Corn Bunting Serenade - Maiden Castle to Winterbourne St Martin

It looked like an army ascending the fort, crimson cloaks flapping in the balmy breeze, the same breeze carrying war cries far across the arable fields to the base camp where large chariots awaited, their snorting horses impatiently pawing the ground.

"What is it about you and Maiden Castle?" Jane laughed, bringing me back to the moment, as I got out of my car and peered through my binoculars at the 'army' of school kids ascending the ancient fort. It's true; I always seem to have difficulty finding this place, which would have been an advantage to the fierce defenders of this ancient and massive fort in days of yore. I made a lame excuse about it being difficult to find as I laced my boots and balanced delicately on the edge of the boot to don my burgeoning rucksack.

"Where's your rucksack?" I asked Jane who was sporting her summer 'saddle bags' of a small bum bag. "It might not feel like summer today, but it's summer walking time for me," she laughed, "and that means away with the rucksack and out with the bum bag." I envy people like this, their ability to walk without a litre thermos flask, binoculars, camera, GPS and winter waterproofs - just in case! They don't seem to suffer as a result of being more lightly laden than me, physically or mentally; they don't get any wetter than me, thirstier than me, hungrier than me and, what's more, they don't seem to regret not bring a camera or binoculars. But I know I would; I've tried not taking binoculars and invariably regret it.

We set off in the opposite direction to the army of school children who had now disappeared from sound or vision and I explained to Jane that I had discovered there definitely was a church at Winterborne Monkton which kind of vindicated my insistence on exploring the eastern flanks of Maiden Castle.

Within a few minutes of setting off my ears picked up the distinctive call of the Corn Bunting amongst the exaltation of Skylarks. "Hark!" I stopped in my tracks and tried to work out where the call was coming from. After some time I spotted it singing its little spotted breasted heart out atop a Hawthorn bush. Apparently this is one of the last remaining Dorset breeding sites for this farmland bird and it was comforting to see it here. Whilst battles raged on this ancient site these birds would have been singing and now, over 2000 years later, they continued to sing and their constancy reassured me that amidst tumultuous times, some things remain the same, despite man's best efforts to obliterate them.

Rape field at Maiden Castle where the Corn Bunting still sings - SY6788

Eastern ramparts of Maiden Castle - SY6788

 As we continued eastward looking for our footpath south, a herd of young cows ran towards us expectantly, most of them uniform, but a couple of them sporting an endearing white love heart on their foreheads.

Cows at Maiden Castle - SY6788

Maiden Castle is now owned by English Heritage and is one of the largest Iron Age hill forts in Europe, amazingly the same size as 50 football pitches. It's a great place for children to expend some energy and use their imagination to take them back to days of battles before the technological age. It's hard to imagine now, but this verdant fort, though still prominent in the landscape, was a blinding white feature when it was first built from freshly excavated chalk.

Eastern ramparts of Maiden Castle - SY6788

Eastern ramparts of Maiden Castle - SY6788

We exited the site through a small gate and descended to the minor road which followed the South Winterborne on its east/west course. The hamlet of Winterborne Monkton is very small and we followed the road to the church of St Simon and St Jude. There are few houses here apart from the farm so we were surprised when a landrover came us behind us and slowed to a halt. I opened the door and the middle-aged driver asked us if we were just heading to the church? We answered in the affirmative and he asked if we'd be wanting to look round. Affirmative once more, "if it's not too much trouble," I added, picking up on a slight reluctance on his part to be interrupted in his daily round of chores. "I'll go and get the key," he said, his manner not unfriendly, but we certainly weren't going to be invited in for coffee!

I didn't regret my boldness though I did offer to return the key to the farmhouse when we'd finished. "It's not as simple as that," he explained as he opened the door, set off the alarm and went to switch it off. "It's alarmed." He left us with an information sheet and said he'd return to lock up when we'd finished. I was so glad we'd nearly been run over by the land rover as I'd wanted to visit this church for ages, but there are no other footpaths to it so you have to go out on a limb to visit it. "I'm unlikely to return," I said to Jane as I wandered round with a trigger happy camera, wanting to make the most of this rare opportunity.

