Saturday 18th February’23. Nunney DH, RW, PCL, DL, Sully & Scrumpy
Being the end of half term week unfortunately there were less than 50% of the regulars available for todays walk, but the four stalwarts from Bruton and Wincanton arrived at the old quarry car park at Nunney within a couple of minutes of each other. Despite enjoying the spring like weather earlier in the week this morning was a typical grey and miserable February offering, with a light misty drizzle in the air. Following the usual friendly morning greetings, at which Dereyk was asked if last weeks sexual urges had subsided (I think/hope the question was being asked about Albus) we exited the car park to pick up the footpath on the far side of the off road cycling area. Phil had been relating his Ukrainian story to Richard on the journey up and so retold portions of it as we made our way along the muddy track, although I’m still not sure what’s connects a Ukrainian and her mother, the Canaries, a banker and Bruton? Apart from the Clackson family of course. All the while Richard had been worrying about what happened to his big end! Did he in fact still have one?
With many questions unanswered we followed along the pathway until it opened up into a large field scattered with cross country horse jumps as we made our way down to the river.
The route across the ford had been fenced off recently but the gate to the side allowed us passage over a small bridge and into the riverside area where more horse jumps, looking like hen coops, were scattered around. Sully was keen to be back on a riverside walk again although Scrumpy kept her distance on the river banks. Small clumps of snowdrops were scattered all over the area, some coming through the grass and others in large clumps in the wooded areas by the river. Phil, being the groups botanical correspondent, told us about the annual snowdrop festival that is held in nearby Shepton Mallet each year, and is the birthplace of James Allen who is recognised as the first person to breed snowdrops from the wild. We also heard about the towns planting scheme which has so far contributed around half a million bulbs in gardens and community areas, some of which have been more expensive than others. With a large bank of flowers behind us we paused for this weeks selfie and once everyone had taken their own photographs of the amazing display we headed on downstream, through yet more glorious drifts. The sun was still struggling to break through the clouds and the many drifts of snowdrops were still not fully open but the sight of so many white flowers throughout the whole of the valley was truly one of the best sights we have come across in recent months.
We continued down the river until we came to a bridge and a finger sign indicating the path went over it. Unfortunately last time we came this way (Farewell to the Bulls) either we didn’t see it or chose to ignore it and carried on on the same side until we reached a high wall. Not wanting to repeat the mistake we crossed the bridge and continued down steam along the far bank, carefully stepping over exposed roots and pockets of mud that were a constant trip hazard. At the next bridge we recrossed the river and stopped to look at the wall over which we had scrambled last time. It certainly looks like we have not been the only ones to pass that way as the wall was considerably lower at that point and missing the moss covered stones that adorned the still standing higher parts of the wall. As the turn back up stream indicated we had reached the notional half way point, Dereyk cracked open a new bag of lollies which were kindly distributed amongst us.
Having left the wonderful wooded valley, our route back now took us around the edge and in places straight across farmed fields, and the sticky but slippery mud was certainly starting to slow us down a bit as it clung to our boots. The rain had stopped and we were treated to a complete bit feint rainbow at one point, and I think Sully thought he had struck gold a couple of fields later when he managed to do his usual Saturday morning roll in a large pile of used farmyard straw and associated muck. He was in his element but thankfully although no longer such a pale shade of retriever he didn’t smell too bad for his adventure. Once back in Nunney, a quick dip in the river cleaned off most of his undercarriage but he wouldn’t go in deep enough to get his back wet as usual.
We paused in a few point for the old ruins to to marvel at the old ruins of the castle, before taking a short cut over a narrow bridge, round by the side of our previous cafe, under new management and no longer serving breakfasts unfortunately, before wandering back up the hill to the car park.
At the side of the entrance was a memorial stone to Queen Elizabeth II with a delightful ring of snowdrops, a fitting end to todays 3.3 miles completed in just 95 minutes.
Once back in the cars we headed up to Nunney Transport cafe where we opted for a table under the window and selected our options from the extensive choices on the board. Making a welcome return was the option of tinned tomatoes and along with the bubble and squeak and a slice of black pudding each, another good value breakfast was enjoyed by all.
For those who don’t know the aforementioned ’big end’ joke, here is a shortened version -
A man was driving down the motorway on his way to a very important meeting when all of a sudden his car broke down. Not wanting to miss the meeting he started to walk to find help. In the distance he saw a big silver dome so he made his way to it for some help. He knocked on the door and a bloke in a white coat holding a clipboard opend the door. “Can i help you“? said the man.
”Well I’ve broken down and i need to get to a meeting, can you help me please”? “l’’d like to” the man said “but I’m a scientist and I don’t know nothing about cars to be honest. The only thing i can suggest is this. I’ve got a 40ft chicken I’m doing an experiment on currently that you can borrow, take it back to your car, tie it to the bumper and that will get you to your meeting in time”.
“OK thanks” the bloke says and off he goes back to his car. He ties the 40ft chicken to his bumper and starts on down the motorway again. The chicken is going like the clappers when all of a sudden the car jolts and the chicken breaks free and runs off.
So the bloke is stuck on the hard shoulder when the police arrive and come to his window and say “hello and what do we have ‘ere then?” ...the bloke says “officer, I’m so sorry to trouble you but it’s not my fault............... my big hens gone”!!!!!!!!
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