June 29, 2019: Brockwell to Porlock
A patch of shade provides me with a nice spot for a rest on the Dunster Path.
Shortly after 9:00 our bags were loaded into Eric’s car and we assumed seats here ourselves for our ride to Brockwell. This village serves as the half-way point in the stage proposed by Celtic Trails but by this time we had no shame in finding more manageable targets for our senior legs. (I was 81 in 2019; my in-laws only a decade or so younger.) Eric, a former farmer himself, kept up a non-stop commentary on the local scene and the world of the hunter and, of course, he knew many of the people we spotted on the roadway as we made our way north.
When we reached a spot near the Coleridge Way there was a little ambiguity about a reunion with the route itself. Eric therefore knocked on the door of a nearby cottage and after a while a man in his pajamas opened his door – apologizing for his attire and claiming he had had a late night. He was very proud of the roses that had grown in profusion onto the roof of an adjacent outbuilding and he assured us we could get back to our route by heading up a nearby path. So we said goodbye to Eric and at 9:35 we were able to begin the day’s trek.
We had a steep climb up a nearby hill but fortunately there was plenty of tree cover to offer shade on another sunny day. Soon we had reached the Dunster Path and, back on route again, we could make a gentle climb in a northwesterly direction. We did have to leave the comforts of our woods on this stretch for trees were now a rarity on the gently rising heathland. I could see the church tower at Luccombe below us on the right and, as the route leveled off, the welcoming sight of more woodland ahead. Once we found a little shade and had a nice path-side rest.
Naomi and Adrian at Webber’s Post.
We reached the trees again and crossed a road at Webber’s Post. Here we also began to encounter lots of other people – including some kids on their Duke of Edinburgh award scheme and an encampment of Scouts whose tents were pitched over a nearby picnic ground. (None of these kids seemed to be enjoying themselves, I’m afraid.) After passing a parking lot we made our way in a northerly direction along some delightful stretches where we even found that great rarity on the British footpath – benches. On one of these we paused to tuck into our packed lunches.
Then we pressed on, following several zigs and zags through the trees as we gradually lost elevation. Another walker had mentioned that there was a café in the hamlet of Horner and as we reached roadway again we began an earnest search for it at about 12:30. Its tea garden was soon located on our right and we took a table in the shade and had some more liquid. I had an orange squash and a Diet Pepsi but the in-laws always chose something more exotic – like elderflower and burdock soda. The garden was full of people, their kids, and their dogs and order numbers were shouted by a lad delivering goodies to the various tables. One little boy fell off his bench and hurt his head. Another was offered a tuna mayo and cucumber sandwich by his mom. He said he could just as well do without the cucumber.
After refreshments in Horner.
When we resumed our walk on the roadway we discovered a second café around the corner. Neither of these establishments, which must be counted as oases by hot, tired or hungry walkers, is mentioned in the route notes offered by the Coleridge Way website. Why not?
On our left we also encountered a large number of picnickers on the grass next to the local stream. “You’re not going into the water naked like that,” one mom was scolding – but her little girl was already knee-deep. Ahead of us we could see the sea.
We now continued in a northwesterly fashion on a trackway over mostly level ground with the guide notes offering detailed and specific suggestions on the twists and turns needed to enter Porlock itself. The afternoon was becoming cloudy now as we completed all our instructions – arriving in the town next to the St. Dubricius Church and encountering our old friend, the A39 once again. It was 3:00 and we had walked only five or so miles from Brockwell today.
It did not take us long to find our accommodation, the Cottage b&b on the main street, but we decided to drop into the Castle Inn, across the street, for some cooling drinks first. I had a shower – these amenities were welcome at the end of the day’s walk and they were much easier to operate than in days past. (Not once did I have to pull a ceiling cord to activate the system.) There was a major problem with my otherwise quite comfortable room. The ceiling sloped downward at an alarming angle and it was of a uniform color throughout and I was always hitting my head as I moved about. Nevertheless I had a nice rest and reported for our evening meal at 7:00 or so.
Naomi and Adrian had failed to get a reservation at this hour at a local pub and so they had chosen a nearby restaurant, the Lapseweed, and here we had a very nice meal. I had a pork chop and drank a glass of white wine. (I also phoned the pub in the next day’s port of call in order to secure a reservation there.) After dinner the in-laws, who had been eagerly enjoying the sights in this quite large and interesting village, went off to check out the sandwich offerings for our next lunch at the local markets and I took to my room, bumped my head a few more times on the sloping ceiling, and had an early night.
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