LEJOG day 13: Taunton to Street
Today was long, flat and mostly boring. It nearly reduced me to tears.
I set off later than I wanted to, because the only open pub I would pass all day was irritatingly close to the start of my walk, and I didn't want to be sitting at their door waiting for 12 noon, or to be eating lunch that soon after breakfast. However, I did set off, striding along river- and canal-side foot- and cyclepaths, and I was bored of the never-ending flatness after two hours. I thought I'd love not having to climb anything, and to be fair that part was quite nice, but all I had to look at was flat green.
It didn't help that I quickly found myself walking through knee-to-waist-high nettles and grass, all of it wet, and made the same mistake twice: I didn't put the gaiters on until my walking trousers were soaked to the knee, and then didn't put the waterproof trousers on until I was soaked to the mid-thigh. At least the gaiter cost-per-use is coming down, though.
I walked past (but not very near) King Alfred's monument- John Sloane decided the drained wetlands of Somerset deserved a hunk of stone on a slight elevation, so in the early 1800s that's what they got- and pitched up at the pub at half twelve, where I found a menu far beyond my expectations, and appetite, which made choosing tricky: so I had a burger. Don't judge.
Following lunch, I walked down a footpath that ended at a fence and a ditch with no means of crossing either to reach the corresponding footpath the other side, so had to retrace my steps and take something of a long detour along some roads to get to the thrilling part of crossing the Somerset levels: A roads. The levels used to be very marshy floodplain, but have been drained with varying degrees of success since approximately forever; they're criss-crossed with the drains that carry all this extra water around. You have to cross these, and in the case of the ostensibly natural Sowy River, the only way to do this is the A372 or the A361. Obviously, running parallel to the road I chose, on both sides, are some extra drains, so really the whole thing functioned as a super-fun moving game of skittles, with me as the skittle. I have never been so relieved to see a footpath sign in my life as I was when I reached Greylake Bridge and the path which runs along the King's Sedgemoor Drain.
I should not have been relieved.
Although this footpath is a public right of way and clearly marked on the map and signposted from roads at both ends, it was a mile and a half of Hell. I encountered thistles and nettles and more waist-high grass; two herds of energetic, curious and alarming young bulls; about four locked gates, which I clearly had to go through; several half-rotted bridges over the aforementioned drains; and basically no sign of an actual path at any point. I nearly cried when my feet touched the tarmac at the other end.
I then got to trudge another very dull 5 miles or so, most of it along the longest, straightest road I've ever encountered, before arriving at my B&B for the next two days. To put the cherry on top, I had a look at my spreadsheet to make sure that the next time I do something so daft is in Scotland, and discovered that I'm walking just as far on Thursday.
But my hostess greeted me with a giant slice of apple cake and then dinner, and now I've been handed a glass of homemade brandy, so things are looking up.
In case anyone reading ever intends to do this journey themselves, though, I really cannot emphasise enough how much you absolutely shouldn't take this- or possibly any- route across the Somerset Levels.
Distance: 19.81 miles
Time taken: 8h15 between leaving and arriving, but I stopped for lunch. Runkeeper thinks I only walked for 4h42
Percentage completed: 18.6%
Boot cost per mile: £0.38
Lunch: burger
Last night's B&B: premier Inn, again
A bridge- I don't think it gets much use
What a lovely tree
King Alfred's monument
There is no explanation for the presence of this armchair
Proposed conversation:
"'Ere, Barry, 'ow're we gonna get people to, like, respect and fear our Church?"
"Put it on a hill, Sam"
"Barry, we live on what's going to be called the Somerset Levels, we ain't got a hill"
"THEN WE SHALL BUILD ONE!"
This is historically inaccurate and the terracing I thought indicated the hill was man-made is in fact evidence of mediaeval farming. Boo.
