Motorways, war wounds and mud - Hardy's Cottage to Piddlehinton

 

"It'll be a boring walk through muddy fields and all I know is we'll start at Hardy's Cottage and walk north for as far as we like." Or words to that effect - that's how I'd enticed Jane to accompany me on what was to prove the muddiest walk of the year so far. Then I had to borrow money to pay the car park fee. A word of advice - in the unlikely event that anyone will actually want to repeat this walk - make sure you take change for the car park (£3 all day). I took my car park ticket and laughed - "Well, we've only got till 5 pm, Jane. Then they lock the gates!"

With the map spread out on one of the picnic tables at the Visitor Centre, we planned our route, realising that although we were bound to be back before 5 pm, we were unlikely to make it back to the Visitor Centre for closing time at 3 pm. "No tea and cake," then I said reluctantly, "we'd better get going.

Thomas Hardy's Cottage, Higher Bockhampton - SY7292

Hardy's Cottage is a delightful place to visit, but maybe only if you're as avid a Thomas Hardy fan as I am One of my dream jobs would be to work as a Visitor Experience member or whatever name they now give to tour guides. Several times I've been tempted to apply for this type of job and have only been put off by the fact that the wages would mean I'd probably be out of pocket by the time I'd deducted fuel costs!

The one thing that worked in our favour today was the weather. I'd almost emailed Jane to suggest tea and cake in Dorchester instead after viewing the forecast this morning,but it turned out to be one of those most wonderful surprises when the weather in reality is much better than the weather predicted. OK, so we had hail, rain, sun, rainbow and wind in the 24 hours we were out. Did I say 24 hours? I mean 7.

We walked past Hardy's Cottage into Puddletown Forest as Jane told stories of how she'd got lost in this forest in a maze of paths. There is a plethora of paths in this forest, as well as tumuli, swallet holes and pits; it is easy to get lost or vanish forever more into the swampy understorey or it would be if you didn't have the wonders of modern technology. I scrutinised my phone to make sure we took the right turning and to ensure I didn't miss a gridsquare. "We're only in it for five minutes," I explained. I'm sure Jane is getting used to my interrupting her mid-sentence just so I can take a photo. I hate having to do it and always try to go back to the conversation to show that it's not that I'm not interested, just I don't want to miss the photo opportunity of a muddy footpath!

Crossroads of footpaths, Puddletown Forest - SY7392

I just managed to snap the award-winning photo before another walker appeared and bade us good morning, commenting on the glorious weather. It was the last person we were to see on foot for a while.

"So, how do we cross the A35?" Jane ventured to ask as we wandered towards the roar of the traffic. "Sorry, didn't hear you," I shouted above the din, snapping the requisite photo for the square. "We are only in this square for three minutes," I laughed. Really, truly, why do people put up with me!?

Footpath in Puddletown Forest - SY7293

"I've checked the map and there's a footpath both sides of the road," I reassured Jane as we ambled side by muddy side drawing closer to the source of the constant noise. Jane remained unconvinced. "I know there's a tunnel further up and a bridge further down,but I don't know how you cross here," she continued to voice her concerns. With good reason it turned out. It also turned out that we were going to be in SY7293 for a lot longer than I thought.

We arrived at the busy dual carriage way to discover no tunnel, no bridge a million cars a minute going by and crash barriers preventing all but the suicidal from considering playing chicken. This is when I wish I'd checked Google map beforehand. Ever the sensible one (I was all for playing chicken), Jane insisted we walk back to the bridge. This makes her sound bossy; she isn't and wasn't - just a lot more safety conscious than I am. And now I'm still alive to thank her for it.

We walked along the re-rooted 'footpath', incredulous at the appearance of a footpath sign which has managed to stay put on a perilous muddy slope above a four-lane highway/motorway/two lane dual carriage way.

Perilous slope and footpath on A35 - SY7293 (bridge that we crossed just out of sight)

Conscious that this detour was going to add another mile on to an already long walk, we pushed forward swiftly and then thwang! A branch bounced back into my face, thankfully missing my eye. It hurt like crazy, but I kept going, hardy soul that I am, blood gushing from my wound.

