The Land of the Fairies - Litton Cheney to Askerswell circular - 11.2 miles, 25th November 2017

This may well be the longest walk I've done for the shortest return! By 'return' I mean how many new gridsquares I gained. It reminds me a little of my 14 mile walk on Islay for the sake of two miles of coastline which I needed to walk to 'join up the gap'. Except that this was a much easier walk and did not involve an overnight stay, otters, gamekeepers and free trout!

Jane was able to join us for the day and what a day it was; my absolutely favourite, the sort which continues to bless us now - cold, frosty, crisp, clear . . . My hips were still a bit achy from my dance, but I wasn't going to let that or anything else bother me today. We wanted to reccy this walk for a group walk in December. It is almost identical to one I did in August when I did bag some new gridsquares. This was a repeat with a small change so I won't include photos of all the gridsquares this time.

We parked on the road by the White Horse which extended the walk a few hundred yards as we walked back to the church with its backdrop of serenely blue sky.

St Mary's Church, Litton Cheney - SY5590

The same photo in the summer has more green, but less blue!

We walked the same route across fields to Long Bredy where we popped into the church for an early cup of tea and were briefly joined by some other ramblers who we discovered had walked down the bridleway on the east side of Long Barrow Hill. They didn't actually say ,"we walked down the bridleway on the east side of Long Barrow Hill." They said, "yes," when Paul asked them if they were the two figures he'd seen walking down that way. Then they said they'd walked past this church many times before, but had never been inside. We agreed it was a beautiful church, but I think it is lamentable that so many people, even walkers, do not pause to visit more historic sites, especially when they're right on their doorstep. I can afford to be smug here, of course, because I always do! "Why aren't we doing that?" Paul questioned when we were back outside. "Doing what?" I queried, "Walking round the other side of the hill," he muttered, craning his head as if to exaggerate his opinion that the other way was bound the better. Honestly, there's no pleasing some people! I promised him we would when we did this walk 'for real' with the group. I'm guilty of the same thing though, always imagining that the grass is greener on the other side; choosing to go down one route and then bemoaning the fact I haven't chosen the other route - a bit like Robert Frost's wonderful poem, The Road Not Taken.

St Peter's Church, Long Bredy - SY5790

There was no cattle in the fields this time as we ascended Long Barrow Hill, for which we were grateful as it is quite a slog up there. Last time I had to go via the more gradual route but my heart was still pounding with fear when I couldn't see the huge bull and wondered if he might just be abot to thunder across the field towards me!

We were walking more or less parallel to  Long Bredy Hut Lane which we'd driven down earlier without realising that was its name. I wonder how it got its name? I googled it, but couldn't find anything out. From here we could see the sea - always an exciting sight!

Shipton Hill from Long Barrow Hill - SY5790

We crossed the busy A35 and went straight down a bridleway, past tumuli and North Barn Farm. We were amused by the electronic gate opening system which invited you to 'Press to Open' but we guessed it was for vehicular use only and opted to use the pedestrian gate instead.

It's a pleasant walk along a farm lane to a crossroads here which threw me momentarily as there was a big digger parked at our crossroads. We managed to get round the digger and onto another path open to all traffic before reaching the minor 'yellow' road at which I'd decided we would turn left and then right to avoid walking up the long straight stretch of road I'd used last time.

This turned out to be a mistake as it was hard going walking through a huge field of flint and we thought it would be inappropriate to bring a large group here so next time we'll just have to put up with the road. The views are amazing though and I realised that, although SY5592 wasn't a new gridsquare for me, I'd somehow failed to get a photo of it last time, so I was going to bag two new squares on this visit. Yippee!

Haydon Down - SY5592

Walking across flinty fields at Haydon Down - SY5592

 We could see across acres of hills and valleys to Golden Cap and the glimmering sea beyond, marred only by that ubiquitous pylonic eyesore. In days of yore this would have been a marvel to behold.

