Mileaters Walk from Athelhampton
After days of icy weather and continual rain it was an especially resilient and hearty group of ten Mileaters and three dogs who set out on a six mile walk one Tuesday in early December. And how glad we all were that we made the effort. Because it really was not as muddy as feared and it was just very good to be out walking again after far too many days stuck indoors.
We parked at in the car park of beautiful Athelhampton and after crossing the road turned up the lane beside the small church there and climbed steadily through beech and oak woodland to fields with beautiful views down the valley to Tincleton. We stopped by a small poignant stone monument in memory of one of the sons of the owners of nearby Clyffe House, killed in France in 1940.
Re-entering woodland we followed a broad track through woodland for two miles, finally taking a left which took us down through the tall conifers of Southover woods and heath to join a track which, after fields and a long sunken track (which is in late spring has its sides covered in wild flowers) reaches Park Farm House and a pretty walk by the river to return to the church.
Lunch was at Athelhampton where we were welcomed and quickly served with hot drinks and tasty food.
Cathie Seigal
Mileaters Abbotsbury Walk
Starting at the Swan Inn, Abbotsbury 13 Mileaters headed North East up onto the top of the ridge past Jubilee Coppice. It was a glorious day and the views of St Catherine’s Chapel and the Fleet were lit by the sun’s rays coming through the gaps in the clouds and looking like a blessing from up above. It was a blessing to get the uphill part done first but a cold north wind met us once we reached Wears Hill and Abbotsbury Hillfort. We hunkered down in the lee of the ramparts there for a cuppa and a snack. Once past Abbotsbury Castle we crossed the road and followed the path to the sea close to Labour in Vain Farm. Is this a comment about the nature of the soil there or perhaps the nature of the farm workers, I wonder. I can only imagine that it must have been a bit depressing inheriting a farm of that name.
On to East Bexington Farm and from there we skidded our way down the muddy track to the coast path, through or around the flooded parts of the road and on to the track that skirts the West of Chapel Hill. From there it was a short walk back to the Swan Inn where most of us wolfed down a hearty pub lunch. A beautiful walk with a great mix of interests.
Colin & Jo
A Walk on the Estate
It’s the 20th October, the forecast is poor, nay awful. Storm Babet is on the horizon and yet still 14 intrepid mileaters set out to walk.
This 5 mile jaunt started in Thorncombe Wood worked our way via the roman road and rhododendron tunnels to Lower Bockhampton and along the river Frome to Stinsford where some stopped to check out the grave of Thomas Hardy`s heart. We also heard about the conversion of the Kingston Maurward house to a college property to solve the countries food shortage after the war. The only trouble with the walk was the number of stiles! Its not that we couldn`t do them it was just that it took time to get through. We thought of forming a band called the Stile Council, but thought again. Anyway as luck would have it the weather man was wrong, it was a beautiful day, a lovely walk, polished off with a convivial pie and a pint in the Trumpet Major.
“I counted them all out and I counted them all back again”
Tom Webb
Chetnole with Stile
Fresh from the Mileaters Tour of Dartmoor an intrepid number (18) of the group turned out to tick off another area of Dorset and get to the pub before Storm Agnes arrived. From the Chetnole Inn our early route lulled the group into a false sense of security, it being mainly flat grassland. Then came a section which took in the only bit of hillside for some miles. Following the Hardy Way we ventured, out of breath, to the summit and plunged down into the lovely little hamlet of Melbury Bubb. Sounds better if you say it as Blackadder would, with emphasis on the final B’s. Hardy called this place Little Hintock in “The Woodlanders”. There is a church here with an extraordinary font on which the animals are carved upside down. This font had been part of a large cross once which has been repurposed. Oil lamps adorn the walls and a huge log burner the entrance.
After a coffee break we regained height on the Hardy Way before descending to the next church.
I don’t think calling someone ‘The Grand Old Duke of York’ was warranted after all it was only about 100’ in actual vertical height! Passing the trig point gives one a fine view towards the NW into Somerset (well, on a clear day perhaps). The path took us to the uniquely named Church of St Edwold, said to be one of the oldest in Dorset. Measuring 30’x12’. Edwold was a hermit who came to Cerne Abbas and started the Hermitage by the Silver Well. Recently, it has been suggested that the Cerne Abbas Giant is a depiction of Edwold. St Edwold’s Day is the 29th Aug.
From the Church there is a very pleasant flat(ish)walk back towards Chetnole. But first, our esteemed President decreed that in true tradition we would follow the correct path across a ploughed field to the Sheaf of Arrows before turning for home. In so doing we reinstated the footpath for the farmer free of charge. The walk is about 5 miles but would have been shorter had a footbridge contained the necessary planks. However, the diversion allowed those with muddy boots to wash them by fording the stream.
All along the walk we encountered some impressive Oak trees with huge acorns. There must be some very chunky squirrels in these parts, not to be messed with unless you are in the WI. Once again crossing the railway led us back to the Inn 15 mins later than my estimate.
Did I mention the stiles? Apparently, there is a prize for the walk containing the largest number of stiles. When one pre-walks a route, a few stiles doesn’t make much of a difference. When a group attempts the same walk it can make a huge difference. All those creaking hips and grinding knee joints, a sound not for the faint hearted. I think there were 10 stiles in all. However, we were able to walk around one and used the two gates at the railway crossing instead, so 7 seems a good number to set as a target with only a few months left of this year.
Martin Usherwood
Mileaters on Tor
“I’ve never seen anything like it”, said the hotel manager. “It’s quite remarkable. A village away together on holiday. And you’re such a friendly witty bunch. You should write a book about it. It’s extraordinary”..
Well, maybe it doesn’t justify a book, but it certainly justifies a write-up in Valley and Valence. Every year, the Martinstown Mileaters walking group goes away for a three nights expedition to experience a new set of walks, as well as doing the eating that is such an integral part of the group’s name. This year twenty-nine members of the group, plus five dogs, made their way to Moretonhampstead on Dartmoor, which is only an hour and a half’s drive away if the traffic conditions are good… which they weren’t.
But it was the weather that was the real concern. The tail end of a hurricane that had caused havoc the other side of the Atlantic was scheduled to hit us on our second day, but as Alfred Wainwright (the patron saint of British walkers) once wrote, ““There's no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.”
The weather for Walk One direct from our hotel and up to the cairns and stone circles overlooking the village was actually delightful, with blue skies and great visibility – though several members were unable to join because of important commitments in the village. But the weather for the second day’s walk, up on the moor itself needed several powerful adjectives, none of which were “delightful”. In the face of driving rain and gusting winds, allied with a general emotion of “what on earth are we doing”, we made our way up to Hay Tor, at which point one of our dogs chose to go missing. After some delay, it turned out that he had run back to the shelter of the visitor centre. Sensible dog. But we eventually persevered, the weather calmed a bit, and after a stunning walk of five miles, several Tors, a Medieval village, an extraordinary stone tramway, and the gorgeous sight of a Dartmoor Pony and her baby foal, we returned exhausted to our hotel – the White Hart.
The dismal weather meant we abandoned plans for walking on our second morning – though the afternoon walk along Fingle Gorge has to be one of the most delightful in the West Country. But the real key to the holiday was the company. As the hotel manager observed, the friendship and companionship was palpable. The hotel’s excellent staff did us proud, even tolerating our taking over the dining area for a wicked quiz on the final night – eventually won, after much good-humoured bickering by contestants, by our group’s esteemed President, Nick Priddle. As an Autumn break, we really couldn’t have asked for Moor.
David Haslam