St Simon and St Jude, Winterborne Monkton - SY6787

St Simon and St Jude, Winterborne Monkton - SY6787

Altar, St Simon and St Jude, Winterborne Monkton - SY6787

Effigy of Miss Ellerie Bessie Williams of nearby Herringston,
St Simon and St Jude, Winterborne Monkton - SY6787

Stained glass window dedicated to St George (fitting as we visited on St George's Day - also the day that the Duchess of Cambridge gave birth to her third child, a son whom she probably wished she could name George but that name had already been used)
St Simon and St Jude, Winterborne Monkton - SY6787

Apparently Oliver Cromwell stabled his horses here and straw and hay were found in the Rood loft giving some credence to this story.

It being too early on in our walk, we didn't linger for a drink here, choosing instead to continue to Martinstown for lunch, and choosing to walk along the road rather than reascend to Maiden Castle.

Manor House, Winterborne Monkton - SY6787

Churchyard and Manor House, Winterborne Monkton - SY6787

I had visited gridsquare SY6687 on a previous walk in August 2017, so took a quick photo as we passed Ashton Farm, there being nothing else of interest to photograph.

Entrance to Ashton Farm - SY6687

The arable fields in SY6587 were not very interesting either.

Arable crops near Higher Ashton Farm - SY6587

"We're reaching the foot of the first leg," I said to Jane, checking my map as we turned westwards and then almost immediately north towards Eweleaze Barn. I had described the route as looking like 'a pair of trousers' when I'd drawn it out on the map earlier. The foot of the first leg stopped just short of the South-west Coast Path (South Dorset Ridgeway) in square SY6486.

The first thing we noticed as we turned northwards was the strange substrate beneath our feet. "Is this real grass?" Jane questioned, bending down to touch it. It wasn't and the remnants of a painted football pitch further on confirmed its erstwhile usage. We mused on its provenance. "Perhaps someone who works at the farm is a keen runner and doesn't like running through mud and they also work at a school where they had a surplus of astro turf which needed a good home." That was my suggestion. "Look, there's the farmer on his quad bike; go and ask him!" I urged Jane. Before she'd had chance to think of a reason why she didn't want to go and speak to a strange farmer, the quad bike turned into a field and we were left to draw our own conclusions about the reason for artificial turf and the question as to whether it was killing off vegetation beneath it and depriving fauna of a much needed food source.

Strange astro-turf covering on entrance to Eweleaze Barn Farm. - SY6486

This was my second new gridsquare of the day and at first I thought I was going to have to settle for an unimaginative photo of an ubiquitous farmyard, but as we turned the corner we were surprised to see a veritable car merchant's yard with the name Cool It Automotive emblazoned on the erstwhile barn.

Cool It Automotive (Eweleaze barn) _ SY6487

Several vehicles passed us as we continued northwards, pausing to admire the view of Grove Hill Bottom with some cows enjoying the season's fresh pasture.

Grove Hill Bottom - SY6487

We thus approached Martinstown from the south along a very civilised road. I think in fact that this was my least muddiest walk of the year so far. I look forward of course to many more even less muddier walks, having spent far too much time over the past few months entrenched in mud.

Martinstown from SY6588

Approaching Martinstown from the south - SY6588

 A small, docile, and very handsome  herd of Highland Cattle did not budge as we went up to greet them.

Highland Cattle, Martinstown - SY6588

 I photographed an attractive building which I later learned was a care home - not a bad place for a care home is what I thought.

Park House Care Home, Martinstown - SY6588

"We're at the trouser's crotch," I enlightened Jane as we wended our way into the village itself, having decided to make our walk more of a figure of eight as the village green provided us with an excellent and convenient place to eat our lunch. "We'll go up to the waistband and then down the second leg," I went on, more to myself than to Jane, feeling quite smug at my 'discovery'. But there were dandelions to admire before lunch - a proliferation of them adorning East Hill and Grove Hill Bottom.

Field of Dandelions, East Hill - SY6588

Dandelions at Grove Hill Bottom - SY6488

We turned northwards to the Church.

Martinstown - SY6488

After an uneventful lunch, disturbed only by the continual buzz of the churchyard strimmer, we found a footpath behind the church and walked along the 'waistband' to Manor Farm, stopping only to say hello to a noisy pig in a field which he shared with a horse, some goats and a sheep. "They get used to each other if they're introduced to each other early enough in their lives," Jane explained, "otherwise pigs and horses do not tolerate each other very well." The pig grunted its disapproval as we left it foodless and continued our walk.