Paul was getting hungry and a little grumpy (the two go together). We promised him an early lunch spot as soon as we could find somewhere suitable to sit. "Yonder barn is our next landmark," I whispered to Jane out of Paul's earshot. "I'm not sure we'll find anywhere out of the wind before then." By the time we reached said barn (Two Gates) we didn't care about being out of the wind; we just wanted our lunch so we chose  seat with a view (not difficult) and munched on cheese rolls and gulped hot tea.

From Two Gates - SY5493

Haydown Down near Two Gates - SY5492

Fortified, we stood up to move onwards, but not upwards, "we're heading downhill!" I cheered, leading the way confidently across the plateau of Haydon Down. It wasn't long before I realised my desire to go downhill had led us prematurely down the wrong side of the hill, or at least we were heading that way. Naturally I quickly realised and bumped us along further left, keen to remain on the bridleway. On the lee side of the hill we found a path which led all the way down to Stancombe Farm and beyond to Naller's Farm. We wondered at how anyone could live this far down in the valley. I'd commented on how, despite the feeling of remoteness here, we had been constantly ale to see and hear traffic throughout our walk thus far. The A35 is never far away, but unless you wanted to get to these farms you'd never know they were there and we wondered what the tracks were like in the winter. I imagine, perhaps wrongly, that folk that live in these farms lead solitary lives, deliberately choosing to be far away from other people, but I suspect I am wrong. I hazard to guess that mostly the farm has been passed down from one generation to the next and there has been little choice in the matter. In days of yore of course the huge acreage covered by just a few farms would have been divided up into many more fields belonging or tenanted by many more farmers. Such were the days of Corncrakes and Skylarks galore, sadly now either gone forever from these corners or in serious decline.

Lane to Stancombe Farm - SY5492

Stancombe Farm - SY492

Fencepost at Stancombe Farm - SY5492

Such was our discussion as we plodded down the lane, glad to now be on more even terra firma. A rustling and movement caught our attention as we walked into the farmyard and a man's head appeared behind some rusty machinery. "We didn't see you there," Jane laughed as we bade the farmer a good morning.  He bade us a silent greeting, almost imperceptibly nodding his head in our  direction, as if to confirm my suspicions that the residents here are self-elected recluses. We hurriedly glanced at the map to decided which footpath we needed to be on, feeling the glare of the farmer who probably wasn't used to seeing many walkers in his farmyard. One track leads south to the A35 which is obviously the most direct (and probably only) road to Stancombe Farm. "We're heading west," I declared, explaining that my route had an almost phallic appearance drawn out on the Ordnance Survey map and that we were 'now leaving the phallus', "but entering the new gridsquare," I said, injecting as much excitement as I possibly could into my voice in the hope of it brushing off onto my fellow walkers. They didn't seem as excited as I'd hoped, but then I'm used to that!

It took us a bit longer than necessary to get to Naller's Farm on account of all the interesting rusting machinery left lying about and the splendid examples of strip lynchets now languishing in November apricity, sadly redundant.

Walking towards Naller's Farm - SY5492

Strip lynchets at Naller's Farm - SY5492

Strip lynchets at Naller's Farm - SY5492

Rusty wheel at Naller's Farm - SY5492

Really, there is a lot to be seen and admired here and it is sad that probably very few feet wander this far into contour lines to do so. On guard duty at Naller's Farm were some rather scary stone creatures on the wall.

Gargoyle guards at Naller's Farm - SY5492

We then crossed a spring, a magical spring appearing from nowhere and disappearing into the hills, frequented no doubt by fairies and elfin creatures as we were evidently in their territory.

Fairy spring at Naller's Farm - SY5492

Here also be hedge layers and more relics of days gone by.

Hedge laying at Naller's Farm - SY5492

Left to rust - SY5492

We were now not far from Askerswell and passed fields with horses. I took photos of all of them in case one belonged to our friend who keeps her horse here. I tried calling its name but there was no response, although my call was a bit feeble as I was a little fearful of calling too loud in case Magic came galloping across the field towards us!

