COLERIDGE WAY PART 2

COLERIDGE WAY PART 2

Yesterday was fun.  I prevailed upon my D in law and granddaughter to join me on the next leg of The Coleridge Way; another son and grandchildren had helped me do the first which was Nether Stowey to Holford.   Part  2 was from Holford toWest Quantoxhead – 3.9 miles according to the guide – rather longer  our way.

It’s a fair way from us to Holford so I was to drive there, park the car, do the walk and the men would meet us at the Windmill pub and drive us back to my car.  My car is an ancient Escort – Bluebell, whose blueness is now tinged with a green alga as she lives outside in all weathers.  Which probably accounts for our not being able to unlock the doors.  However son No 3 who is big and strong and very handy with machinery managed to open them, so off the three of us went.

We had excellent instructions which had worked very well on the first leg, along with my son’s map.  This time I didn’t think to take a map.  Not a good idea as you have no idea of distance and the orienteering is a bit hit and miss.

At Holford we drove up the far side of the pub looking for the village green car-park. We took a right when we should have taken a left and ended back at the pub.  I started to turn round in the narrow road and was thankful Sheila was a girl and therefore able to ask for directions.  Unfortunately there was no one around so we decided to turn the car round and go back up the first route.

The three point turn became more of an eight point turn and Sheila, appalled at the stiffness of the steering and trying to help, grabbed the steering wheel so there were four hands frantically wrenching the wheel as we reversed – into the pub.  Just the gentlest of bumps it was, so we didn’t bother to wake up the sleeping pub.  Twice more Sheila got out and asked and finally we ended up at the sweetest village car park tucked away out of sight.

Such a shame – today and Monday were beautiful days but yesterday was grey and a bit rainy.  However we got views over the Bristol Channel, saw Alfoxton House where Wordsworth lived, saw an ancient Dog Pound and missed a Hugenot silk mill.  Wild moor land, deep combes and forests as black as the ace of spades made it an interesting and varied walk.

It all went a bit pear-shaped at Perry Combe where we were instructed not to take the gate to the A39 and to ignore all paths uphill.  There didn’t seem to be a path ahead so we went up and up and up – looking for a stile into the forest.  At the top we walked along – skirting the forest and eventually dropped down and down and down until we were back on track, exhausted and cursing our lack of a map.

We phoned the men four times – each time certain that our arrival at our rendezvous point – the Windmill Pub – was imminent.   At last, weary, wet and bedraggled we arrived.  The Windmill was awash with people including my chum Frank.  Frank and I are on the A team of |Newspapers for the Blind and he had his 89th birthday last week.

After an excellent lunch we managed to replace the calories we had lost and were driven back to pick up Bluebell.  Home again and after a hot bath and a nap felt like a new woman.  Just as well as today is James’s sixth birthday.