Pig near Martinstown - SY6489

Church path, Martinstown - SY6489

 At Manor Farm we ignored a byway which would have taken me into yet another new gridsquare, one which i'll have to contrive a reason to enter another day.

Lower Rew Lane, Manor Farm - SY6389

We were both delighted to see Cowslips in blossom, a flower I rarely saw on Islay and the foodplant of the rare Duke of Burgundy butterfly which I hoped to see in a week's time.

Cowslips, Manor Farm - SY6389

Our walk today had been very easy underfoot, with little mud and mostly on farm tracks, just as well as our tongues were going ten to the dozen all day leaving little time to negotiate difficult ground. The track continued up Kit Hill Bottom to Ballarat Farm.

Kit Hill Bottom - SY6388

Approaching Ballarat Farm - SY6288

We turned just short of the prominent Hardy Monument, being now at the foot of the second trouser leg and needing to turn eastwards once more.

Hardy Monument - SY6187

We might have missed out on Hardy Monument, but we were finally getting to go on the South-west Coast Path and Bronkham Hill, the length of the South Dorset Ridgeway which is adorned with probably the most tumuli and barrows in Dorset.(I say probably because I'm not qualified to say so with any authority!)

Entering Bronkham Hill - SY6187

Despite having walked many times in some of these gridsquares, I had not yet set foot in SY6387, and was about to do so. We turned left onto the virtual inner leg of the pair of trousers I have repeatedly referred to in this description and towards Pen Barn Farm.

Approaching Pen Barn Farm Cottages - SY6387

Pen Barn Farm Cottages - SY6387

We then joined a bridleway at Grove Hill Bottom which took us once more into Martinstown.

Grove Hill Bottom - SY6488

 At the church we sat for a quick cuppa (tea in my case, water in Jane's) as despite the length of the walk, there had been few hills and good paths and we had made good time, walking as fast as we talked!

We crossed a delightful stone stile from the churchyard north onto the same path we'd been on earlier, Blackthorn blossom providing an Anne of Green Gables White Way of Delight.

Church, Martinstown and stone stile - SY6489

Blackthorn and the 'White Way of Delight' - SY6589

But Jane had spotted something else of interest, "What's that little castle?" she asked. I'd already peered through my binoculars and was able to confirm that it wasn't a castle; "It's a bush." I said decidedly. "It might look like a hobbit's castle, but it definitely isn't. With apologies for disappointing you." The hobbit's castle/bush in question was Clandon Hill, a Bronze Age barrow  which lies on the same ridge as Maiden Castle. When it was excavated in 1882 some gold objects were found including the Clandon Lozenge.

Clandon Hill barrow/Hobbit's Castle - SY6589

Despite its interest, Clandon Hill was not in the 'right' gridsquare for me, or rather it was little uncertain into which gridsquare the hill fell, half of it seems to be in SY6589 and half in SY6588. Just to be sure, I took, a boring photo of a farmyard at Clandon as well.

Clandon - SY6589

There were just two squares left now and, as if to mark the circular nature of our route (albeit a trouser-like circle), the Corn Buntings started singing again and accompanied us all the way back to the car park where our chariots awaited - not a knight in shining armour or strapping great warrior to be seen though!

Tumulus north of Maiden Castle - SY6689

Maiden Castle Road - SY6789

Corn Bunting at Maiden Castle - SY6789

Number of new gridsquares: 9
Number of miles walked: 12.5
Number of Corn Buntings seen: 12
Number of churches visited: 2

Wonderful Winterbournes - 25th March

It was time for one of my walks of old; the ones I did in the days of yore. Those really long, can't wait to finish, take a million photographs walks. Oh, I had such fun today I shall want to repeat it soon. I had drawn out a 12 mile walk starting from Tibb's Hollow at Frampton and nearly every single gridsquare I was going to set foot in was a new one. Unless you're as obsessed with gridsquares as I am, you will fail to appreciate just what an exciting prospect that is. I could barely believe that I had got so many left to do so close together. Other such gaps exist on my map in the north of the county at Stalbridge, a bit in the Blackmore Vale, amazingly some near Netherbury and going down to Bridport.

I had walked to Compton Valence from Tibb's Hollow before. I wanted to set off early knowing that it was a long walk and I wanted to relish the opportunity to take lots of photos.