Horses at Askerswell - SY5392

My offer of another stop at Askerswell Church was rejected on the grounds of it getting late and we were only just going to make it back before dark as it was. So we plodded on through this delightful village, pausing only to ponder the logic behind a weird crossroads where one road abruptly ends.

Confusing junction at Askerswell - SY5392

 I couldn't resist photographing some skeletal trees and admired the inosculation between branches of one particular tree.

Inosculation at Askerswell - SY5392

Trees at Askerswell - SY5392

We now had to negotiate a little bit of bog and probably the most unpleasant part of the walk - a steep climb to the A35. "But it's quickly over," I promised as we headed towards the traffic's deafening roar. There is no lead up to this 'mare' (Paul's son's term for 'nightmare'); you puff and pant your way up several contours to meet the ugly grey crash barrier, teeter on the side of the hill whilst waiting for a break in the traffic sufficient to get you half way across and then stand tall with your high vis jacket on waiting to sprint across the second half of the death-defying A35. If that hasn't put you offf this walk, nothing will!

Immediately on the other side you are rewarded with more glorious views. You can now ascend if you wish to Chilcombe Hill Fort and don imaginary weaponry and clothing of Iron Age times. We didn't, being well and truly in the present moment, muddy step by muddy step and bramble by bramble as we squelched our way through the thickest mud of the walk yet. I reminded my companions that 'this was nothing' compared to the mud of my walk only two days before. Eventually I had to concede it was in fact 'something' and enough to warrant revising the route, albeit only ever so slightly, in order to avoid the mud.

From Chilcombe Hill - SY5292

Shipton Hill and tumuli - SY5292

Cloudscape over Shipton Hill - SY5291

Finding the road into the hamlet of Chilcombe, we marched on past a sign inviting visitors to 'please park here' although the rest of the sign is now illegible. Fairies at work again?

Please Park Here, Chilcombe - SY5291

We descended into civilisation and the 12th Century as we paused to enter diminutive Chilcombe Church, one of my favourites. Apparently it never was any bigger, the community never having either diminished or grown over the years, though the churchyard once extended more visibly.

Chilcombe Church - SY5491

 There are always free range hens strutting around here which are a delight to see and the churchyard gate is consequently always left open.

Free-range Chilcombe hen - SY5491

We continued now without stopping back to Litton Cheney, still admiring the views and marvelling at our wonderful walk. We opted to take the footpath to the pub across the fields which has probably been in use for hundreds of years. At the White Horse we joined the vociferous locals by the fire and raised a cup of tea in celebration of a fabulous walk.

Number of new gridsquares: 2

Number of miles:11.2

Number of churches: 4

Number of contours: innumerable

There is such a thing as too much mud! - Symondsbury to Salway Ash (broadly speaking) - 23rd November

There is such a thing as too much mud and too much dancing, whilst at the same time there is such a thing as not enough footpaths or signs. And, I discovered, one can definitely tire of walking through fields, even when one does lift one's head every few steps to discover when the mud has cleared from the eyes that there is a beautiful view after all. So here I go with a walk that I would not recommend is ever repeated in the history of time until Dorset Rights of Way have solved the seven issues which I raised with them.

I awoke to discover that my hips had definitely not recovered from the excessive amount of dancing I'd participated in the night before at the Skerryvore Concert. It was an excellent concert and when they encouraged would-be Strictly Come Dancing contestants to 'dance anywhere that was safe' in a bid to win a T-shirt, I made my way down to the front, having consumed the Dutch Courage of precisely one G and T. Paul's derriere remained glued to his seat; I've learned it's not worth trying to coax him. Hours later (well, maybe about ten minutes) I returned to my seat exhausted. At the interval I could barely move. I hadn't won the T-shirt and my hips were crying out in pain and continued to be like that for much of this walk. So bear that in mind all ye hundreds of readers as I will try not to go on about it too much hereafter!

I parked at Symondsbury and went to investigate the church.

St John the Baptist Church, Symondsbury - SY4493

Staircase in St John the Baptist Church, Symondsbury - SY4493

The church had an unusual staircase which perhaps leads to the bell tower, but one would need a ladder to access the staircase!

