongside the Doniford Stream, through friendly farmyards full of bantam chooks. The rain turns to drizzle and the steam trains pass by, sending up white plumes and hooting off towards Bishops Lydeard or Minehead. We take our coats off in suburban Williton and troop on through just a few more fields towards the end of our walk.
statue
coast
At Watchet the clouds are low and the tide is out. The Ancient Mariner stands, back to the harbour, dead albatross in one hand, bow dangling from the other, a noose around his neck leading to a noose around the bird’s neck. We walk along the harbour arm, past notices about entering the UK, over a thick yellow line with NO FISHING BEYOND THIS LINE painted on the concrete, past a sign about rabies prevention (animals that must not be brought ashore: duck, cat, dog, otter, gecko, monkey, kangaroo), to the little red lighthouse at the end.
no fishing
lighthouse
Funny how we’ve come to a quiet corner of the UK, but here at the end of the land - in this small harbour, in this channel - is the same sea, the same water that touches every coastal harbour, bay, cliff and beach in the world. I send thoughts out across the horizon to friends and family, wherever they may be.
pebbles in hands
my boots
“On three. One, two, three, go!” Our pebbles, from a sunny beach on the English Channel, sink quietly into the grey-brown murk of the Bristol Channel. We turn back and head to the pub for a drink.
sea

If you've made it to the end of this epic post, you deserve almost as many congratulations as us for making it to the end of our walk! If you're interested, you can check out our kit list and a route map here.

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