Originally posted 24th March 2008
We went out yesterday afternoon. A short walk along the road to a lane that leads to a farm. Through the farmyard, shutting both gates, we took to an old track which soon turned to a muddy field and climbed beside the hedge to a gate and woods. Here the track reappeared, the remains of a metalled surface under mud.
Still climbing we came to where the track was built over a precipitous little gorge, water tumbling through mangled sheets of corrugated and beams of rotting wood. Whether they were the remains of milling machinery or just rubbish thrown there wasn't clear. The track climbed yet more until we came to tarmac again, a farm drive, and thence to a road and a mile of tarmac in a zigzag to the start of Rhododendron Drive.
The sun had gone and a sleeting rain started, but the evergreen foliage and the pines above kept the worst of the weather off. A mile or so and the drive finished, as did the rain. We crossed a field towards a farmhouse, an exposed place on the nearly treeless ridge, and turned into Luppit Common, now listed as 'open access'. At the crossroads we joined the road down to Luppit. The pub, as expected, was shut - it's just a couple of small rooms at the back of a farmhouse, a rusty sign swinging outside the yard.
We hadn't time to climb up to Hartridge, so walked the valley road instead, diverting to follow an old and abandoned road under the scarp. It was metalled of stone on a clay subsoil. In steeper places the stones had been washed away to leave deep grooves in the clay, like the bed of a stream. The hedges arched overhead, ferns lined the banks, and briars plucked our hats.
Back to the road, which became a lane, passed holiday cottages, and turned into a track. Then the track became a boggy path. A sign warned that the path was closed because of a dangerous bridge. Sure enough the bridge was cordoned off with orange tape. Only the approach steps were rotten, so we dodged under the barrier and passed over the stream. Another muddy field to tramp and we were on a lane again.
Not for long. Right through a gate and into another boggy field, this time populated by sheep with their lambs. The mothers called to their children and watched us as we passed.
Back to tarmac and through Combe Raleigh, then up a narrow dead-end ("No through Road - No turning Circle") and across fields to the river. Evidence a-plenty of recent flooding. We got to the old road and the ford where the old road bridge used to be. Traffic passed above us on the new one.
The old turnpike cottage already had lights on, the temperature was falling. We took a short detour away from the main road, passing the manor house, then rejoined where the footpath started and trudged the final mile home. Actually we stopped at the village pub to fortify ourselves for the last couple of hundred metres. It was 7 o'clock and twilight.
A map check showed a creditable 12 miles. Apart from the one shower - we'd seen several more over distant hills - the weather had been kind, even sunny.
