Lorna Doone Country: A Circular Walk up Badgworthy Water from Malmsmead
If there were a sort of Desert Island Discs for favourite walks, this splendid circular hike through the heart of Exmoor would feature on my list. The trouble is that, like an old Beatles hit, it would also be on the shortlists of a great many other West Country lovers...
But popularity cannot breed contempt when it comes to a fine walk in one of England's loveliest corners. Apart from the natural beauty of the place, just one name is responsible for its honeypot status – and it is the name of a girl who never existed.
Look in the visitors' book in Oare church and you'll find that she has packed them in from Milwaukee to Manchester, from Tokyo to Tennessee. They come because few names in literature evoke such a romantic sensation of place as that of Lorna Doone. Dear little Lorna didn't get about much, but spent most of her time moping sensuously around the Oare Valley and secretive, sensational Badgworthy Water.
This happens to be an exceedingly attractive corner in which to mope and, thankfully, the place hasn't changed much since R. D. Blackmore dreamed the whole thing up – give or take the odd car park and ice cream sign. As for Badgworthy Water, it hasn't changed at all – and as this hike follows it along almost its entire length, that's jolly good news indeed.
How to say Badgworthy – and why the valley is so special
Before I go on, I'm very keen on the proper pronunciation of place names – partly because I think such things should be preserved, and partly because I once, very embarrassingly, called Happisburgh on the Norfolk coast "Happizberg" in a documentary, and not "Haysborough" as, of course, it's pronounced. The correct way of saying Badgworthy is "Badgery".
There's something very special about Badgworthy Water. As anyone following it up from the sea will notice, it takes a deft right-hand turn at Malmsmead, separating it from the Oare Valley, which plods on to the east. By turning quietly and unobtrusively south, this lovely "mountain" stream becomes the very artery that flows from the huge and secret heartland of Exmoor.
I think this is what must partly have captivated Blackmore. That, and the legend that a band of unruly brigands once really did mooch about up here causing mayhem – having been chucked, like Blackmore's fictional Doones, out of Scotland.
The walk: up Badgworthy Water from Malmsmead
You will usually have to make your way through a throng of visitors milling about the packhorse bridge and ford at pretty little Malmsmead. Leave them behind by taking the lane towards Tippacott, and you'll soon find yourself on the old bridleway which meanders south into the vastness of the moor. If you're expecting to find yourself alone in one of the country's last wilderness areas, all I can suggest is patience: you will find solitude on this hike, but not for a while yet.
As you go, I hope you too will pick up on the sensation of entering somewhere secret and special as the riverside path leads you south into the bare flanks of the moor. This really is Exmoor without its clothes on – and by the time you reach Tom's Hill Barrows you'll know what I mean.
Apart from the ancient barrows themselves, and the remains of a medieval village which may or may not have been home to those Scottish brigands, there is very little to suggest that man ever managed to muck about with the place. No hedges, no buildings, no plantations – not a thing but clear flowing stream and virgin moor. OK, there's the odd jet roaring high above, and occasionally a military aircraft might pass you at what feels like eye level. But it is about as close to paradise as Exmoor gets.
Exmoor ponies on the open moor
As you round Great Tom's Hill to climb out over Manor Allotment, look out for Exmoor ponies roaming free on the moors. The breed is one of the oldest in Britain and is still listed as a priority breed by the Rare Breeds Survival Trust – there are only a few hundred breeding mares in the whole country.
The Exmoor is so well adapted to these boggy wastes that not even the harshest winter will send it scurrying down to the farmyards in search of food. There's a story that the farmer at Warren, just south of here, once hauled out some bales of hay to ponies almost submerged under deep snow, only to see them turn up their noses in favour of the food they could find for themselves by clawing away with their hooves.
Back over the moor to Oare church
Now we follow the path marked on the Ordnance Survey's OL9 map north across the moor to Oare, and from there back to Malmsmead. This path crosses as lonely a tract of countryside as any in the region – but you won't be lonely, at least not in spring and summer, as there'll be plenty of wheatears for company. These handsome little birds have the charming habit of bobbing along on every post or tussock in front of the walker, as if trying to show you the way.
And if the wheatears are doing whatever else wheatears do, there are a million skylarks up here, filling the moors with their mad, crazy song. There are so many you'd think they needed some sort of air-traffic control, especially when a hen harrier comes cruising along to send them all into an aerial frenzy. I've also seen redstarts flurrying about with great excitement in the woods down by the river.
Down at Oare, pop into the church and think of poor old John Ridd describing his marriage to the lovely Lorna at this very altar: "Darling eyes, the clearest eyes, the loveliest, the most loving eyes – the sound of a shot rang through the church, and those eyes were dim with death."
It was Carver Doone... But hang on – I won't spoil the end if, for some reason, you haven't yet read this excellent old yarn. Best cross the river to the footpath and follow Oare Water back down to Malmsmead.
A longer version: down Chalk Water to Robber's Bridge
On another visit I started at Oare and just kept going – that's what can happen when you're in a place of such extreme beauty. Having rounded Great Tom's Hill, I struck off north-east over Stowey Allotment and down Oldhay Ridge to Chalk Water, one of the most secret and beautiful of combes. Walking north beside its enchanting stream, you eventually emerge in the main Oare Valley close to Robber's Bridge, and from there it's a gentle stroll down the quiet lane back to Oare church. That makes a walk of about eight miles.
Lorna Doone Country walk: fact file
Start: Malmsmead, where there's a car park beside the packhorse bridge and ford, on the lane between Oare and Brendon.
Route: south up Badgworthy Water past Tom's Hill Barrows, round Great Tom's Hill, north over the moor to Oare, then back down Oare Water to Malmsmead.
Distance and going: about seven miles; easy going but boggy in places on the open moor. Take a map and compass if the cloud is down. The longer variation via Chalk Water and Robber's Bridge, starting from Oare, is about eight miles.
Map: OS Explorer OL9, Exmoor.
Don't miss: Oare church, where Lorna is shot on her wedding day in Blackmore's novel.
More walks in Doone Country
