7th May , Tolbury to Green’s Combe and back; RW, TO, PC, Scrumpy and Bill
I’ve never heard such a collection of lame excuses since I left school… we didn’t have “the dog ate my homework” or “Mum’s gone in for a vasectomy” but we had pretty much everything else. Once I had offered to lead a walk and Trevor joined me we might as well have been selling tickets on the Titanic. Well, we may have been reduced to three desperadoes but spirits were high and the weather gods smiled on us as we met up in Bruton High Street for a walk in the unfamiliar combes just north of the town in the direction of Batcombe.
We parked the car outside Bruton Primary School, where those old lame excuses were trotted out 50 years ago when Mr Roberts punished offenders with the cane, Mr Short whacked people with the yard ruler and Mr Kerrison used the slipper… happiest days of your life? It remains a beautiful school grounds and externally very familiar even today.
We passed the school entrance and then turned into Higher Tolbury lane. We paused to admire the view across to George Osborne’s lovely old house, once occupied by the journalist and author Jacky Gillot who “discovered” Bruton back in the 70s in much the same way as the current literary and artistic crowd from London has. She wrote very affectionately about Bruton in her book Providence Place and died rather sadly in Pitcombe. We headed out along the road which turns into a wooded pathway. Strengthening sunshine filtered through the trees to pick out the stunning blues of the native bluebells. At the end of this track you can drop down to On The Brook which was previously known as Combe Farm…my dad kept some beehives here in the good old days.
We did not drop down to On the Brook but joined the road to Milton Clevedon (B3081) for a short stretch. Thankfully there was no traffic due to the ongoing road closure programme round Bruton so we crossed safely into a field to our right and soon headed downhill on one of those paths inside hedges which seem more common in Somerset than elsewhere. At the bottom we crossed a stream by a narrow little bridge and here the path forked with an option to head over to Green’s Combe or to head up hill in a very carefully demarcated path fenced off for us by the landowner. We took the high road which heads more or less due north and at this point Trevor’s decision to wear a sturdy jumper fashionable amongst Cornwall’s fishermen began to take its toll as we trudged up a steepish gradient but enjoying some wonderful views across towards Whaddon Farm with Pink Wood in the far distance.
Having crossed a ploughed field we reached the road from Bruton to Batcombe just where it descends Snakelake Hill. There was some grumbling about going up and down a lot but this soon disappeared when we turned into a lovely wooded stretch with a stunning carpet of wild garlic in full flower. We attempted to capture this with our entry level photography skills. There was a gurgling brook for the dogs to refresh themselves as well. At the end of the wood we met the only tricky stile on the entire walk…because it was lacking the step section. Adrian would love that challenge.
Climbing through lush grass, we crossed a couple of stiles and reached a gate into Henley Grove Farm. I set off confidently following the path through the farmyard, with Scrumpy on the lead as a precaution against loose poultry, when I realised my companions were hanging back. As usual, they were expecting me to cop any flak for trespass. As I knew the footpath ran through the yard and respectful walkers are welcome, I waved them to catch up and walked passed two huge open sided barns where dozens of beautiful friesian calves were lolling around. The local guys said hello and we passed happily through onto a lane which led from the farm up to Copplesbury Lane.
There is a cross roads where Copplesbury Lane meets the main road from Bruton to Batcombe and someone has thoughtfully provided a bench to sit and relax and a booklet attached to a tree recounting the history of the crossroads which is called Hedgestocks. This was at one time an important thoroughfare and the site of a macabre gibbet in centuries gone by. Time was pressing now so no one stopped to sit and read but we pressed on until we reached a sign to the left taking us to Higher Green’s Combe Farm, where well-bred horses are stabled. There are two or three superb properties in this little stretch. Passing these houses to our right, we went through a gate and came to the most spectacular view of the day…down into Green’s Combe with Creech Hill to our right.
Gently descending the coombe on the footpath we came to the Lower Green’s Combe farmstead.
In the good old days this was occupied by the eccentric spinsters Vera and Florrie Collins who not only tolerated my father keeping another colony of beehives on their land, but happily permitted generations of Sexey’s pupils to camp there and carry out ACF training exercises under the watchful eye of Dave Hill and Dan Bull. A lot of restoration work is underway and no doubt it was needed.
Eventually it will be a magnificent private home with secluded stable-block etc but something was lost when the tradition of hospitality at Green’s Combe died with the sisters.
We passed in front of the house, pausing to take in the gorgeous setting and then walked along the private driveway until cutting off to the left and meeting our outward route. We then retraced our steps through the hedge-path, passed Combe Farm and so to Tolbury and the car.
En route, we had discussed the lack of suitable breakfast cafes in Bruton and after checking that Cat’s Café ironically had a no pets policy, we picked up some extra supplies and went to Phil’s house for a slap up feed sitting in his beautiful garden. The Bruton Bellringers were clanging away merrily in the back ground as we celebrated a successful walk in good company.
