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Published: November 14th 2009
Jokers Farm (Box)
View from the B&BLondon to Trefynwy (Wales) via Lands End
Overview
This commentary describes 12 days in our month long journey - that part of the journey from London to Wales via Wiltshire (the Cotswolds), Dorset, Devon, Cornwall, Somerset and Gloucestershire. As we’d explained in our last ‘travelogue’, we’d arrived at Stansted Airport a week earlier, and travelled to Cambridge for a couple of days, before collecting a car and heading north-east to Norwich via Ely - after which we turned south to London.
This segment of our journey takes us from London to Wiltshire (on the M4) and the Cotswolds, then on backroads through a little of Hampshire to Dorset and Devon before landing in Cornwall. The south-western part of England comprises rolling hills and engaging towns. The coastline of this area faces the English Channel and is dotted with quaint fishing villages (and cities - that we largely avoided). Interestingly, each region appears to have its own beer ‘brews’. The blue background pic spells out where Bruce’s allegiances lie.
While we spent time each day in the car, we didn’t travel far and spent a heap of time outside the car (walking). In fact, while we
may have driven (say) 40 miles in a day (65km) - as the crow flies we may have only travelled 20miles (30km) in distance. So, think of us buzzing around the same area, driving from location to location - and spending time at each to admire / investigate / enjoy / etc. Or, in so many cases, doing some serious walking.
This week was also a B&B week: meaning that we chose to stay at B&B’s rather than hotels or motels , etc. We found the variety of offerings not only better suited us, but that the hospitality (and breakfast) very enjoyable. We also found that those in cities were standardised, but those away from cities/big towns - especially the farm B&B’s - offered so much more such that the stay became a feature in itself.
As always, if you want to 'see' more detail in an accompanying picture,
click it to enlarge.
Day 7 (Sunday)
The day opened to wind, rain, and icy temperatures. We’d roughly planned to have a look at a couple of icons in the CBD before departing London; but, we cancelled that due to the ‘weather’. While we
Thames River
Including St Pauls Cathedral didn’t appreciate the cold, the strong winds and driving rain, we dismayed at the mass removal of autumn leaves. When looking out of the window of the East Dulwich apartment (of our friends) and across a large park, we could see now almost bare trees and piles of coloured leaves banking against seats and similar barriers. Clearly, the colour of Autumn appeared over for this journey.
We bade our farewell’s, and ventured into the London traffic. With our netbook ’hooked’ into google-map on her knee, Judy directed Bruce through the maze of streets onto the peri-urban freeways to ’escape’ the traffic. In the process, we passed through many places with familiar names; Lambeth, Pimlico, Belgrave, Westminster, Knightsbridge, Mayfair, Hyde Park, Kensington, Paddington… And, we passed buses with destination names straight out of Monopoly; Marlebone, Waterloo, Whitechapel, Euston, to name but a few. To us, it was a sort of ‘live’ Monopoly.
After getting ourselves ’sorted’ onto the motorway, and needing fuel, we took an off-ramp - that said Slough. But, as we entered the round-a-bout at the end of the off-ramp we took a wrong turn and finished up at the front gate of Windsor Castle. The flag
was flying so Liz was home. What a big place that is. Being there, we visited Runnymede (see Salisbury, below). After fuelling the car, we fuelled ourselves. The place was ’jumping’, but luckily we got a table. We later learnt that Sunday lunch is a major ’outing’ for the Brits, and most ’establishments’ don’t bother opening for dinner. We kept driving west and called it a day at the Cotswolds (staying at a B&B at Wootton Bassett).
Day 8 (Monday)
We left Wootton Bassett with a clear sky but cold wind. Our first ’destination’ was Avebury. The ‘attraction’ was to see the Celtic stones and associated medieval history. Unlike Stonehenge where tourists can only look from a distance, the Avebury ’stones’ are accessible, We were awestruck to learn that surrounding the stone circle (about 1 km across), the Celts had dug a huge 20m deep ditch (and some 30m wide) all the way around like a moat - not with steel implements but wooden shovels (steel was not then ‘discovered‘). Despite the sun, the wind was freezing us, we knew then that we’d have to get some warmer clothes.