I proceeded eastwards and then turned north up Broadoak Road.

Broadoak Road, SY4494

Fortunately not a lot of traffic passed me until I reached my exit onto the Monarch's Way towards Bilshay Farm.

Monarch's Way near Symondsbury - SY4494

Probably the nicest thing about this otherwise quite disastrous walk was that Colmer's Hill stood out like a beacon throughout it all. I've never viewed it with quite such fondness as I did today. Just as I began to think the whole world was against me, lo and behold, there was Colmer's Hill beckoning me back to my starting point, keeping me grounded - most of the time quite squelchingly literally!

Friendly Colmer's Hill from the Monarch's Way - SY4494

Things started going wrong when I couldn't find the footpath to Glebe Withy Bed through the Ebb Plantation. I carried on along the Monarch's Way thinking I'd take the next turning northwards just before Bilshay Farm, and so phew, that one was solved quite easily, although there is a dearth of signage around leaving you wondering if you're on the right path despite having Memory Map on my phone which I was constantly referring to. I'll say now that this can be quite a hazard if you need two hands free to cling for dear life onto pathside branches or to avoid dropping said mobile into thigh deep mud. It was a necessary evil today, however, for reasons to which I've already alluded.

Relieved to be back on a path I took a photo of the gate leading into Glebe Withy Bed.

Towards Glebe Withy Bed - SY4495

Glebe Withy Bed and Ebb Plantation - SY4495

A lonely ruined barn called out for a photo just before exiting this square. I was probably at my happiest at this point, my hip pain was beginning to wear off, the sun was shining and I was on a definite footpath. My false sense of security did not last long.

Barn roof  at Glebe Withy Beds - SY4495

I bypassed Moorbath and, catching sight of the church at Broadoak decided to wait for my morning tea break. Then decided against it when I saw a fallen tree trunk in the field which made an ideal place to rest. I'm glad I did as my logic proved accurate - the church was locked and there was nowhere to sit. I would have become even more grumpy had I waited for another mile.

Fields near Broadoak - SY4395

Approaching Broadoak - SY4395

Footsteps surprised me as I approached the hamlet of Broadoak. Their four-hoofed owner came out to greet me and I stepped quickly into the horse's enclosure and back out onto the minor road which runs through this pretty hamlet. There, I used a complimentary adjective in my otherwise rather derogatory description of this walk and this rather delightful part of Dorset. (Oops, another compliment just slipped out!)

Red Cottage, Broadoak - SY4496

I walked beneath the pylons and entered the world of Broadoak at Red Cottage. I snapped a photo quickly as I was only going to be in this gridsquare for five minutes. Or so I thought. As it happened, I was in this gridsquare for about an hour of my life which I shall probably never forget but wish I could!

An elderly gentleman with a wheelbarrow full of firewood crossed the quiet road in front of me and looked my way quizzically. He was a bit too far away to bid him good morning, so I smiled and continued walking as he watched me. I imagine there's not too many walkers come this way.

Eager to reach the church I climbed the steps and turned the handle. Locked. Where was that little man with the firewood? Perhaps he knew who had the key. I bade good morning to some horse riders and then left the church behind me heading north to Filford.

St Paul's Church, Broadoak - SY4396

The hamlet of Broadoak from St Paul's Church - SY4396

This is where things began to go seriously wrong. I was fine on the lane which led to Filford Farm, well fine-ish. It was a pleasant lane and so what if the footpath left had disappeared? I was walking on a veritable lane and avoiding gratuitous mud! Yippee! An added bonus when I checked my phone was that I was entering a square I wouldn't otherwise have entered. Boy was this day getting better and I do believe my hips are loosening up a bit too! As it turned out, I'd already photographed the square once and would be in it for ages again - it was that same SY4496 again! Great lighting though!