"It's easier walking down here on the verge," I announced to Jane, keen to escape any more rebounding branches. Jane made her way down to join me. "You're bleeding," she noticed. Despite the significant loss of blood, I hadn't noticed. OK, so I might just be exaggerating; it was possibly just a dribble. "A branch hit me," I explained, dabbing my wounds with a snotty tissue.

We were glad to reach the bridge and be finally out of SY7293. We walked along the minor road back to where the footpath should have been. There was only a faint sign of a track leading down form another perilous slope below the busy road. "There's one to report," we agreed.

Former footpath beneath A35 - SY7393

I made that photograph do for that gridsquare as I completely forgot to take another photo; I was so traumatised by my war wound and by the fact we had been walking for over an hour and I didn't feel we had yet begun our walk. Some wonderful tree roots helped calm me down as we wandered into Yellowham Woods.

Tree roots in Yellowham Woods - SY7393

We past the Keeper's Lodge and emerged at the crossroads between the local Ridgeway and Gaddy's Lane.

Joining the Ridgeway - SY7394

Thankfully we were joining the Ridgeway and it looked less muddy!

Ridgeway - SY7394

We were grateful for the lack of mud on this footpath and to finally be able to make good progress, unhindered by uncertainty, traffic and branch weapons. We continued on the Ridgeway for about a mile before crossing Slyer's Lane (B3143) at Waterston Ridge.

Ridgeway - SY7294

My photograph for this gridsquare was a conveniently placed trigpoint, just on the other side of the hedge and under the grip of ivy.

Ridgeway trigpoint - SY7194

Our spirits were lifting, aided by the views and the glorious sunshine.

View west on Waterston Ridge - SY7094

We passed a huge farm building and storage tank with a possible slurry store. It looked more like a hangar than a barn.

Huge barn on Waterston Ridge - SY7094

We continued on the Ridgeway until we reached a T junction, at which point we turned northwards.

T-junction on Waterston Ridgeway - SY6994

I was beginning to think about lunch now; if truth be told, I'd been thinking about it for quite some time. If all had gone well at the beginning of our walk I think we'd have stopped for a coffee break before now, but we were reluctant to do so on the grounds that we were worried about being lock in a car park in the middle of the woods all night.

We'd already decided we'd do the extra mile to Piddlehinton and back, which meant we were aiming to have lunch in the church there - always a useful lunch spot. This just meant walking through a few boring and muddy fields beforehand.

Farmland, Piddlehinton - SY6995

 A visible tumulus provided a feature of interest as we walked into SY7095. Yhere are lots of tumuli marked on the map, including a specific one named Robin's Barrow, but few of them are visible from the footpaths or bridleways.

Tumulus on Little Puddle Hill - SY7095

Bridleway, Little Puddle Hill - SY7095

Barn and bridleway, Little Puddle Hill - SY7095

 I was just chuckled about the fact we were walking along Little Puddle Hill and Little Piddle Down - there's something so endearing and comical about these names,even if, in reality, Common Lane might be a more appropriate name. Little Puddle Farm was a bit more exciting, as were the earthworks we happened upon as we turned gratuitously north.

Little Puddle Farm - SY7196

Tree/hedge at Little Puddle Farm - SY7196

Earthworks at Little Puddle Farm - SY7196

Apparently the boundary between Piddlehinton and Little Puddle once ran right through these earthworks which cover 32 acres of ground and which represented the settlements of Little Puddle and Combe Deverel. Traces of a chapel at Little Puddle have been detected, dating to the 14th Century, but there is no visible evidence to the untrained eye.

I found a good website about Piddlehinton, full of history about the area. One interesting anecdote was that a former farmer at Little Puddle, Henry George Mayo used to live at Corton and ride from there to Little Puddle on horseback, always wearing his bowler hat. He farmed Little Puddle until 1941.

Henry George Mayo and hisbowler hat at Little Puddle Farm - SY7196 (Photo credit: http://www.piddlevalley.info/history/piddlehinton/sop/piddlehinton_chap2.php)

We followed a local footpath to the B3143 and St Mary's Church, where we collapsed in a heap and delved into our rucksacks. At least I did.

"I am going to look round," I said between mouthfuls as Jane thoughtfully wandered round, pondering the existence of only one stained glass window in the church. "I've just got to eat first!" We actually never did find out why this church only has one stained glass window. Were they short of cash?

