Natural stone pavements at Kilve beach It is arguably the most varied stretch of coast anywhere in Britain – or anywhere in Europe for that matter. The mighty littoral that caps this peninsula to the north begins at low lying shores of the Somerset Levels and climbs to England’s highest sea-cliffs before it eventually swings south to embrace some of the UK’s finest surfing beaches. Our journey along this extraordinary shore begins at the mouth of the River Parrett. Nothing much happens at lonely Steart, perched improbably on the flatlands by the muddiest estuary in the region. With its silos and chicken-sheds, Steart seems to be a village at the end of the world – and at the end of two fantastic rights-of-way: the West Somerset Coast Path and the River Parrett Trail. A great empty beach stretches around to Stolford where my old friend, the late Brendan Sellick, the mud-horse fisherman, used to make a living by going out across the deadly mudflats of Bridgwater Bay on his weird wooden contraption to catch unbelievably delicious shrimps. Travelling west, the coast between Hinkley Point nuclear power station and the village of St Audries is extraordinary to say the least. Tortured rock strata bends and twists in the cliffs, and vast limestone “pavements” stretch seawards in huge curves as if they were installed by artistic giants from some ancient race. The area is rich in fossils and is internationally renowned as a Site of Special Scientific Interest. My old friend, the late Brendan Sellick Watchet Harbour Watchet: A Port of Enigmas and Sea Shanties Next comes Watchet, an ancient port more full of enigmas and idiosyncrasies than most. It somehow has the feel of a community that has been scooped up lock-stock-and-barrel from the industrial north of England and deposited on the West Country coast. Nevertheless, it is a place of enormous charm. It boasts the largest museum collection of flat-bottomed boats anywhere in the world and has a church named after a saint who was thanked by locals for his preachings by having his head cut off. The town is supposed to be run by an ancient organ of local authority known as a Court Leet, but members only meet once a year and only then if a secret recipe rum punch is served. Watchet is famous as the final home and resting place of Yankee Jack, the mariner who gave us such shanties and songs as 'A Rovin', 'Rio Grande', 'Shenandoah', and 'The Sailor Likes His Bottle O'. Watchet Minehead: Jurassic Forests and Submarine Secrets Past the little resort of Blue Anchor and beyond Dunster Beach, Minehead is dominated by a great bastion of hill that acts as a backdrop to the town and its harbour. It is a town of two halves—a resort that can't make up its mind whether to be a class act snuggling up to Exmoor National Park, or throw caution and candy-floss to the wind and go the way of the fish’n’chip scented cheap and cheerful. Minehead at very low tide The Minehead I love is a place of ancient Hobby Horses, antediluvian fish weirs, and historic smugglers. The harbour end of town has more history in its sea-borne finger than most ports have from the top of their slipways to the base of their groynes. How many can boast their own prehistoric submarine forest? Minehead as seen from Watchet Walk seawards at low tide from the venerable quay and you'll paddle your way to an area which is Somerset's answer to Jurassic Park. Bits of wood and tree stump lie about the place like victims of some fairly recent flood. But when this forest was growing, sabre-toothed tigers and woolly mammoths were walking between the trees. A low tide event at Minehead Hurlestone Point The Wild Exmoor Littoral North Hill trails west as if it were specially designed to protect West Somerset from the ravages of the sea. Far below, the ramparts of Hurlestone Point introduce the sublime curve of Porlock Bay. The old shingle ridge was breached a few years ago, and now a couple of hundred acres are metamorphosing into what has been described as the UK’s fastest-changing environment. View across Porlock Bay from above Hurlestone Point At the far west end of the bay, picturesque Porlock Weir squats under the mighty tree-covered hills like a port in a dream. Now we are into the Exmoor coast proper—there is no town or village along this perpendicular littoral for a dozen or more miles. There is, though, a tiny hamlet containing Culbone Church, the smallest complete church in Great Britain. The nave is just 21 feet by 12 feet. High above sits Ash Farm, where the poet Coleridge may or may not have written Kubla Khan before being interrupted by the famous “person from Porlock.” Culbone Church Lynmouth: The Town on the Torrent After the wilderness of the North Devon Foreland, you enter the vast amphitheatre of Lynmouth Bay. Lynton and Lynmouth enjoy some of the most panoramic views in the West Country, yet the place has witnessed both life-crushing disaster and life-saving courage. Its name gives a clue to its fate. Llynna comes from the Anglo-Saxon and means torrent. The day of reckoning came on August 15th, 1952, when more than 90 million tons of water cascaded down the steep narrow valleys, causing the Lynmouth Flood Disaster where 34 people lost their lives. View across Lynmouth Bay Go there on a pleasant spring day, and you will find it hard to imagine such scenes. The vertiginous wonders of the Valley of Rocks and the famous funicular cliff railway make it one of the most visit-able places in the West Country. The Giants of the North Devon Coast Past the tallest cliffs in England we come to the two hangmen—the Great Hangman and the Little Hangman. These hills dominate the coast just east of Combe Martin, the