Taking the by-ways rather than
Avebury 'Stones'
This is just a small segment of a huge circle highways, we headed for Lacock, and its Abbey. Here is a period town, with tight lanes, ancient looking houses set higgedly-piggledy throughout the place. After a wander though, we headed for Corsham, and Corsham Court; a privately owned ‘estate’ with manicured lawns, peacocks, and a massive sandstone edifice. Unlike Australia, the affluent Brits know how to express their wealth. As the day was fast disappearing (its dusk at 4:30), we booked ourselves into a delightful farmstay B&B near Box. As we were to discover the next day, this farm comprised some 400 acres, and though the ‘owners’ had retired and used contractors to ‘farm’, their farm was also a TV sitcom set for a period drama. The workers’ cottages looked real till one tapped on the (mock) stone walls to hear the polystyrene sound. The B&B owners sent us round to South Wraxall to the Red Lion (every 3rd town has a Red Lion) for a delightful meal.
Day 9 (Tuesday)
Sadly, the day opened up wet (and cold), and on this day we’d planned to visit Bath. Oh, well, the good with the bad. We drove to Bathford, parked the car and caught a
bus (acting on advice that Bath has minimal parking). Glad we did as the traffic jams were by-passed by the bus (in bus lanes). Arriving to a wet, windy Bath, we headed for the Pump House and the Roman baths ’museum’. Given the airconditioned warmth and dryness, we readily handed over the 22 quid (A$45) entry fee. Some few hours later, and far more ’educated’ on all things roman & (later Georgian), we left to a clear sky. We went looking for an Oxfam to find warm clothing. Though not the latest ’fashion’, we secured some 2nd hand overcoats & gloves. Phew, now we could be warm. After a cuppa and a pastie, we wandered around Bath central, to the Cathedral (
where Australia‘s 1st governor - Arthur Philip - is buried), the ’Circle’ and the ’Crescent’, to the gardens, before heading back to the bus station to return to Bathford.
On our way south, we ventured through Bradford-on-Avon, and were saddened we couldn’t spend more time in this delightful little town (makes bath look pretentious and cold). We’d ’booked’ a night at a B&B at Sutton Veny (near Warmister)) and wanted to be there before nightfall. The B&B was
delightful, and the owner suggested he book us a table at the Woolshed (the only eatery of note) to ensure we secured a meal. We gladly accepted, and sat to enjoy a cuppa as we chewed the fat. We toddled off at 6:30 only to find they didn’t take meal orders till 7pm. We’ve learnt that Brits tend to eat out latish, and 7:30-8 is the norm. We’d been advised to try the rack of lamb, and so ordered, only to be advised that the earliest it would be ’available’ would be 7:40.
Oh, well, many ales & ciders…. In fact, we’d found the British meals to be humungous in size, so we asked the staff whether we could share 1 entre, 1 main & 1 pudding -
only too glad to please. As the place also had a bar, we weren’t without company. We’ve come to enjoy the way pub drinkers are only too eager to enter into conversation with locals. In fact, we should change that. Where we’ve been travelling, nearly everyone has been so open to discussion - much much more friendly than Oz. During the conversation, we learnt that the village (Sutton Veny) was the site
of a large Australian military ‘camp’ in WW1, and that the local church held many Australian war graves; and that every year, Anzac day is a major event involving many from the area (including schoolchildren).
Day 10 (Wednesday)
First up we visited the church and war graves. We were struck by the number of graves where to soldier had died only weeks before armistice - how sad.
We headed to Salisbury, to take a peek at the Cathedral and a look around the town. Nice place, but on a cold, windy, and drizzly day, few places shine. The Cathedral is reputed to have the tallest spire, and internally is certainly imposing. What attracted us, though, is that it has one of the four copies of the Magna Carta - the forerunner to (national) constitutions, the rule of law, ownership of land, and the giving of unfettered freedom to all people. We learnt of the history leading up to the signing - which occurred at Runnymede near Windsor Castle - and that some 14 copies were made for each (then) county of England. Only 4 copies now remain. While the text is handwritten in Latin
on pigskin, it is really tightly written (
and not one error) and so ornate. We checked out the medieval hall (so old, yet still in active service), and the kings house (we don’t recall which king).