We'd just finished our lunch when a lady popped her head round the door and we bade her good afternoon. She was apparently checking that the church had been left in good fettle after the bell-ringing session and enquired as to whether we were bell ringers. We assured her that had we known of the bell ringing session we would have raced round quicker to get here on time, but, sadly, no, we were not bell ringers - and never likely to be, despite my harbouring a secret desire to pull a bell rope and alert the village to danger.

Feeling recuperated, we looked round a bit more and then went out to look for the grave of Ann Wizner, which I'd started to read about on the way in, before hunger got the better of me.

St Mary's Church, Piddlehinton - SY7197

Ann Wizner's grave, st Mary's churchyard, Piddlehinton - SY7197

I remembered having read about this brave heroine of the Battle of Waterloo some time ago, but had forgotten that she was buried here. She died in 1873 aged 82 at which time she was a resident of this parish. Born Ann Keates in Fordington, Dorchester in 1791, she married James Winzer and acted as a nurse to the wounded at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815, about 40 years before Florence Nightingale's famous days pioneering the nursing of the sick and wounded in the Crimean War. Ann came to live in Piddlehinton after her nursing days with the army were over. Her husband, James Winzer, must have seen military service, probably overseas, for he was one of the many Chelsea Pensioners who did not live at the Royal Hospital, Chelsea. Colonel Astell of West Lodge, Piddlehinton took steps to ensure that Ann got a pension in recognition of the service to the army.

Ann’s feats are recorded on her impressive headstone, which was apparently paid for by a group of army officers, notably Lt Col Charles Astell JP who lived at nearby West Lodge and had petitioned for Ann to receive a military pension in her own right in recognition of her services. Ann's husband, James died 18 months later.

We walked back through the attractive village of Piddlehinton, pausing to read a notice about weight limits on a bridge over the River Piddle.

The River Piddle, Piddlehinton - SY7197

Notice on bridge over River Piddle, Piddlehinton - SY7197

Tentatively we turned  left onto a bridleway through someone's garden when two dogs, a collie and a Jack Russell alerted their owner to our presence."Hello," I called out whilst gently kicking the snarling Jack Russell whose claws were digging into my thin-trousered legs. "I'm not sure if that's claws or teeth," I winced, trying not to throw the yelping fiend into the tempting bales of hay on the other side of the farmyard and held back only by the sound of approaching human footsteps. "Are we on the footpath?" we asked as a woman appeared and thankfully called her beasts to heel. "Yes, yes," it's perfectly well signposted," she insisted throwing a free arm in the direction from which she'd just come. "There'll be horses!" she added as we thanked her and headed off into the unknown horse-ridden path.

"She's only trying to put us off," Jane said as we found ourselves in a field of horses. "She doesn't realise how intrepid we are!"We navigated our way back to Little Puddle Farm, took a wrong turn, quickly realised it and corrected it and ended up in a vineyard - of sorts. It was a definite eyesore and some distant workers appeared to be trying to salvage some rather non-existent looking shoots. Maybe it will look OK when they've grown a bit more, but at the moment it looks more like a plastic farm than a vineyard or orchard.

Vineyard? Piddlehinton - SY7195

"I know we haven't been in this field before," Jane laughed as we wearily went through a gate into yet another muddy field, "but I'm sure I've seen that blade of grass before!" It was true. Our walk had been dominated by huge, muddy fields where the footpath, shown on the map as going right across the field, has by necessity been diverted to go right round the field. This, of course, lengthens the walk and, as Jane pointed out, for those on horseback an extension to the walk might not be a bad thing,but when you've walked through umpteen fields which all look the same, you really just want to get out of there as quickly as possible and not have to walk round the perimeter yet again. So there may have been a couple of occasions when we strictly followed the footpath/bridleway across the field.

We were now retracing our steps in dimming light and hail showers to Waterston Ridge where we took the footpath south. Jane had been on this footpath many years before and remembered how muddy it was. We felt sorry for a herd of cows swamped in mud with very little food. They looked so thin and sorry for themselves. I didn't think they'd have the energy to chase us even if they tried.

This was the worst mud we'd encountered yet. A couple of times I thought I was going to lift my foot and find my boot wedged in the mud. We squealed and squelched our way round the field, bidding the poor cows a kindly greeting and continued on our way to Higher Kingston Farm.

