From London to North Hill

The platform at Bishops Lydeard

Planning for this walk started a few months after the conclusion of the previous walk along the North Norfolk coast path, long enough for the worst blisters, most acute joint strains and most painful memories to have worn off. What can we do next? I know… The germ of this idea was plentifully watered when we found the South West Way Association guide book on sale in the South Brent visitor centre on Dartmoor. Next came membership of the SWWA and the guide book detailing the Minehead to Padstow section. We packed our rucksacks the night before – much trouble with sleeping bags and carrymat. But they seemed more manageable than before when we had despaired of lifting them. Train tickets were all pre-booked Super Apex fares for maximum cheapness. But this meant we couldn’t miss our train. We were very hot and bothered by the time we got to the station and caught the train with a few minutes to spare. We spent most of the train journey trying to beat our rucksacks into submission.

Modern life is rubbish

Are we there yet...?

We got to Reading and could not find which train we should be on. This was a terrible problem as we only had valid tickets for the one train. No signs to indicate where trains left from plus an unhelpful guard who was reported on our return. After running up and down escalators in a desperate hurry we took a gamble on one particular train we saw pulling in – and were right. We settled down for a good journey with a big bag of goodies from the buffet. Lisa was reading the political memoirs of Emma Nicholson, Andy a fantasy novel. We started to get the usual funny looks associated with backpacking. The journey ended at Taunton with a short walk over the road to the familiar bus stop for Minehead but this time we got off early at Bishop’s Lydeard for the West Somerset Railway and a steam train. The bus driver waited very helpfully while we dealt with our rucksacks. We caught the bus in drizzle and arrived in rain. Was this a sign? The short answer was yes, emphatically yes…

An affinity for diesel

This is what it looks like when the steam is running...

We arrived at the station to discover an enthusiasts’ diesel weekend in progress instead of steam trains which put Andy in an immediate bad mood exacerbated by the fact he was sold a return ticket instead of a single. A classic example, we decided, of not leaving work at work when first going on holiday. The line and carriages still have all their charm whether you have a steam or a diesel engine. After the journey, which was as pleasant as usual, we climbed off the train at Minehead where the rain was so severe we dived into a seafront diner, for a big heap of fried food, dallying as long as we could justify. Then it was on with the waterproofs to be greeted with blank stares from the other diner occupants and teenage staff, and off up the hill.

Tighten those straps

Room for one more standing...

We walked along to the harbour and paused for a period of rucksack adjustment and consultation of the map board there. It was hard to believe we were finally setting out on the path. We were soon climbing steeply up a zigzag path and were pleased to go past the sign which announces Exmoor National Park. We were surprised to find some parts of Minehead we had still not discovered after years of holidays there. We were climbing through scenery which was almost tropical with dripping vegetation and rhododendrons mixed with native trees. We soon climbed high above the town and learned a few essential truths about why breathable waterproofs are worth the money. As the path advances up North Hill it starts to go out along the coast but we had a very odd walk with the sea screened off entirely by fog. We could hear it but not see it. We followed the path for some time before taking a long diversion inland to reach the North Hill campsite which is one of our favourites.

A fine view from the top

Minehead seafront: the old (inaccurate) sign

It was pretty unchanged as were the couple who run it. We popped over to the shop to book in, make telephone calls and stock up on supplies. We worried about the possibility of heavy rain and so were eager to get the tent up as fast as possible after some procrastination over where to put it. Many of the most desirable spots are reserved for camper vans as this seems to be the only way for the site to make money. We got into the tent and our caterpillar sleeping bags and, feeling pretty satisfied not to be out in the rain, ate some strangely reconstituted almond curry with rice made from powdery stuff in a tinfoil pack. Very nice indeed but not the slightest hint of curry about it. Unfortunately we had pitched the tent between two bushes – it seemed like a good spot at the time – at a hopeless angle so gravity ensured two people and two rucksacks all slept on the same spot.