As the day was fast disappearing, we made tracks and stayed the night in a B&B in lovely late 18th century at Blandford Forum -
it was built by a wealthy landowner for the town church choraster who, also took in, cared for, and educated children for the choir). We went to the (advised) pub, and in our conversations were again delighted to hear “
what would make you come to Blandford, there’s nothing here” (meaning tourist attraction/s). Once over that ‘hurdle’, we were able to chat in depth about ‘their’ life. We’ve found that those not accustomed to tourists approach subjects quite differently - and for us, ‘tis more open and enjoyable.
Day 11 (Thursday)
Ah, a clear sky! But, as we so often hear
Sun at 7, rain at 11. We headed to the coast, at Poole (aside Bournemouth), and aside from noting the houses at Sandbanks (reputed to be the most expensive land in the UK)
we headed across Poole Harbour on a vehicular ferry to Studland Bay - a nature reserve ’owned’ by the National Trust. We are constantly amazed at the scale of National Trust operations. They are like our National Parks Service, Heritage Estate, and (our) National Trust all rolled into one. In the main, the services are undertaken by volunteers who really take their jobs seriously, and at most places, the quality of the tea rooms are 2nd to none. But, they also employ people in order to get tasks done. Their environmental management, and conservation agenda is admirable. Studland Bay reveals what English beaches were like before amusement and holiday ‘guest house’ operators overtook the foreshore and dictated how the foreshore be reconstructed into pedestrian promenades. Though clearly a ‘beach’ in the sense Australians perceive a beach (ie surf, etc) - more like an enclosed bay beach - it was still a nice experience to enjoy a ‘natural’ place.
After Studland Bay we headed further westwards, towards Swanage. Swanage is situated on the bay next to Studland bay and provided us with the commercial contrast to Studland bay. Nevertheless, Swanage isn’t icky commercial like other holiday destinations - in fact
it’s a small scale fishing port first, and small scale holiday town second. In many respects, it’s more cute than commercial. South of Swanage lies a 40km coastal walk (to Weymouth) that follows the start of the ’Jurrasic Coast’ ( a World Heritage site). It is so called because the sedimentary material was laid down at that time, and this coast material is host to considerable fossil remains (that get exposed at each major storm event).
We didn’t have time to do the walk (we visited parts along the way - as is described below), so we headed towards Corfe Castle for a peek. Here was a castle that was built on top of the best defence position in the region, and stood the test of time till the civil war. The region ’fell’ to the Cromwell Ian’s (Roundheads), then ‘retaken’ by King Charles 1st (Cavaliers), only to be retaken by Roundheads. To ‘end’ the matter, the Roundheads gun powdered the place (this became a widespread practice around the country), and thus ended a handsome castle
After Corfe we headed back towards the coast, at a place called Lulworth, where (relatively) soft rocks have been carved by storm
erosion into arch shapes. The most publicised being Durdle Door. With the day disappearing, we secured a B&B at Dorchester. Dorchester is the birthplace of
Thomas Hardy. And, dinner that night was in the ’new’ Thomas Hardy Hotel. A patron at the bar told us that a group existed in the region with long ancestry who have predicted a series of events (all apparently correct) and have long predicted the world as we know it would end on December 25 2012. The way such folk argue their case is interesting in that there appears some degree of credibility. We rest on the view that many before have spelled out gloom, only to be shown wrong. Nice barside chat, but!
Day 12 (Friday)
A cold drizzly day had us heading to Higher Bockingham (just outside Dorchester) to take a woodland walk to the house where hardy was born, and later wrote some of his texts. Given the era, the house was reasonably substantial (Hardy’s father was a builder). But, the walk in (semi)remote rural Dorset was delightful.
Heading south, we by-passed Weymouth to ’discover’ Portland. Here is a massive limestone outcrop jutting out to sea.
While the (quite white) limestone has long been used as a building material (eg. St Pauls Cathedral in London), it was also used to construct wharves in the harbour to deport convicts to Australia. For us, the bleak cold weather matched the bleak cold treeless landscape that (now) is Portland. While it used to house the Navy, and had big gun emplacements, these have now been converted into a prison. So, a bleak cold treeless landscape with miles of barbed wire fences said much.
