Bridgewater looked considerably more attractive this morning in the sunlight, compared to its drab, grey appearance in the drizzle last night. Red brick and painted buildings lined the streets and riverbank, benches and flowers in planters improved the atmosphere (as did a latte from Costa's). I left town through more modern housing crossing the railway line at the station and then the M5 motorway. The town is something of a transport hub.
Following the guidebook I crossed the fields of the Somerset Levels, fields almost all used for hay or pasture, with grazing cows and sheep. Suffering intermittent flooding, a system of drains and pumping stations help keep them free of water. I passed one pumping station, a large red brick building. The level reached by the high spring tide was marked more than half way up the side of the building, which suggests without intervention the whole area would be under water for much of the time. As far as possible the guide tries to keep you on footpaths. I made a deviation at the village of Bawdrip, walking on a cycle path laid on the bed of a former railway line. Lined with greenery and a few interesting sculptures, I found it a preferable alternative to trying to find paths over fields, although I know some walkers find tarmac hard in the feet. Many cyclists were out, both on the cycle track and the quiet roads of the Levels, both racing and more leisurely types. Provided there was no wind, bicycling on the Levels must be an enjoyable activity.
I continued on the paths and quiet lanes described in the guide, however my feet had gained multiple plasters covering growing blisters from the previous days' walking. So, where the guide had a big loop west near the end, I took a road route, although it did mean a kilometre and a half on a busy secondary road. Cars speeding past close to my elbow was a bit unnerving, although most drivers were more considerate it only takes one to kill you. The guide's westerly loop made sense given that the busy road appeared the only alternative. A set of temporary traffic lights around road works was part of my busy road section. However I walked the length of the alleged road works and there was nothing to be seen. I suspect the work had finished but there had been little effort to remove the cones and traffic controls as soon as possible.
Arriving at the edge of Cheddar town, I noticed a tent pitched in a campsite. This would not normally surprise me, but due to their interpretation of Covid rules, all the campsites I had investigated for this trip were refusing tents. On checking at reception I discovered that they had just started taking tents, but showers are not allowed so they can comply with regulations in a way that was practical. My tent is now pitched and drying out, still wet from the rain yesterday. As the ground is flat, dry and the grass beautifully cut I am expecting a sound sleep tonight. Around me a collection of rabbits are helping to trim the grass, tame enough to do so while people are around but hopping away if you approach them too closely.
Later at the White Hart Inn, after struggling and failing to order online from my phone, the bar staff took pity on me and accepted my order in the traditional way. I ate rather too much, three courses, and two pints of "potholers" which had me burping all the way back to the tent. I had found it rather cold eating outside the Pub, in compliance with Covid rules, although the jovial groups of locals at the nearby tables seemed unaffected as they cheerily exchanged greetings and the latest news.
No comments:
Post a Comment