longest village in England, once famous for fragrant strawberries and gleaming silver. Little Hangman hiding the Great Hangman near Combe Martin Travelling west, we pass Watermouth Bay, which turns into a kind of fjord. Once an isolated place beloved by free-traders, it’s said that in 1785, a tidesman found a 96-gallon barrel of rum here but was unable to make an arrest. Finally, we reach Ilfracombe, capital of the west Exmoor coast. The dramatic, cliff-bordered arena around the harbour wouldn't look out of place on the Amalfi Coast. Our journey concludes at Bull Point, North Devon’s big corner, where the Bristol Channel finally gives up and heads south into the Atlantic maelstrom. North Devon coat towards Ilfracombe What is special about the Somerset coast? The Somerset coast is famous for its dramatic tidal range, extensive mudflats, ancient rock formations, fossil-rich cliffs and excellent wildlife habitats. Where are the ancient pavements on the Somerset coast? Several stretches of the Somerset coastline reveal remarkable limestone and rocky pavements exposed by tides and erosion, making them popular with geologists and walkers. Is the Somerset coast good for walking? Yes. The Somerset section of the South West Coast Path offers spectacular scenery ranging from Exmoor's high cliffs to the Bristol Channel's tidal landscapes. Why are Somerset's tides so high? The funnel shape of the Bristol Channel creates one of the world's highest tidal ranges, exposing vast mudflats at low tide. When is the best time to visit the Somerset coast? Spring and autumn are ideal for walking and wildlife, while summer offers long days for exploring beaches and coastal villages.

The Exmoor Mystery: The Lamb Of God There's an Exmoor tradition which, in days of yore, would see the people of the high lonely villages climbing Dunkery at Easter in the hopes of seeing the Lamb Of God. Now, I'm not exactly sure what the Lamb Of God is, but I do know that Exmoor's highest hill was venue for this phenomenon and that there is a place called Easter Hill on the flanks of the great furzy down. Why not check out Walks on Exmoor - click here I've always understood that the Lamb was some sort of apparition which appeared in the sky – a parhelia perhaps – where a copycat sun is formed by ice-crystals forming high in the atmosphere. The appearance of two suns (and I've seen this in Cornwall) is enough to get anyone thinking of God. Why Do We Eat Lamb at Easter? But anyway, I was mulling over this the other day when the thought struck me: why lamb? Moreover, why is lamb regarded as a traditional Easter food – and why, indeed, are eggs – let alone Easter bunnies? The Ancient Blessing of Lambs Well, like all these things, it goes way back into the depths of time. An ancient prayer for the blessing of lambs can be found in a seventh-century sacramentary in the Benedictine monastery at Bobbio, in Italy. Two hundred years after the old monks penned it, Rome had adopted the prayer, and from then on the main feature of the Pope's Easter dinner for many centuries was roast lamb. Spring Equinox and Middle Eastern Lamb Traditions But the lamb's link with Easter time – or, at least, with the Spring equinox – probably goes much further back than that. The people of the Middle East were chomping away on the stuff at this time of year centuries before Christ came onto the scene and, of course, lamb still features heavily in many Middle Eastern cuisines. West Country Spring Lamb: A Local Delicacy All this suits me fine, as lamb is one of my favourite morsels. And I believe that we folk of the West Country are particularly fortunate in having some of the best lamb in Europe on our doorsteps. Actually, I prefer eating it later in the year when the meat has developed more flavour thanks to the animal feeding on rich summer grasses, but I am certainly not going to pass up the chance of a traditional Spring lamb roast this coming weekend. Cooking Lamb for Easter: Garlic, Rosemary, and Perfect Roasting It's amazing what a little puncturing with garlic and rosemary will do to add pizzazz to the flavour. And, by-the-way, many people (including me) prefer the flavour of the shoulder to the leg, believing it to be slightly sweeter. But let's not quibble over the size and shape of the cut – instead let us consider whether the meat should be cooked hot and fast, or low and slow. I go for the former as I like lamb to be succulent and very pink. My wife hates this, saying it isn't cooked, and she prefers a long slow roast where the joint is placed in the bottom oven of an Aga or some other slow-cooker for the better part of a day. Copious quantities of Modena vinegar help make this meat to remember – the stuff literally melts in your mouth and the flavour rating goes off the Richter scale. The History of Easter Eggs: Symbol of Spring and Rebirth What about the ubiquitous Easter egg? Does that also have a history stretching from the dawn of time? Certainly does. Like all these traditional big-occasion foods – it's got a lot more to do with the season of the year than anything religion could throw at it. Ancient Fertility Symbols and the Origins of the Easter Egg But religion was always very good at adopting the old ways. The origin of the Easter egg is based on the fertility lore of the early Indo-European races. To them it was astonishing to witness a live creature emerging from a seemingly dead object. Not surprisingly, the egg became a symbol of Spring. In Persia people used to present each other with eggs at the Spring equinox. Easter Egg Traditions Around the World Since then the Easter egg custom has undergone all sorts of developments in various European