The peninsular that is Portland, is also a ’stop’ for a stone beach. Leading west, a 25 km long ridge of beach stones (from pebble sized to hand sized) some 15 metre high forms the ‘beach’. It’s weird to not only walk on these stones (its hard to get a footing), but also to watch waves crash onto the stones and the water almost immediately disappear. On the ‘inland’ side, there is a long lagoon that those with wisdom have reserved for nature. We were impressed with the obvious variety of wildlife.
With the day quickly fading, we found a B&B at Chideock. The owners advised we try the
pub at Seatown. A few miles toward the coast on a very narrow, high hedged by-way (interesting night time driving effect), and what a ‘find’. The seafood was delightful, and the chef used magic to turn the portions of shellfish into scrumptious dinner. Washed down with ale (B) and cider (J) and with good company, it was hard to leave, but sleep beckoned.
Day 13 (Saturday)
The day began with a patchy sky, and still cold. We headed further west to Lyme Regis. This town is scenic and popular. We felt it too touristy for us - no real local energy into which we could feel comfortable. So we made tracks and decided to kill kilometres to Cornwall. Along the way, we visited Exeter (the administrative heart of Devon), and took a stroll around the CBD. What an inspiring city; not only was it a Roman city, but in recent decades also an affluent one (and it shows). We’d read the Cathedral was worth a visit, and we were unprepared for what we came to encounter. Having seen a few Cathedrals, design-wise this was ‘up there’ amongst the top. But, that wasn’t ’it’ for us.
Unbeknown to us, a children’s choir was assembling for rehearsal. As we explored the interior, a most enjoyable youthful sound emerged. We gravitated to the source, to find about 100 children aged between 8 and 10, singing their hearts out. We stayed and enjoyed. We felt privileged at the feelings we enjoyed; we felt few in the world get to experience an 800 year old Cathedral filled with the sweet sounds of youthful harmony.
Outside the Cathedral, large (uncluttered) lawns divide the grounds from the Georgian CBD. The ’space’ was fully utilised, giving us a feeling of community engagement - not often does this space/structure work, but it does so very well here.
While we could readily have stayed in Exeter, the pricing was a tad too high (for us), and we’d found we preferred the more rural ‘hospitality’ So, we headed for Dartmoor (called a forest, but we found the forest had been removed by the Celt ‘invaders’ some 500bc. Since, the elevated hills have been kept as heathland (and dominated with bracken fern). We camped overnight at Moretonhampstead (imagine having to give that as a town address), and were directed to an amazingly good pub/restaurant. Saturday
night was the town’s Guy Fox night revelry, and while we entertained the idea of joining the torchlight ’procession’ to the bonfire and watch fireworks, the heavy-ish rain dampened any of our enthusiasm.
Day 14 (Sunday)
We continued our foray across Dartmoor and arrived at Princeton, home of the Dartmoor Prison. This is so Dickensian. The heavy, dark stone buildings look exactly like a Victorian era workhouse, and we later learned that no heating is provided. Depressing!! Especially since the Brits consider themselves educated and ’enlightened’!!!
After traversing Dartmoor, we headed to Lydford to take a walk in the gorge. Here, examples of tin mining showed us how hard it would have been for miners in those days - 19th century. Nevertheless, the long walk on a cold, cold day in a very damp forest was invigorating and enjoyable. Needing to rest our head, we headed to the coast and found a B&B at Looe (pronounced Loo): in Cornwall.
Day 15 (Monday)
The B&B overlooked Looe harbour (and town) and with a cloudless sky, we really appreciated the view. Heading off, we decided to take the by-ways along the
coastline. First was Polperro, then Bodinnick, to take the chain ferry across the river (estuary) to the really pretty town of Fowey - set on the side of a high-ish hill, with narrow one-way streets (too narrow for truck access) , countless twists and turns, it really had the feel of a fishing village with perhaps a smuggler past. As the sun still shone, we decided to forego doing a good walk, and sought to visit as many places as possible while the sun shone.
