June 27, 2019: West Quantoxhead to Galloping Bottom Lane

As we cross the valley bottom on the way to Monksilver this delightful thatched cottage appears on our left.

After the usual English breakfast options had been offered to us by the Mason’s Arms (with Adrian doing everything he could to avoid eggs) we returned to our rooms on the second day of the walk and prepared our bags. These were loaded at exactly 9:00 into Trish’s cab and we left Williton behind for a brief ride back to the Windmill. It was bright and sunny and today heat would be something of a problem.

Somewhat disappointed that we had not completed yesterday’s stage on the Coleridge Way I had been undertaking some research on how we might remedy the problem today. I am not one of those purists who insist that every step of an official route must be undertaken but I do like to complete all the stage on foot – using whatever route might make this more practical or enjoyable. I had noted that we could bypass Bicknoller, where we should have ended up yesterday, and head cross-country, using little travelled roads and tracks, and reach Monksilver, the midway point for today’s stage – perhaps in time for a drink in the town pub. I often like to forsake the official route anyway and to sample the local countryside off-piste, as it were, and Naomi and Adrian agreed to this strategy today.

With a few final road-finding suggestions from Trish we were able to leave The Windmill at 9:10, turning south almost immediately to follow the margins of the roadway to Bicknoller. Long before reaching this village, however, we turned off on Luckes Lane – heading in a southwesterly direction across the level valley bottom in the bright sun. There was very little traffic on this quiet country lane and much to admire in the roadside wildflowers.

As we neared a highway (not the A39 for once) Adrian spotted a bus shelter and he stopped here briefly to bandage a sore toe – borrowing the nail scissors I always carry in my backpack. Then we continued forward over a railway line and actually briefly rejoined The Coleridge Way itself near Trenance Farm. Some local ladies advised us on which road to take to Vellow Wood Cross, where we turned to the west. A brief northerly dogleg then brought us to a mile-long track which, though again crossing another highway, lead unerringly to our desired goal, the village of Monksilver. It was noon and the Notley Arms was open!

We were welcomed by the publican (who used to live on the Portobello Road) and ushered out to his back garden – where we took a shaded table. Our host gave us lots of information on the local church, which he urged us to visit, and had no objection to our opening our packed lunches at one of his tables. I drank a Diet Coke on ice and we congratulated ourselves on our back-roads strategy – which had again put us back in contact with the Coleridge Way.

The church at Monksilver.

At about 1:00 or so we did have a look at the local church with its gravestones, its gargoyles and its stained glass. There was no one about to help us in our search for the resumption of the route but we had soon found it in order to began a steep ascent on a surface that was half path and half stream. In stages we were climbing Bird’s Hill and whenever we lost the cover of woodland it was quite warm in the sun. I had plenty of water with me but I also deployed, each day, a bottle of energy drink – as insisted upon by my pal, Gavan.

Near Colton Cross. We were about to get thoroughly lost.

We at last reached Colton Cross, where things leveled off for some road walking. The official directions called for a union with a bridleway across a field, with a gate opposite that we were now to aim for. But as soon as we entered this field there were problems. There was no obvious bridleway and the only gate visible was some distance away on the skyline to our left. There was a thin trod through the thigh-high grass heading for this spot and Adrian began to follow it – with a grumbling Naomi and a leg-weary brother-in-law in pursuit. After ten minutes we had climbed up to the gate and opened it – but there was no obvious way forward and no sign of a Coleridge Way quill in sight.

While Adrian went off exploring the way forward Naomi and I kept our position but he made a complete circuit of a large field without finding any continuation of our route and attempts to discover any alternative on the hilltop we had just surmounted were in vain. There was nothing to do but return through the tall grass to our original roadway. Here Adrian attempted a more northerly angle across the field and he did discover a hidden gate on the downward slope but by this time he was wary of further impediments ahead and we decided to continue on our lane to see if we couldn’t find a real track to take us down to Chidgley. We had wasted an hour and my conclusion was simple – the authors of our guidebook had done their work in the winter, failing to realize that in the lushness of summer their advice would be deficient.

We now continued in a southwesterly direction along Windwhistle Lane but when we reached its junction with Galloping Bottom Lane the turnoff to the north seemed far less obvious than the OS map had indicated and again, spooked by our recent misadventure, we were reluctant to take a chance. It was also getting late by this time – we should have been at Wood Advent Farm by now and there was nothing to do but call this establishment and report ourselves officially lost. It was 5:30 and we had again covered ten miles.

Actually we knew where we were – just not how to get from here to there – and Ted agreed to jump in his car and give us a lift. “Is salmon okay for supper?” he wanted to know first. We agreed and sat for fifteen minutes or so mulling our failure. I knew that there would now be a section of this stage that could not be made up on the morrow and that meant that I could not offer a chapter on The Coleridge Way on my walking website. “Good,” I offered bravely, “I don’t recommend this route anyway.” (You can see that I changed my mind.)

As Ted pulled up to me, seated on an embankment, I asked him if he had to rescue his guests with any frequency, “Only the American ones,” was his reply. We were soon aboard and, to add insult to injury, Ted pointed out all the spots we should have encountered had we still been on foot. I think we were glad for “on foot” would have meant an arrival time well after 7:00 and by this time I had consumed two gin and tonics and sat down to my salmon. Wood Advent Farm, which also serves as a mecca for the hunting fraternity, was beautifully situated on elegant grounds – we saw a fox cross the grass – and Naomi and I spent some time strolling though the gardens. We were pretty tired after today’s march and for the second night in a row I took some aspirin to ease the pain in my aching legs.

To continue you need:

Day 3: Wood Advent Farm to Luxborough & Heath Poult Cross to Wheddon Cross