Frampton from Tibb's Hollow - SY6194

Full of expectation, I set off. I had photographed my first gridsquare before in July 2016 on my aforementioned walk, when, looking back at my photos form that walk,

the countryside looked much more lush, but arguably just as wet.

Near Longlands Farm, July 2016 - SY6194

The same square - my turn off from Tibb's Hollow - SY6194

I had even photographed my second square on a walk from Sydling St Nicholas in February 2015.

Crossing the River Frome at Frampton, Feb 2015 - SY6294

I wasn't going anywhere near the river Frome today, however. My walk proper started at Steppes Farm, but first I had to get there through those two squares (Tibb's Hollow being the best parking place I could find).

Gate at Steppes Farm - SY6294

It was wonderful to hear birdsong - Blackbird, Dunnock, Wren and my first Chiff Chaff of the year. I always have to do a double take when I hear my first Chiff Chaff to make sure it's not a Great Tit in reverse! There was also lots of promising Wild Garlic around and lots of lichen-covered gates and stiles. My heart was light even if my rucksack was heavy. I always feel winter is nearly over when the Rooks have started building their nests.  I'm rather fond of /Rooks - they're so garrulous and uninhibited. What they lack in looks, they make up for in voice and brashness.

Rooks and their nests near Steppes Farm - SY6294

A rusty old roller attracted my attention at Steppes Farm.

Old roller at Steppes Farm- SY6294

"A rock outcrop, a hedge, a fallen tree, anything that turns us out of our way, is an excellent thing on a walk. Wrong turnings, doubling back, pauses & digressions, all contribute to the dislocation of a persistent self-interest." (from Thomas A Clark, 'In Praise of Walking')

I can certainly testify to that. I need that hedge, that fallen tree, that rusty old roller, those Rooks to grab my attention and stop an otherwise sometimes constant stream of self-analysis, which is sadly at times very self-critical.

But now, here I was in my first new gridsquare of the day, always a momentous occasion and what should I photograph? I left the bridleway to Town Hill farm and continued instead to Church Bottom. I let the name roll round my tongue and bit before photographing what was to be a vision in white in a few weeks when the Wild Garlic had flowered.

Wild Garlic in Church Bottom - SY6293

Hazel Catkins were also dancing in the wind, grabbing my attention.

Hazel catkins, Church Bottom - SY6293

And then a Buzzard was being mobbed by those brazen Rooks, but my photograph was not good enough to include here.

I was following a tributary of the Frome which ends in a pond at Compton Valence, but which provided a pleasant accompaniment to the mewing of the Buzzards and the cawing of the territorial Rooks. Then the benevolence so far encountered on my walk came across a rather large obstacle. Mud, I'm used to that; smelly mud, again what's new? I sloshed my way across to the ning of the gate, oops, wrong side, about turn, unlatch the gate and push, but not before I did most of this little routine, I had noticed a huge tree trunk against the gate on the other side. There was no way this gate was going to budge. I clambered over leaving muddy footprints and made a mental note to report it toe the ROW website upon my return (duly done).

Blocked gate in Church Bottom - SY6293

About here the small tributary had all frothed up looking rather like a plate of mashed potato nicely browned under the grill.

Foam like mashed potato on Frome tributary - SY6293

Gridsquare SY6193 is home to Church Bottom and North and South Slips, all within frampton County Parish. There are two bridleways within the square, both running in a SW/NE trajectory, although Church Bottom flattens out to run almost directly east/west. Imagine if I did that for all the gridsquares!

It was very pleasant walking through this Bottom, which expires conveniently at the border of the next gridsquare.

Church Bottom - SY6193

Church Bottom and North Slip - SY6193

At South Slip I deviated by a few footsteps to take photographs of shivelights and shadows.

Dancing trees in South Slip, Church Bottom - SY6193

"Shivelights and shadowtackle ín long  lashes lace, lance, and pair." 

(from That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the comfort of the Resurrection 

by Gerard Manley Hopkins)

I rejected the option to turn southwards now and curtail my walk by a few miles (through a yet unvisited gridsquare). Instead I continued westwards towards Compton Valence through Compton Bottom, where I had in fact walked once before. I crossed the fast flowing tributary, a glorious chalk stream with Lesser Celandine bordering its waters.

Chalk tributary of the River Frome - SY6193

 I crossed this tributary and bade it farewell for I would see it no more. A tumulus guarded the entry to SY6093 as I entered Compton Bottom and joined my walk of 2016 from the same car park to Compton Valence.

