Leigh Common

Sat 12 Jul '26 PC, JB, DL, CH, JS & Albus

We set off early from the Leigh Common area near the Hunters Lodge Inn, heading  north-east away from the main road towards the edge of the historic Selwood Forest. Following  the designated footpath signs heading toward the Stavordale Estate. The path quickly transitions from open grassy margins into a gradual incline framed by a lush canopy of ancient oak, beech, and hazel trees. Keeping an eye out for early morning wildlife, as deer are frequently spotted moving between the treelines. Here Albus went off to explore the area.  Not managing to catch a second breakfast he re-joined the concerned group that comprised of DL,CH,JS,JB and PC. 

As we continued along the main woodland track, the route climbs steadily up the ridge line towards the village of Pen Selwood. The trail breaks out of the dense forest into undulating farmlands, offering beautiful, sweeping views across the borders where Somerset, Dorset, and Wiltshire meet. Paying attention to our footing over some of the older, slightly wobbly stiles bordering the livestock fields. Following the rising path until we reached the tranquil, picturesque village centre, marked by the historic parish church.

Climbing up over Ballands Castle—the remains of an early medieval motte-and-bailey earthwork—and pass near the peaceful local nature reserve at Moldram’s Ground. The path descends gently via quiet, narrow paved lanes, where you can normally enjoy excellent birdsong before looping back south toward the forest tracks. Today the air was filled with the sound of Flourless Bread recipes and how many counties are not blessed with a motorway? (The correct answer is nine).

This is a good spot to leave a stick. An ancient tradition especially popular in the Peak District.

Re-entering the cover of Pen Forest, following the broad downhill tracks that cut through the old woodland boundaries. The final stretch is a relaxed, downhill stroll that led us directly back to the edge of Leigh Common, tracking straight into the welcoming grounds of the pub just as the morning heat began to ramp up.

The main draw for the hungry hikers was their unlimited breakfast buffet (£10.95), which includes a classic full English selection (butcher's choice sausages, bacon, eggs, hash browns, and mushrooms) along with unlimited toast, cereals, juices, tea, and coffee.

The walk report according to Albus:

I knew it was happening the moment he made the boot noise. Not the car boot noise — the human boot noise. The heavy sigh, the bend, the grunt, the one-legged wobble against the wall. This is the ancient song of Walk.

I was placed in the boot of the car, which is where important expedition leaders travel. The air was full of useful information: dry grass, old leaves, a distant pond, and — most thrillingly — food stalls. I pressed my nose to the world and began taking notes with my face. The humans looked at the produce, but NOTHING came my way. Is that John McClane in the vest? I last saw him on a box in the front room.

On the lead for a little while and then freedom. Once released, I performed the standard checks: left verge, right verge, mystery clump, suspicious post, excellent puddle. Then came a delicate administrative matter. He looked at me. I looked at him. There was a little plastic bag. There was also a stick. Humans like to pretend these are difficult choices. Stick it was!

Then I saw it. A squirrel, I think. A tiny tree criminal with a tail like a feather duster and absolutely no respect for the chain of command. The humans are talking about some nonsense or other. An opportunity not to be missed!  Naturally, I launched a formal investigation at speed. They call my name several times, which I understood to mean, “Excellent work, continue.”

At the low gate, I assessed the obstacle with great seriousness. I could, of course, have cleared it with majestic ease. I normally allow assistance because humans need to feel useful. It’s amazing how just standing and looking sad can affect even the hardest of humans.  Expecting to be lifted over, I am somewhat disappointed.  No lift today. Must be the heat.

At the sugary stop, in the shade. Sit, pant and look hopeful. No joy. Off we go down a stoney track, Mr McClane in front. Where is my human? There was however, a serious breach of procedure: he forgot the stick. Not just any stick. The stick.

Still, I am generous. I was prepared to overlook the stick matter because the food-stall smell had grown louder. Sausage was nearby. Sausage was possible. Sausage was, in my professional opinion, inevitable.

Then she appeared. His wife. Determined expression. Car keys. Before negotiations could begin, I was back in the boot, watching the sausage opportunity retreat into history.

I made one final note with my nose against the glass: next time, bring the stick, respect the squirrel protocol, and never — never — leave before the sausage.