Journal:
After my 8am
English Breakfast, I left the very pleasant and good
value pub and headed out into a bright sunlit
Saturday at 8:45am. I knew I had some climbing
in front of me for the day, so the views would be
good and I had managed to dry out my shoes and
clothes from yesterday, so was feeling quite
chipper.
My route quickly ascended
to some high pastures where the views to the distant
Quantocks, that I would be crossing later in the
day, were spectacular. It's spring and there
are sheep and lambs everywhere. The route
passed through an old country estate, Nettlecombe
Court with it's stately home and it's own church,
not to mention park-like surroundings.
My feet felt a bit better
today, with the sore heel from yesterday gone, but a
new blister between my two biggest toes on my right
foot. At my first break, at 10:30am, I got out
the pen-knife and cut the deep blister open. I
knew it would hurt for the rest of the day, but with
a smearing of antiseptic cream, it should gradually
improve. Maybe it's my hiking socks that are
causing some of my feet problems. They are
Thorlo hiking socks, and I have always been a fan of
Thorlo socks, but the merino weave is quite coarse.
I'll get some inner socks to try with them when I
get a chance, but that may not be for a couple more
days.
Anyway, I carried on,
revelling in the perfect spring weather and the
constantly changing views. The fields were
mostly a rich green, apart from the odd golden crop,
and wildflowers abounded along the lanes and
footpaths and field edges. I reached the
picture-book village of Bicknoller at noon and
debated whether to detour a few hundred metres to
the only pub to get lunch, or take my chances that
the only store in the village, which was on my
route, would have sandwiches of pasties. I
chose the latter option and regretted my choice as
soon as I entered the tiny shop staffed by and
elderly couple. There was virtually nothing
that appealed to me and I settled for a bag of
peanuts and and ice-cream with a few cans of drink.
Nevertheless it was pleasant sitting in the sun at a
picnic table outside the adjacent village hall
watching the world go by. On such a beautiful
Saturday, everyone was out and about, and a few
mountain-bikers whizzed through the narrow village
streets on their way somewhere.
After lunch, I enjoyed the
gradual climb up a valley to the crest of the
Quantocks, a range of low treeless hills (~400m)
providing great views in all directions. The
route followed the crest for several kilometres and
I met lots of hikers, mountain-bikers and some
teenage camping groups, all enjoying the weather and
views. From the eastern end of the Quantocks,
my route descended towards Bridgwater, my target for
the day, but before getting there, followed a
labyrinthine course of little-used public footpaths
and rights-of-way across farms (and through
farmyards) which, while scenic, were hard going.
The footing was often rough, the nettles high and
painful, and I was tired, making it all quite
onerous. The last hours passed very slowly and
I was very ready to call it a day when I finally
reached the streets of Bridgwater, a fairly
unprepossessing town, at 7:30pm. I headed
towards the centre, determined to take the first
accommodation I could find, and ended up at a
virtually empty pub, offering me a basic room with
ensuite for just £20 (actually, when I went to pay
after going out for dinner to a nearby pub serving
food, the girl in charge told me there had been a
mistake and since I had an ensuite, the room was
£25...I countered that the TV didn't work, so we
agreed to keep it at £20!). I have since
discovered that the pub was empty because the night
was still young. Now, as I write this, the
whole place is reverberating and the bar even had a
disco ball in action. Maybe I'll go down later
and show them some of my moves....