High Littleton Walk
Wednesday 25th May – High Littleton
Walk Leader: Patsy & Lucy
Description
From Star Inn on the A39 in High Littleton we will head north through High Littleton and down a field across a bridge, bordered by two gates and head up the valley, with beautiful mature trees all around, crossing the B3115 towards Ridings farm.
We now climb up the sleight with its wind turbines, the climb up the sleight is on a steep farm track, but offered far-reaching views from the top. Then across the ridge, which was on a farm track, but no livestock in sight. We head down off the farm and towards Tyning, through Timsbury, and down Mill Lane to pick up the Limestone Link. Mill Lane was stoney, and needed care, but could be slippery if wet, so we advise walking poles. The descent down the stony part of Mill Lane offered the greatest challenge.
Heading West by the Somersetshire coal canal path – another rock-hard, dry-mud footpath - we eventually cross the only stile (sturdy metal bars, beside a locked gate) and make our way back up the fields and lanes to High Littleton.
Report
The dark clouds threatening rain over High Littleton that Wednesday morning saw a group of 14 stalwart Wells U3A Walkers gather in the bleak light of the Star Inn to prepare for an assault on the surrounding hills and dales. Patsy, the group’s indefatigable leader, welcomed two new members to the group – Audrey and John . She described the route of just over five miles, up and down hills and dales, and along reminders of bygone industries. Drawing on diligent research Patsy recalled some of the history of High Littleton, explaining that one of the men generally acknowledged to be the father of modern geology, William Smith, hailed from here. Lucy, the vigilant back-marker, collected the walk fees of £1 and, in keeping with custom, granting a gratis introduction to the newcomers.
Following the leader into the High Street, the busy A39 Bath Road, and heading for the countryside the walkers came across a pointer to High Littleton’s past – a house with a legend carved on a high up stone – 1775 The Old Porters House. Soon, turning into a lane leading into a sprouting wheat field, footpath hidden, to a footbridge camouflaged by foliage crossing an almost dried up brook. Beyond to rising park land meadow dotted with majestic tall imposing beech, birch and sycamore trees.
Up and up ascending a steep incline to three wind turbines at the top, their blades reluctantly moving to the insistence of the light breeze, prompting Roger to marvel at the wonders of aerodynamics. Then stepping over more fields with more magnificent trees all watched by curious languid cows and three frisky calves. On then to fields through meadow buttercups, cow parsley and campion, and of nervous ewes and lambs bleating noisily. Approaching a ridge with the promise of glorious panorama over the Somerset landscape only to find the rain and the mist obscuring the vista.
Passed doughty horned sheep, down gradually to the valley below to ponder the industry of yore as the derelict old coal canal cuts across the valley floor, dry mostly with some ponds here and there boasting water buttercups and bullrushes. What must have been the old towpath, once trod by straining barge-hauling horses, led to a well-preserved weed covered stone arched bridge, framing a preponderance of tall yellow irises beyond, where the once busy mooring basin lay. Here John mused the joys of cycling and the French language. Again, lashing bursts of rain belted down to ease to gentler precipitations and return.
Now through green fields to soon see again human settlement of the village of Timsbury. Through the churchyard of St. Mary’s Church, backroads bordered by front and back gardens, proud flowered, to more countryside, a rising terrain and, to paraphrase Wordsworth, o’er vales and hills or rather meadow, when all at once we saw not a host of golden daffodils but a bright carpet of yellow buttercups. One or two paths later with the rain stopping, to the pleasing prospect of the coming journey’s end, crossing the recreation ground of High Littleton, wearily ambling along two or three more streets and downhill to the welcoming warmth and dry of the Star Inn and the partaking of mine hostess Liz’s excellent victuals and refreshments, with Audrey telling tales of missionary life in Zimbabwe.
Post scriptum: Sadly the road back to Wells had been closed during the walk due to a fatal road accident on Bristol Hill.
Report by Stan