When the mud got better, near Higher Kingston Farm - SY7193

Higher Kingston Farm - SY7193

At Little Cheam a flood across the road gave us the chance to wash our boots.

Little Cheam - SY7192

Now all we had to do was run the gauntlet of the busy A35 again, thankfully this time just a single carriageway. Then we'd be on the homeward track. Crossing the road took some doing but we were soonon Ice or East Hill where some students from Kingston Maurward were doing some hedgelaying and a rainbow appeared to herald our arrival at our journey's end.

Rainbow and shadows, Ice Hill - SY7192

We got back to our cars at 1621 and were not the last to leave the car park by a long way.

"Thanks for a great walk," I said trying to remove my muddy boots without getting my hands covered in a variety of colours and textures of mud. Jane's gaiters had saved her boots considerably. I really must get back into the habit of wearing gaiters.  We parted company with me reassuring Jane that this was not a walk I intended EVER repeating, "although I did like the church and the Ridgeway, so . . ."

Number of new gridsquares: 13
Number of miles walked: 12.8
Number of gratuitous miles: 2
Number of war wounds: 2

Friary in the Fog - Hermitage and Hilfield - 12th January

I'd spent the whole day indoors yesterday fighting off a cold virus so was going to get out today come hell or high water or, as it happened, fog. So, what's a bit of fog when you're driving down the A37? Who's going to let that bother them? At least it's not raining, and not in the least little bit creepy. This was my internal conversation as I pulled into the Hendover Coppice Car Park, being the only car there amongst a forest of creaking, skeletal, trees which didn't look the least bit menacing.

"Well, I've driven this far," I argued with myself as I pulled on my boots, "so I'm going to go, even if all my photographs are of fog."

My first one certainly was, but it didn't matter because I'd already photographed ST6304 on a much nicer day.

Ramshorn Hill - ST6304

Hendover Coppice - ST6304 (01/07/2016)

I had to confess that I was getting weary of trudging through mud. Scotland might be bleak in the winter, but I don't remember there being so much mud. Probably because it wasn't so arable on Islay; there's a lot more coastal land and you're seldom walking through farmland whereas it is commonplace down here.

I ploughed my way through the soggy field, emerging at Telegraph Hill where I crossed the road and snapped a photo of the junction, a contender for my worst photo ever.

Telegraph Hill - ST6404

I walked down Telegraph Hill and Little Coppice in a fog, reliving my previous visit here, knowing I was going to happen upon a trigpoint in a field full of cows which would be inaccessible.

Penn Wood - a desolate view - ST6405

On a nicer day - view north from the same spot - ST6405

There were no cows and I could see the trigpoint, but didn't pluck up enough courage to wander into the field without permission. I'd save it for another day - although I can't think I'll be rushing back to do this walk!

I turned onto a footpath to Hartley Manor Farm and recalled being chased by cows here on my last visit. My track from that walk in June 2015 shows several deviations from the footpath in attempts to avoid frisky cows!

Hartley Manor Farm - ST6406

Part of my track from my walk in June 2015 when I had to make several detours to avoid cows!

I walked down the lane this time, but wish now I'd gone through Prince's Wood to try to find the Lady Well. I did attempt it from the church, but couldn't find it and wonder whether a different angle might have made it easier to find. If I can't find it in the winter, there's no hope later in the year with the growth of foliage.

It was worth my attempt to find the well if only because it meant entering another gridsquare (how easily pleased am I?)

Entrance to Prince's Wood - ST6506

The first time I approached St Mary's Church I thought I was wandering through someone's garden. I've got slightly more used to that two years on, but it still feels slightly like I'm trespassing and I was glad to get into the church grounds and revisit this delightful little church which was used to harbour paintings from Bournemouth Art Gallery during the SecondWorld War.

St Mary's Church, Hermitage (June 2015) - ST6406

Interior of St Mary's Church, Hermitage. The picture on the left is the one donated by Bournemouth Art Gallery as a thank you to the church for guarding some valuable paintings during the Second World War.

Another interesting fact about this church is the unusual memorial to Elizabeth Collyar which has an engraving of the family emblem of three bats! Now Paul would like that!