Tumulus in Compton/Church Bottom - SY6093

Bridleway to Longlands Farm (and where my path from July 2016 joined my present one) - SY6093

I watched the 'wind hover' Kestrel, reminding me once more of Manley Hopkins:

The Wind Hover - SY6093

"High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing"

The ground was bare and brown compared with my lush visit of eighteen months previously.

Compton Bottom - SY6093

Compton Bottom, July 2016 - SY6093

But perhaps then this 'antlered' tree would not have had the same attraction. I shall have to return to see it in leaf.

Photos of an antlered tree, Compton  Bottom - SY6093

I was constantly having my attention turned outwards to observe, reflect and be inspired and I was loving it. Taking time to observe closely, to see a tiny piece of sheep's wool written like a short line of music composed on a tree's bark.

My attention was then well and truly taken away from myself by an orchestra of sheep of all sizes, mostly tiny in the form of adorable lambs all bleating their protest at my intrusion which had obviously caused consternation and confusion in their woolly world. Forgive my indulgence in these photos. I was so whisked away into their woolly world and mesmerised by their seeming trust in me - or was it just that they had the wool pulled over their eyes for a moment and mistook me for their mother (can't imagine why). I've never quite had that overwhelming experience with woolly creatures before - in fact I don't think anything or anyone has ever run up to me with the same expectation as those tiny lambs had. It was quite touching.

Sheep and lambs in Compton Bottom - SY6093 and SY5993

Not too bothered, Compton Bottom - SY5993

 After a lot of running around most lambs were matched with their mothers.

I left Compton Bottom to a chorus of bleats and baas as I entered the hamlet of Compton Valence.

Sheep and lambs in Compton Bottom - SY5993

I would recover from my sheep interlude at the church where the Daffodils and Primroses were doing their best to bathe the morning in soft and comforting shades of yellow.

Church of St Thomas a Beckett, Compton Valence - SY5993

Church of St Thomas a Beckett, Compton Valence - SY5993

Church door, Compton Valence - SY5993

I gave the door a shove and had a brief look inside. Apparently this village has a beautiful display of snowdrops in February, but right now I felt like making a return visit in warmer climes,
so continued on the MacMillan Way which led to the destination of the Frome's tributary which I'd been following at Tout Hill.

Pool at foot of Tout Hill - SY5993

 I followed the MacMillan Way up Tout Hill, which I think was the sole hill of the walk.

Ascending Tout Hill - SY5993

This emerges at the Roman Road which I'd walked short sections of on previous walks (Maiden Newton to Toller Porcorum, Three Churches and Askerswell to Litton Cheney). I'd never set foot in this gridsquare and there wasn't much to see in it other than the odd pit here and there.

Pit - SY5892

When I reached the road I was disgusted to see a pile of old tyres, boxes and other rubbish just left by the side of the road. This is an utter disgrace.

Disgrace on the Roman Road- SY5892

I had about three-quarters of a mile to walk along this road, which wasn't altogether unpleasant with its views north across field systems to Compton Valence. Annoyingly though I had noticed that my GPS was showing that its batteries were very low. Why hadn't I bought more this morning at the Co-op when I'd thought about it?

Compton Valence from the Roman Road- SY5892

Compton Valence turn off from the Roman Road - SY5992

Roman Road near Compton Valence - SY5991

Field systems near Compton Valence - SY5991

Still I was happy to turn off onto a bridleway leading to Winterbourne Abbas. I was in a field of crops dotted with sheep who, in contrast to the last field of sheep I was in, couldn't have been less interested in me. I stepped over an electric fence to walk diagonally across the field along the path which looked well trodden.

Path through crops near Lankham Eweleaze - SY6091

There wasn't much to hold my interest here and I was glad to reach a track which would lead into the village of Winterbourne Abbas.

Track to Winterbourne Abbas - SY6191

Track to Winterbourne Abbas - SY6190

This is a village we have only scratched the surface of on a few times, to stop hastily to buy horse manure, to reach the outskirts of on our way to Abbotsbury and I think that's it. But somewhere lodged in the archives of my brain was a memory of a petrol station, which, if I was lucky meant shop and that meant batteries! After several miles of walking alone through mud and not meeting a single person, I was suddenly rushed into the 21st century once more with cars dashing past on the busy A35 and pedestrians dodging me on the pavement.

