Piddletrenthide to Lyscombe

My brand new (published 2016) More Secret Places of Dorset book recommends visiting the secluded Lyscombe Chapel 'in the early morning or evening for a heady dose of atmosphere.' Should I really be advertising on the internet a place that rejoices in the epithet of 'secret'? Well, given that only 7 people read my last post, I don't think I need worry too much! (Sadly)

My book also assumes one will be arriving by car - what a ludicrous suggestion to someone who is attempting foot by foot to photograph every Dorset gridsquare! So I painstakingly worked out an approximately 10 mile route which just touched the red route of my previous Bulbarrow Hill walk - well, it's so satisfying to see all these red routes on the Ordnance Survey 'joining hands' across the gridsquares.

My route started in Piddletrenthide, partly for convenience of parking and partly for the sheer joy of starting from somewhere which delights in a name like Piddletrenthide. My attempts to start walking before 9 am were thwarted however by 1) icy roads, 2) taking a wrong turning in the village (due to my stubborn refusal to use the Garmin sat nav 3) road blockage by an oil tanker. The latter was filling a property's oil tank and taking up the whole road. The frustrating thing about it was that I had shunned one parking spot because I decided it would be best to park at the church. Unbeknownst to me I had missed the church car park and had just decided I would turn round when I came upon the tanker. With one car in front of me and a car and a digger behind I was blocked in. "I only want to drive a few more yards," I protested to the driver in front when I'd got out of the car to see if they knew how long it would be before traffic flowed again. My protests were in vain, not that he could have done anything about the tanker, but it sounded like he wouldn't have done anything anyway, because he started to engage in an argument with a fellow driver about who should reverse back to allow the tanker to pass.

When I finally parked (outside Mr Angry's house - with his permission), I listened to him relate the tale of the tanker to his wife whilst I donned my gaiters (unusually for me) and boots. How I wish I could do a Mr Benn and just stand there with arms slightly outstretched and watch all the appropriate clothing attach itself to me within seconds!

I marched off triumphantly at 9.52 am, about 50 minutes later than I'd wanted to. I had everything marked on both GPS and phone. It was so exciting. And what a glorious day. Yes, I would revel in the day's apricity and not reinforce those negative thoughts of exasperation by giving them anymore room in my brain. "Be gone, negativity!" I exhorted my mind - and it was, just like that! Well, sort of!

Piddletrenthide - (ST 70 00)

I climbed my first hill out of Piddletrenthide, which I guess is East Hill, although it seems to stretch northwards really, pausing to take another photo of my first gridsquare of the day with a view back to Piddletrenthide.

Piddletrenthide - (ST 70 01)

I wiggled my way across the fielded summit of East Hill and then descended to Plush via some unmarked strip lynchets. (Having seen quite a few of these now, I feel I'm something of an expert on identifying them - although, to be honest, it'd be hard not to be an expert on it.) This took me into gridsquare number 2 and I was delighted to find (yes really) that my view of the village and the village itself lay within the same gridsquare. Yippee! A photo was in order and duly taken before my descent into the village where a master thatcher was at work on the roof of a thatched cottage (where else?)

East Hill, Piddletrenthide (ST 70 01)

Nettlecombe Tout from West Hill (ST 70 01)

The Old Schoolhouse, Plush (ST 71 02)

Plush Church (ST 71 02)

After a brief coffee stop at the church, I started my ascent of Plush Hill which is adorned with a water tank which apparently once had an Ordnance Survey benchmark on it, but which apparently no longer does - not one I could find at any rate (if I haven't already mentioned my obsession with benchmarks, what can I say except it makes walking even more interesting!) I was onto my fourth gridsquare already and the day was young. I'd almost forgotten that my chosen footpath took me straight to a trigpoint as well - until I saw it in the distance. That was square number 5. By now the apricity was so great that I had to stop to take off my fleece and hat. The views from Higher Hill (where the trigpoint was) are fantastic all round. I couldn't really get a handle on what I was looking at, but who cares! The sun was shining, the Buzzards were riding the thermals and I was happy. I'd photographed five gridsquares. Yippee!!

At this point I was walking along the ridge of Higher Hill, so no uphill slog, just wonderful views of the valley and surrounding hills - and several cross dykes, a feature I'm not quite as confident about identifying as strip lynchets, but which Wikipedia informs me are  prehistoric land boundaries - now that is surely something to get excited about - in my book anyway!

Cross dyke on Higher Hill (ST 72 02)

View west along the ridge of  Higher Hill (ST 73 02)

Higher Hill trigpoint (ST 72 02)

It wasn't long before I had to make the first of several decisions that day. Do I continue on my originally planned route and risk being late for our house viewing appointment at 4.30 pm or do I take the shortcut and miss out on Nettlecombe Tout? I decided it would just be too much of a sacrifice to miss out on Nettlecombe Tout. After all, I'd deliberately planned my route to include this intriguingly named massif. And it meant more gridsquares :)

Fortunately I did not have to climb the 258 metres of its height as the footpath circumnavigates the ancient fort. I have since discovered that the fort looks a lot more inspiring upon approach than it does from its foot and is probably worth another look.

