Tuesday, April 27, 2021

Exehead to Roadwater: LEJoG Day 12

Today I finished my crossing of Exmoor.

The day began with a lengthy walk across the moors eventually reaching the highest point on Exmoor, Dunkery Beacon at 519 metres. At this time of year the reeds of the moors were a straw or brown colour, in contrast to the green, "improved" pasture in the distance, dotted with sheep. Today I passed horses, dark brown with their manes flopping over their large brown eyes in an alluring manner. Skylarks sung above me. Trees in the distance were bare of leaves. In places the path followed old field boundaries, marked by wide earth and stone ramparts. The summit, Dunkery Beacon, marked by earth mounds and a stone cairn, was popular, several people had walked up from the car park. From the top I could see across the Bristol Channel to the coast of Wales in the far distance, although not clearly enough to recognise any landmarks. A viewing table told me I should be to see as far as my home town of Cardiff. 

Horse on Exmoor, with better pasture in the distance

Leaving the Beacon the path led through a wooded valley resplendent with primrose and celandine, blackthorn blossom and ferns. The first green buds of spring were visible on the trees.

Primroses beside a woodland path.

Reaching Wheddon Cross, as I anticipated the "Rest and be Thankful Inn" was closed due to Coronavirus restrictions, however the nearby petrol station had a coffee machine and my lunch! Thanks to the enlightened parish council there were open toilets where I managed to fill up my water bottle (although a separate tap for the purpose would have made this easier, as it was I had to use my coffee cup to fill it as the toilet washbasins were too small to get my bottle under the tap). Many places along my route have had signs requesting donations, I felt the Parish council deserved one.

Approaching Churchtown

I was now in Somerset, my third county. My path continued along bare ridges of farmland before dropping into a valley by Churchtown. From there it was through woods above a stream to Kingsbridge. "The Royal Oak" pub was opposing the general trend in that it was open, at least for drinks sitting outside as per the rules, not food or accommodation. So despite the warm, welcoming log fire inside I enjoyed a delicious pint of bitter shandy with a bag of crisps outside at a table. I had wondered whether to make a long day of it and try for the moorlands of the Quantock Hills to camp tonight, but the timings did not allow it. I had been travelling relatively slowly today (3.1 kilometres per hour) despite the terrain not being too taxing. So I continued to some pinewoods I had identified in my planning and found a quiet spot to pitch, not too clogged with dead branches from tree thinning and fir cones, where I was unlikely to be seen from the nearby tracks. Now I am being pestered by tiny gnats.

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