It took a while to cross the road; I was determined I was not going to walk several yards in either direction to reach a proper crossing. I wanted to cross here and now thank you very much. 'Here and now' being opposite the church.

St Mary's Church, Winterbourne Abbas - SY6190

I finally made it across and paused to photograph the chalk stream flowing by the road. The South Winterbourne wends its way through several villages which bear its name: Winterbourne Came, Farringdon (now deserted), Herringston, Monkton, St Martin (Martinstown), Steepleton and Abbas. The stream is itself a tributary of the Frome, Dorset's longest river, and the name 'Winterbourne' means a stream which only flows during the winter months. I'm sure that's not entirely true of this one though!

I had spent several days last year exploring the theme of the South Winterbourne in a creative writing workshop called DIVA which I had found truly inspirational. Since then I had been keen to visit these villages which bear the name of this stream.

South Winterbourne at Winterbourne Abbas - SY6190

I paid the church a quick visit, but decided to carry on to Winterborne Steepleton before stopping for lunch. I was glad to see that yes, there was a garage and it sold batteries. Replenished I continued along the A35 until I reached the road that we normally turn off onto on our way to Abbotsbury. This was not a pleasant part of the walk as the road was very busy and it is difficult to cross. That was now the third time that day I had had to cross it. Only one more time to go!

South Winterbourne at Winterbourne Abbas - SY6190

Inside St Mary's Church, Winterbourne Abbas, note the balcony, an unusual feature I think - SY6190

Almost immediately after turning off onto this road, there is a footpath leading eastwards across North Hill to Winterbourne Steepleton, my next Winterbourne and my next gridsquare (losing count now).

North Hill near Winterbourne Steepleton - SY6290

I immediately made the mistake of not climbing the hill here, ergo not following the footpath, ergo, getting nowhere fast. When it became obvious that I was not going to get through the thicket of bramble and blackthorn I reluctantly backtracked and made my way up the hill until I joined another footpath which descended into the village of Winterbourne Steepleton. I could see it for a while before I entered it.

Winterbourne Steepleton from North Hill - SY6290

An arresting tree at foot of North Hill - SY6290

An arresting tree at foot of North Hill - SY6290

An arresting tree at foot of North Hill - SY6290

An arresting tree at foot of North Hill - SY6290

When I had finally torn myself away from this tree which seemed to be bowing before me, I was then stopped in my tracks my a little wooden chalet which was bulging at the seams with brambles and other vegetation. It was certainly giving nature a home or rather nature was squatting on its premises and it was going to be hard to get rid of it! Who would want to!?

Nature squatting, Winterbourne Steepleton - SY6289

I stepped into the village of Winterbourne Steepleton. Now this village I have no recollection of at all. But there was the South Winterbourne adorned with Daffodils.

South Winterbourne, Winterbourne Steepleton - SY6289

South Winterbourne, Winterbourne Steepleton - SY6289

As soon as I saw St Michael's Church, I was glad I'd waited until now to have my lunch. I was going to be eating with the garrulous Rooks. A sign apologised that the church was closed at the moment due to falling plaster. There was no bench and feeling very reverent I chose not to sit on the table graves, but got out my mat and sat on a little hummock at the back of the church and got out my feast. I'd been looking forward to my pork pie for several miles now. I only ever allow myself this gelatinous luxury when I'm walking (same with apples which are only ever so slightly more healthy).

With the Rook's symphony playing in my ears, I sat munching away for several happy minutes, willing the Rooks into position for a good flight photograph.

St Michael's Church, Winterbourne Steepleton - SY6289

Rookery, Winterbourne Steepleton - SY6289

I had a short section of road walking to do before turning off onto the footpath to Martinstown or Winterbourne St Martin as I prefer to call it in keeping with my winterbourne theme.

Footpath to Martinstown - SY6389

Footpath to Martinstown - SY6389

I passed through some village earthworks and caught up once more with my winterbourne.

Village earthworks, Winterbourne St Martin - SY6389

South Winterbourne - SY6489

Then I came to the delightful village of Winterbounre St Martin about which I had read and heard so much during my creative writing workshop. As usual I can't remember much now. One of the first things I came across was the sheep washing pool, used each day in May to wash the flocks of sheep from the village farms and surrounding area prior to shearing, since a higher price could be obtained for clean fleeces.