The family emblem of Elizabeth Collyar on her memorial in St Mary's Church, Hermitage - ST6406

I gulped a quick cup of tea here before venturing into another gridsquare just for the sake of it.

Bartlett's Corner, Hermitage - ST6407

I then walked up the road past one of those attractive telephone box libraries (that's three I've seen in Dorset now).

Telephone box library, Hermitage - ST6406

 Shortly after this I turned onto a footpath heading south-west towards Pond Farm. I'm sorry there's nothing exciting to say about these footpaths; they were just muddy on a gargantuan scale and not worth repeating. I was glad to catch a misty glimpse of Pond Farm just to see something other than mud!

Pond Farm in the mist - ST6306

I wasn't even bumping into anybody today. My spirits were as soggy as the ground I was walking on and I began my soliloquy about why I habitually do this - slog my way through mud in solitude with the sole aim of seeking out single gridsquares. Honestly woman, you're mad! You'ven ot even got much to say about it when you're done!

My soliloquy over (for the time being) I was glad to reach solid ground and stamp my way to Hilfield Church. "This is going to be good," I told myself as I allowed myself one more check of the map and then vowed to put it away and not look at it again until I'd reached the church. "You don't need to," I reassured my arguing self. "You're only doing it out of boredom." Valid point. I was; there were no birds to look at, the muse wasn't appearing for poetry, my soliloquy was getting repetitive and there was no-one else to talk to. What's so bad about walking with a map in your hand and looking at it all the time?

I managed to keep my vow as I hastened into the hallowed ground and opened the door. "Hmm, no porch," was my first thought. Then, "interesting, no lights either," I pressed and de-pressed the lights switches - to no effect.

St Nicholas Church, Hilfield - ST6305

Stained glass window in St Nicholas Church, Hilfield - ST6305

I had decided to abandon my original, extended route to Batcombe on the following grounds:

1) I was weary
2) I'd been before
3) It was taking longer than I thought to do this walk
4) I'd already decided this was not a suitable walk for my new group so no point in continuing the reccie
And most importantly
5) I wanted to see the friary.

This turned out to be my best decision of the day. I hopped lightly onto the verge into the sharp-edged hedge to avoid being run over by a tractor and then continued towards the Friary. Then, it happened, my first surprise of the day, which actually coincided with the second surprise of the day. The sun was peeping out. "Boy, am I glad to see you!" I welcomed its feeble glow. Then I happened upon a sign.

Hermits Wood, Hilfield - ST6304

Now, this was unexpected because there was no footpath marked on the map and here I was reading about hermits and bats and permissive paths and suddenly the world was a friendly place again despite the fog and flailed hedges. Ooh, this was exciting. the source of the River Wriggle is found in these woods - that's got to be exciting by anyone's standards! And St Francis (THE St Francis) lived near the River Totto in Italy (which translated means 'wriggly river'). I just love these connections!

Apparently one can wander freely round the grounds of the Franciscan Friary here. Maybe I'd find a wriggly river if I wandered into Hermit's Wood. I gave it a try but my luck was out with all things watery today (other than the mud). I was determined to return for more forays into this delightful haven though. I wandered past some early lambs whose mothers were entreating their return to safety and then found myself at the entrance to the Friary.

Franciscan Friary, Hilfield - ST6304

Waiting for the bell to ring - Franciscan Friary, Hilfield - ST6304

As I took my few photos a rather scruffy, unshaven man approached me and I explained my presence. He was very friendly and asked, pointing to my binoculars, if I'd seen anything. We went on to talk about birds. I had to admit I hadn't seen much that day and he said he was very interested in knowing whether any bird surveys were carried out in their gridsquare. He invited me to look round the friary, but I had to decline on the grounds that I knew Paul would be home by now and no doubt waiting for lunch. Yes, I know he's capable of making his own and I could have stayed, but I guess I was weary and just wanted to get home really. But I am definitely going to return for some solitude and soliloquy writing. For more information about the friary, visit http://hilfieldfriary.org.uk/

Number of new gridsquares: 4
Number of miles walked: 6.5
Number of friars I talked to: 1
Total number of people I talked to: 1
Number of cows seen: 0
Number of churches visited: 2

South Perrot Sinking - 5th January

My last walk in this area was in April 2016, but I don't appear to have written a blog about my epic 13 mile hike on that day, which is a great shame. Looking back at the pictures, it seemed a lovely walk, but somehow this area has not yet endeared itself to me. I thought I would devise a short walk for this afternoon to try and rectify that. . .