When I thought I hadn't already photographed this square - SY4496

I photographed Filford Farm as I approached, looking for the marked footpath right. OK, so it wasn't there. Don't panic, walk towards the farm, be aware that there is probably going to be at the very least a mad dog to contend with if not a herd of cattle on their way to/from milking and, at worst, a bull amongst them. But keep your head up, Becky, things could be worse. It could be pouring with rain.

Filford Farm - SY4397

I manoeuvred through the farmyard without being hassled by man, dog, cow or bull. A white van slowed down as it approached the farm and I thought the driver might enquire as to my direction of travel as I'm pretty sure I looked quite helpless at this point, but he simply waved and smiled and I chose to follow him round the back of the farmhouse and hey, there's the path! OK, so there's not a sign and it looks as if it's not been walked in decades, but it's definitely a path.

I got a little confused at the end of the path and crossed the stream and then realised that, despite the lack of any signs, the path I wanted headed east. I had now reached my most northerly point. I headed east and followed the boundary of the field. A mad dog came out to greet me but his sprint was thwarted by the presence of a gate, which I was sure it could limbo under, but was relieved it didn't. No-one seemed to call it back. Glad I hadn't got to enter the dog's territory, I continued blithely on my way until I realised that I should have gone the dog's way after all. I needed to cross the stream and that was the only way to do so. No, surely I could find another way. I retraced my steps a couple of times struggling with indecision and reluctance to meet the dog face to face. Eventually I relented and returned to the dog scene, which was also the scene of an electric fence and no footpath sign. I made absolutely certain I was on the path before scrambling under the electric fence to the sound of the mad dog behind me and the owner calling it back. Perhaps the owner would come and say hello and let me know I was heading in the right direction? No such luck. Never mind, I was back in the saddle again, or at least on the footpath.

My exultation lasted for exactly 708 feet. I measured it on the map. That's how long I managed to plough through wet fields before I was thwarted again not just by an electric fence and barbed wire, which I scrambled underneath, but by a footpath so overgrown with brambles and thickets that there was absolutely no way I could access it. Confused, I checked, double and triple checked my phone and looked for an alternative route. There was none. The lane I was on led into the middle of a field and not towards Strongate Farm but there was absolutely no alternative. This was definitely the lowest point of the walk, but one simply can't sit down and cry, one because there's nowhere to sit down unless you don't mind sitting in cow dung and puddles and two because that would just delay you even further.

I tight-roped walked between the electric fence and the cow dung until I reached the end of the lane and my suspicions were confirmed. I was in the middle of a field with not a soul in sight and surrounded by several exits, all of which were inches deep in either water, mud or slurry or a combination of all three and bordered by brambles and blackthorn. Tentatively I put my foot forward and sank in several inches of  delightful squelchy stuff. "Not that way then," I said aloud. I was saying a lot of things aloud at this point, in fact throughout the walk. Not all bad by the way, sometimes I was praying too.

Realising I needed to head left I continued to look for an exit route but there was a stream between me and the path I wanted to be on and there was no way I was retracing my steps and there was no way I was going through the squelchy stuff, so I had to plod on in the full knowledge that I wasn't on a footpath, but at least I was in a field and I could see wonderful Colmer's Hill looking not too distant ahead of me.

Eventually I realised I could walk to Bidlake Farm and join a footpath there. Please God may there be a footpath there. I really didn't know what I'd do if there wasn't. Thankfully there was with a little bridge spanning the little stream. I was tempted to sit with my lunch here after the ordeal I'd been through, but didn't like stopping in full view of the farm and wanted to put some more distance between myself and the ordeal. Now I was on a footpath I was positively floating with the joy of it all. Oops, mustn't forget a photo, surely I'm out of SY4496 now! Would you believe it, I wasn't! I still took a photo though, for memory's sake!

Bidlake Farm - SY4496

In all my confusion, I'd spotted a church on a hill and for a moment thought I'd walked further than  I had and that I was looking back at St Paul's in Broadoak as I wasn't aware of any other churches nearby. Perhaps there was one at Salway Ash after all? I thought I'd scrutinised the map and decided there wasn't. When I got home and researched it, I discovered there is in fact a church here. So that's another one I need to return to. I won't be in a rush to do that!