Sheep washing was carried out in a deep pool – the washpool or wash 'dub' – in a dammed up river or stream, in which the sheep were dropped and forced to swim to get back out. The flock were gathered in a washfold, built on the bank with an opening facing the pool.

The washing pool in Winterborne St Martin has sides of one metre high and a dip 3 metres in diameter. Entry for water from the South Winterborne River is on the north side, the exit on the south side with monolithic jamb stones, each channelled to take a sluice gate. Access to the dip from the south east is via five shallow stone steps. The washing pool was last used in the 1960s. (Information from Geocaching.com)

Sheep wash pool, Winterbourne St Martin - SY6489

South Winterbourne, Winterbourne St Martin - SY6489

I wandered across the Village Green to the church of St Martin. The Green was once the scene of the village fete, held every November around St Martin's Day (11th). The last such fair was held in 1982.

St Martin's Church, Winterbourne St Martin - SY6489

Cross-stitch collage, St Martin's Church, Winterbourne St Martin - SY6489

Bible, St Martin's Church, Winterbourne St Martin - SY6489

Nature had reclaimed its home within the telephone box in the village.

Phone box, Winterbourne St Martin - SY6489

I retraced my steps to the Brewers Arms, the Wash Pool and the bridleway north. I was on the homeward stretch now with few gridsquares left.

The Brewer's Arms, Winterbourne St Martin - SY6489

 I followed the bridleway north, not looking forward to the short stretch of A road walking that was ahead of me.

Leaving Winterbourne St Martin - SY6489

Thankfully it was only a very short stretch and then I was back on another bridleway signposted to Bradford Down Farm. That wasn't my destination, however. I passed a chalk pit and another pile of wooden rubbish - lots of pallets.

Bridleway and track to Bradford Down Farm - SY6490

Another eyesore - chalk pit near Bradford Down Farm - SY6490

Once through the woods I saw some Roe Deer, the first of the day and watched them bound gracefully across the fields as I plodded on. Despite the miles I still felt invigorated. There hadn't been much uphill to tackle and I'd been content taking lots of photographs and not worrying about holding anybody up.

The bridleway turns off before reaching Bradford Down Farm and then I was in the field with the biggest horse in the world. It idled over to me, definitely a male and towered over me. I remembered Paula's advice and held out my arms to make myself look big, much bigger than I felt. I was very aware of my dwarfed size and this  beast's immense power should it wish to use it against me.

Giant horse near Higher Skippet Farm - SY6490

There was nothing much other than field to photograph in the next gridsquare.

Bridleway near High Skippet Farm - SY6491

And then I was at Higher Skippet Farm where I saw my first fellow walker and dog. We bade each other a curt good afternoon and I waited until I'd reached somewhere more picturesque for my photograph. I'd toyed with the idea of detouring to visit the trigpoint at Knowle Hill, but was running out of energy and time. The sign for Hampton Lodge made an attractive subject for my photo.

Hampton Lodge sign - SY6391

 Then it was a pleasant walk through woodland which I would like to return to when the trees are in leaf.

Hampton Plantation - SY6392

A corrugate iron building in the woods looked inviting and I mused on its history.

Habitation in Hampton Plantation - SY6392

The forest floor was a carpet of spring flowers.

Spring flowers in Hampton Plantation - SY6392

I followed the metalled track through the plantation which looked like it was once a deer park; I had passed the Keeper's Cottage.

Hampton Plantation - SY6392

Hampton Plantation - SY6292

I had photographed my final gridsquare for the day, but there was still plenty to see, the delightfully named Pigeon House and a Green Woodpecker yaffling away and then moving from one telegraph pole to the other, always just out of range for a photograph (with this camera anyway).

Pigeon House, Hampton Plantation - SY6293

Bulbous tree in Hampton Plantation - SY6293

Soon I was at the end of the bridleway and back where I had started at Steppes Farm.

Bridleway to Steppes Farm from the south - SY6293

Frampton from Tibb's Hollow - SY6194

That had been a very self-indulgent and delightful walk and one I hope to repeat with paul in a few weeks' time to see how the scenery has changed.

Number of new gridsquares: 16

Number of miles walked: 12.8

Number of churches visited: 4

Number of blocked gates: 1

Number of Winterbournes walked through: 3

Number of sheep and lambs encountered: 323