Nettlecombe Tout from the west. (ST 73 03)

Having circumnavigated the Tout, I had another decision to make. I was keen to join up with the route of my previous walk in the area, but was conscious of the time. I hate having time restrictions when I'm out walking and it is unusual for me to be bound by one, but this time I decided I had better miss out the joining up bit and take a shorter route instead. I did happen upon what I discovered is the Dorsetshire Gap - an intersection of five ancient trackways. I was disappointed to discover that I had missed the Visitors' Book. All things to go back for. But with over 2500 gridsquares still to do, I don't have time to revisit any of them!

Signpost at the Dorsetshire Gap (ST 74 03)

Victim of a storm near Nettlecombe Tout (ST 73 03)

I continued up to the southern summit of Nettlecombe Tout (but didn't realise that until later) and happened upon an unusual building which seemed to serve no other purpose than be a place to put footpath signs on.

I passed more cross dykes on my way down to Lyscombe Chapel. I was making myself wait until Lyscombe Chapel for lunch, despite feeling hungry. I was conscious of the time  and knew I'd want to stop and take photos of this allegedly haunted chapel so there was no point having another stop before then to have lunch.

Cross dyke near Higher Melcombe (ST 74 02)

Funny building for purpose of putting footpath signs on? (ST73 02)

Sheep at Higher Melcombe (ST 73 02)

I wandered down Hog Hill and paused to take in the beauty which is Lyscombe Bottom - an ampitheatre of green (with noticeably no cows).

Hog Hill (ST74 01)

Lyscombe Bottom (ST 73 01)

Now for my first glance of the chapel. I was reminded of when I first cast eyes on Tigh na Speur on Islay (Sky cottage for non-Gaelic speakers). After hours of wading knee deep through bracken and heather, crossing featureless, pathless, spaghnum moss and peat, adorned with Round-leaved Sundew and Butterwort, I looked across a criss-crossed blanket peat bog and viewed a miniature heaven. OK, so there was no spaghnum, sundew, peat, bracken or heather and there was a plethora of paths on this occasion, but otherwise it was - well nothing like it really, I suppose, except that inside I anticipated it in the same way that I'd anticipated my first sight of that delightful little Scottish ruin.

I have to admit it wasn't the 'Wow' moment that I'd known when I saw Tigh na Speur,  more a sort of an 'Is that it?' moment. However, there was a bench and Snowdrops and so I paused and relished my cheese and onion pasty in the apricity (yes I know I've used that word three times; when you learn a delicious new word like that you just have to take every opportunity to use it - it means 'the warmth of the winter sun', in case you're wondering).

It was here that I realised I'd lost my hat and also that I didn't really have enough time (or energy) to retraces miles of steps to find it. I'd had to swap my lovely Arran bobble hat for my sun hat because there was just no cloud to ward off the brow-beating sun (a terrible problem, I know). When I saw another walker approach I started garnering courage to ask if they had espied a black bobble hat, but they vanished into thin air in a ghost-like fashion before I had chance to say 'Good Afternoon'. 

Lunch eaten, I went to explore. Now, I wish I'd had more courage to try the door of what I assumed was a holiday cottage next to what I assumed was the ruinous chapel. When I got back home and returned to my 'Secret West Dorset' book, I read with mounting frustration that the thatched and intact building was in fact the chapel and that the building I'd taken lots of photos of was simply a ruined cottage (albeit a fascinating one). Well, I had several things to return for so that was just an additional one - and the finding of my hat being the biggest one so far.

The chapel dates from the 12th century and was part of the endowment of Milton Abbey, which is located a few miles eastwards. In the 17th century it is thought that the chapel became a dwelling. The ruined cottage next to the chapel was the Bishop's Cottage. It is altogether a most delightful place. At the time of my visit there was an empty music stand in the Bishop's Cottage which looked rather forlorn. I'll bring some sheet music for it next time.

The delightful Lyscombe Chapel and cottage (ST 73 01)

Lyscombe Cottage (with upper storey fireplace intact) (ST 73 01)

I now had to put the double shuffle on as my mum would say. There was one more shortcut I could take at Whitcombe Barn. I wandered round a potato field trying to find the way which would be least damaging to the crops under my now heavy feet. I don't think I succeeded, but I reached the road and a welcome veritable track to Whitcombe Barn - and my shortcut. Something exciting (cartographically) happens at Whitcombe Barn. Bear with me on this. The first two letters of the Ordnance Survey British grid reference change from ST to SY (the pair of letters represent 100 km square).  I'm not exactly sure how it all works, but I find it exciting and I just know you're buzzing too!

Fields near Thorncombe Farm (ST 72 00)

Whitcombe Barn (SY 72 99)

I committed a bit of a crime here in digressing from the footpath in order to take my short cut (but don't worry, I only missed out on one gridsquare as a result). Then ensued a bit of a boring slog through arable fields back to Piddletrenthide. Here I came across several dog walkers - a sure sign that you are within a stone's throw of civilisation. I took the requisite photo for my penultimate square along this rather boring track (I might just have been tired at this point so forgive me if you hail from Piddletrenthide and walk along Tallon's Lane regularly).

Tallon's Lane (SY71 99)

I was back in civilisation again after just over five hours. I raced back to my car, just pausing long enough to take my final photo and then sped swiftly home, knowing that if I hadn't had time to reflect on my walk then, I would certainly be able to do so later when writing my blog!

Chestnut Cottage, Piddletrenthide (SY70 99)

Length of walk: 10.9 miles (including about half a mile retracing steps in futile search for lost hat)

Gridsquares covered: 17 (that might be a record!)