A quick trip past St Austell via St Ewe had us in Gorran Haven, another quaint seaside village. Again, one entered by driving down a steep valley to arrive at the village. We walked along the short but clean sandy beach, onto the cob (block breakwater), and decided a Cornish pastie and a cuppa was in order. The day continued with seaside village after seaside village - some with perhaps 50 houses, others with just a few - but all scenically delightful. All had challengingly narrow streets set on steep hillsides. We reflected on how life would have been prior to motorised transport, heating oil, and modern medicine.
Along one area of coast,
a (modern built) castle signalled an estate. But, the area of this estate, coupled with the apparent number of employees, suggested a two tier cultural system. Here it was apparent that the estate owner had ordered that pheasant were not to be taken by locals (employees). The birds were everywhere!
The time had come to seek a B&B, and with minimal cash in hand we went to an ATM in St Mawes. Imagine how sickened we were to find that the wallet with credit cards was missing. We had about 40 quid - not even enough for B&B, perhaps not even for dinner (St Maws is a posh place). Bruce approached an upmarket hotel, explained the situation, and that all the credit card details were held on our computer. To our utter relief, the manager accepted us, and we secured a dinner, bed & breakfast deal (including a grog tab). Later in the evening, Judy exclaimed
”In this luxury, I’m not yet feeling any pain!!!”. Suffice to say we didn’t sleep too well that night.
Day 16 (Tuesday)
While we cancelled two cards, there were two we had relied on and felt it worth
backtracking to places where Bruce had scrambled over fences etc.,
just in case (once cancelled, that’d be the end). After about 2 hours of visiting the various places, we reached Gorran Haven. Thinking Bruce may have dropped the wallet in the teashop, he asked
We were here yesterday and had a cuppa, did you happen to find a little black wallet?” The reply came back
”what was in it?… credit cards… What name? Bruce Moon. With immense emotion welling up inside us, we realised our holiday was back on track!!
In some respects, the rest of the day is a blur. The pain of worrying about how to access our funds had been immense.
Nevertheless, we’d heard Lizard (peninsula) was worth a look, so we ventured there. The day was blustery, cloudy and increasingly looking gloomy, so we took the opportunity to go walking along the very rugged coastline. Only one word sums up the feeling - invigorating, and another the scenery - stunning.
We stayed the night at a B&B at Marazion, around the corner from Penzance. Penzance is a holiday seaside town, and the end of the rail line. Drab aptly describes the place, and
St Michaels Mount (causeway)
Looking from St Michaels Mount across causeway to Marazion it’d be like that on a bright sunny day!!!
Marazion is where one can access to St Micheal’s Mount. A church was built on top of this rocky mount in the 5th century (later rebuilt in immense glory in the 11th century) and access is via boat, except at low tide for about one hour and across the sand. We cracked it to be low tide, so took a stroll. Impressive, but a hard life would have been had.
Day 17 (Wednesday)
Lands End was beckoning. But, it was also a very cold blustery and darkly grey day. We came across the ‘Merry Maidens’, the recent name given for the complete Celtic circle still standing. It was exciting to stand in a wild Cornish meadow, being blasted by an icy wind, knowing we’d not be disturbed by other tourists, and romanticise what life may have been like 2000 years ago in a Celtic community. Nearby lay a stone topped burial ground. Later in the day we went to another Celtic stone ’set up’, this time, a large slab of rock perched on four rock uprights. For us, that such monuments exist after decades of
british upheaval says much.
We came across an amphitheatre built by a very strong willed lady between the 2 world wars. The amphitheatre looks out over the Atlantic ocean, and the audience are treated to a rock stage with an ocean backdrop. The Minack (amphi)theatre has become iconic and has been developed from strength to strength by the local community since the death of the founder (Rowena Cade). Judy would love to return in summer and witness Shakespeare in such surroundings.
Lands End is a nightmare. The whole headland has been sold off to commercial interests, and intending visitors must pay dearly to enter the site. Suffice to say we were not enthused. We instead ventured to (nearby) Cornwall Cape, which divides both the Atlantic Ocean and the North Sea. There, we read on a National Trust info board that many say it is Cornwall Cape that sailors would first sight; and the cape should be renamed Lands End.