Clouds and very flat ex-marshland
First thought: "that's Glastonbury Tor"
Second thought: "no way am I climbing up that"
I set off later than I wanted to, because the only open pub I would pass all day was irritatingly close to the start of my walk, and I didn't want to be sitting at their door waiting for 12 noon, or to be eating lunch that soon after breakfast. However, I did set off, striding along river- and canal-side foot- and cyclepaths, and I was bored of the never-ending flatness after two hours. I thought I'd love not having to climb anything, and to be fair that part was quite nice, but all I had to look at was flat green.
It didn't help that I quickly found myself walking through knee-to-waist-high nettles and grass, all of it wet, and made the same mistake twice: I didn't put the gaiters on until my walking trousers were soaked to the knee, and then didn't put the waterproof trousers on until I was soaked to the mid-thigh. At least the gaiter cost-per-use is coming down, though.
I walked past (but not very near) King Alfred's monument- John Sloane decided the drained wetlands of Somerset deserved a hunk of stone on a slight elevation, so in the early 1800s that's what they got- and pitched up at the pub at half twelve, where I found a menu far beyond my expectations, and appetite, which made choosing tricky: so I had a burger. Don't judge.
Following lunch, I walked down a footpath that ended at a fence and a ditch with no means of crossing either to reach the corresponding footpath the other side, so had to retrace my steps and take something of a long detour along some roads to get to the thrilling part of crossing the Somerset levels: A roads. The levels used to be very marshy floodplain, but have been drained with varying degrees of success since approximately forever; they're criss-crossed with the drains that carry all this extra water around. You have to cross these, and in the case of the ostensibly natural Sowy River, the only way to do this is the A372 or the A361. Obviously, running parallel to the road I chose, on both sides, are some extra drains, so really the whole thing functioned as a super-fun moving game of skittles, with me as the skittle. I have never been so relieved to see a footpath sign in my life as I was when I reached Greylake Bridge and the path which runs along the King's Sedgemoor Drain.
I should not have been relieved.
Although this footpath is a public right of way and clearly marked on the map and signposted from roads at both ends, it was a mile and a half of Hell. I encountered thistles and nettles and more waist-high grass; two herds of energetic, curious and alarming young bulls; about four locked gates, which I clearly had to go through; several half-rotted bridges over the aforementioned drains; and basically no sign of an actual path at any point. I nearly cried when my feet touched the tarmac at the other end.
I then got to trudge another very dull 5 miles or so, most of it along the longest, straightest road I've ever encountered, before arriving at my B&B for the next two days. To put the cherry on top, I had a look at my spreadsheet to make sure that the next time I do something so daft is in Scotland, and discovered that I'm walking just as far on Thursday.
But my hostess greeted me with a giant slice of apple cake and then dinner, and now I've been handed a glass of homemade brandy, so things are looking up.
In case anyone reading ever intends to do this journey themselves, though, I really cannot emphasise enough how much you absolutely shouldn't take this- or possibly any- route across the Somerset Levels.
Distance: 19.81 miles
Time taken: 8h15 between leaving and arriving, but I stopped for lunch. Runkeeper thinks I only walked for 4h42
Percentage completed: 18.6%
Boot cost per mile: £0.38
Lunch: burger
Last night's B&B: premier Inn, again
"'Ere, Barry, 'ow're we gonna get people to, like, respect and fear our Church?"
"Put it on a hill, Sam"
"Barry, we live on what's going to be called the Somerset Levels, we ain't got a hill"
"THEN WE SHALL BUILD ONE!"
This is historically inaccurate and the terracing I thought indicated the hill was man-made is in fact evidence of mediaeval farming. Boo.
Second thought: "no way am I climbing up that"
First thought: Oh Glastonbury Tor. Second: I am not climbing up that hill. Third: I am so glad I climbed up here 😃
ReplyDeleteI hear you for King Sedgemoir's Drain! My knees still full of nettle stings! Sorry this is the bit my kids are with me they survived and were less afraid of those young skittish bulls than I was!
ReplyDelete