After all, the forecast was fine - admittedly brighter weather was forecast for the morning, but I decided it would be nice to wait for Paul's return and then enjoy a short jaunt before heading off to Chard for tea with mother.

My spirits gradually sank as the morning wore on and the cloud grew thicker, but, undeterred I presented Paul with a rucksack and flask as soon as he'd walked through the door home from work. "We're heading out," I pressed, "here's your walking boots, socks, thermos, Christmas cake and packet of crisps." "I hope it's not tooooo long a walk," he started to say as I ushered him out to the car, "my ankle is still very sore." "It's only five miles," I promised, "perhaps a little over. Plenty of time to do it before we go to your mother's." Please understand I'm doing this for literary effect - I wasn't really that bossy - honest!

We parked at South Perrott, opposite the Coach and Horses, later learning that this used to be the Village Pound and started our walk through the churchyard, heading south down Picket Lane. The farmhouse has two 'ts', the lane only one - not sure why. This was an uphill climb, but easy underfoot.

St Mary's Church, South Perrott (taken in May 2015) - ST4706

I wish I'd remembered that there is a permissive path leading south from Pickett Farm which ends up where we wanted to be. This would have saved a little bit of road walking. As it was, it states that it is a path to Chedington, which is not where we wanted to be so we avoided it.

Permissive path to Chedington - Pickett Farm - ST4705

Our avoiding the permissive path did mean we got a sneaky look at the Picket trigpoint. Being on farmland, we didn't want to bash our way over to it. I shall ask at the farm house before visiting this one. We crossed Chedington Lane and joined the Monarch's Way briefly past Axe Ford. "We're on the River Axe," I announced confidently, "and I'm in a new gridsquare."

Footbridge over Axe Ford on the Monarch's Way - ST4704

I'd say the trouble began here, at the River Axe where we turned right to Baker's Mill and entered a world where there was nothing beneath your feet except mud - of varying types, consistency and depth. We plodded on through Park Coppice, disturbing some white rumped Roe Deer does who bounded off, unhindered by mud, but whose fluffy white rears gave their location away for quite some distance.

I took a photo of Buckham Mills for good measure, not really needing another one for the square.

Buckham Mills - ST4704

We continued through very wet fields, past an unmarked pond, across a bridge to Baker's Mill where things really started to deteriorate.

Pond near Baker's Mill - ST4604

Footbridge near Baker's Mill - ST4604

It took us a while to find the correct footpath at Baker's Mill and, when we did, it was full of cow slurry, which we reluctantly waded through, past a lot of untidy looking farm buildings and into a river. We were sloshing around, slipping on the mud ice rink and grasping brambles, barbed wire and blackthorn simply to stay upright. Stiles were broken, gates were rusty and the bridleway was a river. Other than that, it was OK!

Footpath/river to Mosterton - ST4504

We emerged into the delights of Mosterton village,by which time I was looking at the map and wondering how we were going to finish the intended walk in time. Paul was wondering the same thing. We stopped for a cup of tea at St Mary's Church, Mosterton.

A reminder (if we needed one) of the major local industry - St Mary's church, Mosterton - ST4505

Invitation at St Mary's Church, Mosterton - ST4505

Leaving the church and village behind us, we began our ascent up Mosterton Down lane to the intended northern limit of our walk and boundary of Dorset. We were on a very narrow lane with no verge and could hear a tractor coming up behind us. "Why are we heading west still?" Paul dared to ask as we rapidly considered our options. "We'd better turn around," I conceded as we walked briskly back down the hill to where the tractor's driver was kindly waiting for us to get off the road.

So our plans changed in the depressing rain and dreary outlook of more mud. Still I would get two more gridsquares before we finally found our way back to the car. Both of them muddy and neither of them worth describing!

Mud and chickens near Chapel Court Farm - ST4506

Footpath to Lecher Lane - ST4606

Number of new gridsquares: 4
Number of miles walked: 4.4
Number of deer seen: 3
Number of out of reach trigpoints: 1
Quantity of mud left on boots: Unquantifiable!