Bimble in the blizzard - 18th March

It's hard now to believe writing this on a day when I've walked without a coat all day, but this time last week it was a very different scene. We awoke to find a pristine blanket of snow covering the ground and I was eager to explore - safely of course!

Now where could we go that was safe, scenic and not too far away? (Of course I was naturally also asking, "Where can we go that I can gain some more gridsquares?") A compromise was necessary. I just couldn't adjust to the idea of another walk to Hinton St George - even if it did promise tea and cake - oh, that was another criteria, where could we go that was safe, scenic, not too far away and that could offer tea and cake? Or soup? Or both?

"Beaminster," Paul suggested. "OK," I acquiesced. It was getting late (9 am) and if we didn't get our skates on (perhaps even literally) we'd end up talking round in circles and never getting out. "I'll drive," I offered, grabbing the keys and making a bolt for the door.

The roads were a tinsy bit scary, but we arrived safely in the village square and set off into a winter scene of whiteness.

Beaminster - ST4701

Beaminster - ST4701

We approached Gerrard's Hill as the snow started falling faster, covering our way in a glorious white blanket of softness.

Gerrard's Hill in snow - ST4601

Wessex Ridgeway near Higher Burrowbridge Farm - ST4601

Woods near Gerrard's Hill - ST4601

Snow tunnel approaching Gerrard's Hill - ST4601

Snow tunnel approaching Gerrard's Hill - ST4601

Sign in woods on Wessex Ridgeway - ST4601

 As we started our ascent to the familiar landmark of the lonely tree, I gasped in wonder as its beauty. Our much-loved tree is said to be  'flying' - a tree,  seeded by bird or wind in a lofty place.

Stile and 'flying' tree on Wessex Ridgeway on lower slopes of Gerrard's Hill - ST4601

I spent some time getting cold hands photographing one of my favourite trees, whilst Paul waited patiently, blowing on his chilled fingers.

 Then we finished our ascent to the trigpoint. I wonder if there's a word for the way snow lays only on one side of a tree's trunk?

Trigpoint on Gerrard's Hill - ST4601

A sheep was watching us and we were envious of its fleece!

Sheep on Gerrard's Hill - ST4601

It was taking us a long time to get out of ST4601, but we eventually made it into the next gridsquare west - ST4501 at Chart Knolle.

Chart Knolle Farm - ST4501

We had been vaguely following the footprints of another human and a dog, surprised that we were not the only ones mad enough to venture out into a snowstorm. As we approached Stoke Knapp Farm, we caught up with our fellow explorer and his Jack Russell - on his return jog from Lewesdon Hill! So much for thinking we were intrepid! I commented on his footwear (one of those occaisons when you speak before thinking!) "Aren't you cold with your trainers on?" He assured us he wasn't, that they had studs on and ran off leaving us wondering if the studs were a weapon or a walking aid!

We managed to find a huge tyre to sit on with a warming cup of tea at stoke Knapp farm before turning onto a new bridleway for us north to Clanden Hill. We were now leaving the Wessex Ridgeway. I have to admit it's difficult whilst out walking to remember whether I have walked a particular path or not. Paul confirmed we had not done this path before so we strode out with extra tea-fuelled energy and even took a slight detour to investigate an interesting piece of rusty farm machinery.

Rust in snow, Clavendon Hill - ST4401

When we finally got to the B3163 to Broadwindsor, we found it to be very quiet, for which we were glad as we wanted to walk right down its middle for safety and ease.

B3163 to Broadwindsor - ST4402

I took a very rare photograph of a cricket club. (Let's face it they're seldom the most photographic of places!)

Broadwinsdor Cricket Club - ST4402

And then we were on the outskirts of the major city of Broadwindsor where we would find that warming bowl of soup at the Craft Centre. We passed a few brave souls traipsing miserably through the snow, but when we reached the Craft Centre, it looked decidedly closed and that's because it was. What a disappointment! Hungry and weary, we plodded on. Paul had the brilliant brainwave of getting soup at the White Lion pub.

We pushed past some cigarette-smoking patrons, did our best to get most of the snow out of our hair and boots and walked into an almost empty pub where a sign read 'Only Roast Dinners served today'. Just to be sure, we asked and just to be sure we also asked about the signs on the empty tables by the roaring fire (which read 'RESERVED'). "Does that mean the same on snowy days as it does in the sunshine?" I asked hopefully. After all, it was past  pm and there was nobody there. Surely they couldn't still be expecting people to turn up on a day like this.

Soupless and fireless, we sat at our specially designated table and drank tea hot chocolate (me) and beer (Paul). Then it was on with the waterproofs once more and finding somewhere to eat our appetising lunch.

"It'll have to be the church," I said and we wandered in and ate our sandwiches, afterwards realising that it was probably colder inside than out.

St John the Baptist Church, Broadwindsor - ST4302

Having decided to chicken out of the Lewesdon Hill return option, we headed north to Common Water Lane and joined the Monarch's Way. We had walked this way before.Not long after turning onto this lane we got out of the way of a vehicle approaching us. It wasn't until we'd walked the entire length of this lane that we expressed our surprise at how this 'pretend 4 x 4' (as Paul put it) had managed to get all the way down that rutted lane in the snow. It certainly wasn't designed to do it as it hadn't been a farm vehicle. Once committed on these tiny lanes, though, there is often no way of turning back. You've just got to keep on going. Which is also what we had to do and it was about now that our fingers finally gave into the cold. I had been taking my gloves on and off all day and suddenly began to feel absolutely frozen. Then I remembered, with sheer delight, the Hotties' packed away in the top of my rucksack for just such an occasion. I was actually glad to be cold in order to give these a trial as I'd never felt justified in using them up before.

Well, it's no wonder Blacks had sold out of them when we tried to buy some more the following week. These little things are a Godsend (and I'm not on commission to say so!) We actually had two types of hand warmer with us and selfishly I tried the one which I thought would be the best. It served me right that it wasn't; it was rubbish. That was the reusable one. The disposable ones (yes, I know - littering the planet and all that) were filled with tiny iron filings which, when shakes and pressed into the palm of the hand, gradually give off a very comforting heat. "It's like a hot water bottle for your hands!" I exclaimed to Paul after stealing his hottie. (I didn't really; we had two of each types)

Revived, we continued to take photos of the glistening scene before us.

Stream on Common Water Lane - ST4402

We began our descent along a very muddy bridleway at Foxholes Plantation.

Clay Coppice - ST4602

Clay Coppice - ST4602

Trees had formed an incredible web of snow and branches.

Clay Coppice - ST4602

 At a clearing we could look back across to Gerrard's Hill, now unobscured by snow clouds.

Looking towards Gerrard's Hill from Clay Coppice - ST4602

The snow came over our boots in places as we walked through Common Wood.

Common Wood - ST4602

And so we trudged back into Beaminster where cars were now tootling through the streets as if nothing had happened, as if he snow had not just transformed our world, but we knew from our wet feet and snow-laden woolly hats and still glowing hottie-fired fingers that we had just experienced a magic day.

Later I found a beautiful description of a similar day in the States, written by Jean M Hughes and this passage sums it up perfectly.

From 'Walking Around the Sun' by Jean M Hughes.

Number of new gridsquares: 0
Number of miles walked: 7.26