It was a fine early Autumn morning as we assembled in the car park – everyone on time? Well, almost – we were one dog plus owner short. Where was Bill? Who knew that Langport offered a choice of car parks? Bill (and Trevor) had arrived in good time , probably early , and was happily parked up waiting for the rest of us…except that we were gathering in the main car park. This hiccup was resolved by the miracle of mobile phones and we set off together with a clear deadline in mind – breakfast service stopped at the café at 11 oclock.
What a great landscape for our death-defying group to walk through – no variation in altitude throughout other than an occasional stile to climb over. The route took us out of town alongside the meandering River Parrett which by this point has been joined by the Yeo and hence a major route for inland navigation in times gone by. The dogs enjoyed the freedom of the open footpaths and even Bill seemed rejuvenated to the extent of racing to catch up with Sully and Scrumpy.
In flat landscapes the sky seems to expand and stretch away into the blue yonder. Under this influence either our pace was slow or we had set ourselves too challenging a target as we chatted through six miles of beautiful open country dotted with a few very chilled cows. The area reminds me of my father’s birthplace in South Yorkshire where the Dutch reclaimed Thorne waste from its natural watery state. Indeed, we were crossing Middlemoor and the ‘rhynes’ criss-crossed the fields and fed into some interesting engineering features – sluices etc. In the distance I remember a view of a church standing on a low rise in the ground – always seems the Church built very wisely (before there was so much profit in building on the flood plane). At some point, it began to sink in that breakfast was in peril and the route was shortened and slower walkers left behind in the urge to get back for bacon rolls.
We were heading to the Great Bow Wharf where once the goods were embarked for foreign parts and supplies unloaded for local consumption. The warehouse of one Stuckey has become a charming riverside café. Stuckey himself founded a bank in Langport which went on to become a significant chunk of the National Westminster.
We staggered breathlessly into Stuckey’s old warehouse but found that the spirit of the old banker pervaded the modern café as we were told breakfast service had finished (even though we were there with seconds to spare). We made do with something or other not quite satisfactory but at least we avoided their speciality baked beans which had been inflicted on me on a previous visit.
Great walk – shame about the breakfast.
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