The day progressively became worse until it became just a bleak, windy, rainy day. In some respects, the bitter weather gave us an insight as to the bleak conditions Cornish miners lived in while chasing tin and other
metals in the various mines along the rugged coastline.
We had a look at St Ives, and on a sunny day, this yuppie place would be great. But, with bleak rain, we decided to head north and get some miles under our belt.
We found a B&B Inn with a restaurant near Launceston (pronounced lornston) and we celebrated Judy’s 60th in style and comfort.
Day 18 (Thursday)
Overnight, the weather had only marginally improved so we decided to visit Bude (reputed to be the surf capital!!!). While the wind only produced chop, there appeared no basic swell to form a break, We toyed with the idea of following the coast road north, but scotched that because coastal views really don’t cut it in bleak conditions.
We chose to head east to Exeter and onto the M5 northbound motorway. We found there appeared no speed limit, and cranked the Ford Fiesta (hire car) to the same speed as the majority. We were surprised that, even with wind, that the Fiesta appeared very comfortable cruising at 100mph (160kph). At this speed, we were able to ‘kill’ miles quickly.
Past Bristol, but before Gloucester,
Bude (surf) Beach
This area is reputed to be one of the best surf beaches in England there is a little village called Wootten-Under-Edge where judy’s great-grandfather had served some time as a Congregational church minister. Judy wanted to explore.
Wootten-Under-Edge (meaning Wootten
under the edge of an escarpment) sits at one side of an open shallow farming valley dotted with small villages. We parked and found the Wootten Heritage Centre, and entered with great hope to find info on the name Gannaway. Sadly not. We had to go the Gloucester to the Historical Records Office for this info. We then sought info on the Congregational Church; nope, nothing. A quick search of literature on display revealed that the church known as the Tabernacle, was in fact, operated by the Congregational Church. We learned that the Church (building) was backed onto by a large house (presbytery), and there was a school building across the road. We also learnt that the main religious focus was to provide alms to the poor, and to that there existed several poor houses alongside the church. The church and school building have been occupied as a 2nd hand furniture shop, and we were unable to determine when the Church activities actually ceased.
At Gloucester, we were greatly helped at the
Family History Unit, and learnt of Great-grandfather’s wedding to Emma Mary and details of those children born at Wootten. We explored at the ’central office’ and learnt a little about the church. But, we had to return the next day to see records pertaining to the church.
In the dark, raining night, we tried to navigate ourselves out of Gloucester to a B&B at Snig’s End, Corse. After an hour going round in circles in traffic jams, we eventually arrived at our destination. A recommendation to a pub that we’d never have found without a detailed diagram, ensured we had a convivial evening and basic, good country food.
Day 19 (Friday)
Another dreary day, so a late start to the Historical Records Office. The records we’d sought were helpful, but less than we’d hoped. Nevertheless, Judy was happy to get the info she did.
We’d heard that Cheltenham was attractive. Just up the road from Gloucester, we did the 9 miles and took park’n’ride into town. These facilities are great; the rice reasonable, and the bus frequency good. Cheltenham ‘emerged’ about the same time as the Bath renaissance (ie 250 years ago), also as
Somerset roadscape
Throughout Dorset, Cornwall, Devon & Somerset, autumnal colours painted the landscape a spa town. But unlike Bath, the roads of Cheltenham were designed on a grand scale. And, the buildings were built on an even grander scale. This city reeks affluence. With the very wide footpaths, the centre (especially the Promenade) is easily and enjoyably walkable. We found the ambience, the scale, the atmosphere of Cheltenham far superior to Bath, and even in a gloomy cold day, a delight to visit. This is one place that should be very high on every tourist’s list.
We left Cheltenham for a rural B&B, and a special dinner - it being our 39th wedding anniversary.
So, till the next episode…
- - - -
😊
ps
This journey is presented as a 3 part series (saga?).
You can move to the next 'episode' by scrolling back to the top and 'clicking' on NEXT.
Alternatively, link to ...
http://www.travelblog.org/Europe/United-Kingdom/blog-454989.html 😊
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