Thankful to be on a footpath I debated with myself whether I should go to the village of Salway Ash and look for the church I had seen. It meant a bit of gratuitous walking, but I decided I'd do it. When I reached Hill Farm, however and couldn't get through the gate because of the trailer parked so close on the other side I all but gave up. But no, there shouldn't be a trailer parked by a footpath, I'd force my way through. Which I did, turned the corner and saw a hill ahead of me. Which is when I lost the will to go on and turned back without so much as a moment's deliberation. Back past that trailer and down the hill where I stopped to take in the view and gaze longingly at Colmer's Hill which still seemed a long way off.

Hill Farm and the barred gate - SY4596

South from Hill Farm - SY4596

Colmer's Hill in the distance - SY4596

 I determined  I would have my lunch as soon as I'd got past Broadenham Farm. Never sit for lunch when there's a uphill climb immediately afterwards. It's always better to climb the hill  and then sit for lunch. As I reached the top of the hill, however, I also turned southwards and straight into the wind. Never mind, I was on a footpath, oh joy! And the views were amazing, so I sat on the grass and wished Matthew a happy birthday on Facebook and relished my delicious lunch before getting up and starting all over again with the stiff feeling and pain. Now I know how Paul feels every time he goes for one of my long walks!

I reached the minor road and turned left and then right to Colly Farm where a lovely Shepherd's Hut/Romany Gypsy caravan took my eye. Colly Farm offers bed and breakfast and is situated in a lovely location above the River Simene.

Shepherd's Hut at Colly Farm - SY4595

Colly Farm - SY4595

At last I was back in the world of footpath signs and a flock of sheep greeted me as I entered their world and walked joyously through a relatively unmuddy field towards Bilshay Farm.

The Simene Valley at Colly Farm - SY4595

Sheep at Colly Farm - SY4595

Lovely old gate fastener at Colly Farm - SY4595

Bilshay Farm - SY4594

At Bilshay Farm I enquired of the farmer as to the whereabouts of the footpath as, once again it wasn't signed. He was friendly enough and pointed me in the right direction, saying I could go either way to reach the road. I couldn't work that out at the time, but did once I emerged on said road. I was back on the Monarch's Way, albeit briefly before I turned off towards Waddon Barn.

Waddon Barn - SY4594

I walked round the perimeter of perhaps the biggest field of turnips I've ever seen, complete with sheep munching their way happily through them.

Sheep and turnips at Waddon Barn - SY4594

I knew I was on the homeward stretch now but didn't dare look at the map to discover how far I'd still got to go. I made myself only look to check I was heading in the right direction. I just couldn't have borne any more disasters at this stage. For reassurance I glanced towards Colmers Hill, now just west of me.

Colmer's Hill from Allington - SY4594

The holloway leading into Allington deserved some more lingering time, but I was too weary. I celebrated two particular trees however which seemed to be reaching out to each other across the path.

Holloway and two trees at Allington - SY4593

My southwards journey over, I headed west, entering Allington Hill nature reserve. I'd looked at this on the map many times before and wanted to go. It wasn't the best time of year and I was tired and not in the best frame of mind to explore, so I saw little as I plodded onwards.

Allington Hill Nature Reserve - SY4593

It was still not plain sailing as I crossed another large field towards Symondsbury, walked past the sheepwash again and got back to my car just before the school came out. I'd arrived this morning to the energetic sounds of school children in the school yard. Could that really only have been this morning? It felt like a lifetime of mud and water away! If  I didn't hurry now I'd get stuck in the school traffic. Without further ado or reflection I hurriedly changed out of my dirty boots and slipped on my trainers and made my escape into the sunset.

Number of times I wish I'd never started this walk: Innumerable
Number of miles walked : 9.5
Number of new gridsquares: 11
Number of times I photographed the same gridsquare unknowingly: 3
Number of footpath faults reported to Dorset Rights of Way Team: 7