countries. In Britain, eggs were given to servants at Easter – King Edward I had 450 eggs boiled, dyed or covered with gold leaf, which he distributed to the members of the royal household on Easter Day. The Syrians and Greeks present each other with red eggs to honour the blood of Christ. Some Slavic peoples design elaborate patterns of gold and silver, while in Austria artists make striking patterns by fastening tiny plants around the eggs, which leave a white impression on the shells after they're boiled. Poles and Ukrainians decorate eggs with plain colours or simple designs and call them krasanki. The Easter Bunny: From Pagan Symbol to Modern Icon Strangest of all Easter food customs though, must be the Easter bunny. Once again, the origin lies in pre-Christian fertility lore. Quite simple really: the rabbit was the most fertile animal known to our forefathers. And perhaps because of this, the Christian custom adoption committee laid off the Easter bunny and it never was given a religious significance. The Bunny and His Eggs: A Curious Folklore However, the bunny did, rather mysteriously, become legendary for producing Easter eggs – and if you believe that, you'll believe anything. Way back in the Middle Ages people were writing about the Easter bunny and his eggs. A German book written in 1572, states: "Do not worry if the bunny escapes you; should we miss his eggs, then we shall cook the nest." Modern Easter Fun: Egg Rolling and Painted Shells We live near a particularly steep field and a great number of younger kids turn up to paint their eggs and then hurl them down the grassy slope. This is the only time of the year when I buy factory eggs – as it seems a shame to waste good free-range food in such a ruinous fashion. But it is fun, and I never cease to be amazed at how many times the eggs can go rolling off without being broken. A Seasonal Recipe: Steamed Spinach and Egg For some reason, I can never think about eggs without wishing to eat one. And so, without more ado, I am going to repair to my vegetable garden, pick some fresh spinach leaves, wash them, place them in a steamer, steam them for a minute, indent them with the back of a spoon, crack a fresh egg into the green bowl, steam for another minute or two – and then eat the results with salt and black pepper. Nothing could be more simple and the resulting dish is as Easter flavoured as you can get. The pure taste of Spring.

Isles of Scilly Low Tide Pop-Up Discover Local Food and Drink Producers in the Isles of Scilly Imagine a place in the British Isles that boasts not only an unusual number of local food and drink producers, but individuals who are all very much in touch with the natural environment which surrounds them. It’s a little corner of heaven where you are likely to come across artisan producers down most leafy lanes and around every hedgerow. All of them are making delicious forms of food and drink, and all of it is inspired by the glorious local landscape Mother Nature has provided. I spent a couple of days in such a place this week, although I did need the help of a helicopter to get there… Loading ingredients onto the off-island of St Martins Why the Isles of Scilly Are Called the Fortunate Isles Sometime after the Victorians started taking seaside holidays an early marketing genius dubbed the Scillonian archipelago The Fortunate Isles , a label which the islands enjoyed for decades. And as I returned aboard the Penzance helicopter this week, it was the title I scribbled at the top of my notes. The Fortunate Isles indeed. Especially when it comes to food and drink. A Culinary Renaissance in the Isles of Scilly Words I never dreamed I’d be writing in association with the Isles of Scilly 25 years ago when I started visiting the islands for these newspapers. Back then, as many readers will know, the food offer on Scilly was dire. In an archipelago surrounded by some of the richest waters in Europe, you couldn’t even buy fresh fish - it was all imported frozen from the mainland, along with just about everything else. Which, interestingly, was a very different situation from the time in 1976 when I was lucky enough to spend the summer camping on St Agnes. We were almost entirely self-sufficient, happily limited to food grown on the island or caught in its waters. Fishing for sprats on the isles of Scilly Small-Scale Producers Making Big Waves Now the wheel has turned again. The Scillies are back and boasting an authentic and delicious food and drink scene - and I write about it both this week and next because the South West area covered by the two newspapers which carry these articles is home to the majority of people who visit the islands each year. And the opening paragraph is accurate - you really can meet artisan producers down just about every lane and across every hedgerow, and they are making delicious stuff. Looking across St Mary's Harbour, central hub of the Scillies Supporting Sustainable Food in Cornwall and the Isles of Scilly I was invited to visit by Ruth Huxley, of Cornwall Food and Drink and director at the Great Cornish Food Store, which has obtained funding to run an initiative designed at bolstering the food, drink, farming, and fishing industries of both Cornwall and the Isles of Scilly. “Basically, the programme aims to foster sustainable growth, enhance product quality, and expand market reach for local producers,” said Ruth, who took a group of experts out to Scilly this week so they could see for themselves the remarkable food and drink renaissance, and offer professional guidance and advice. As one of them said after two days island-hopping and meeting producers… “Their commitment to ‘island flavours’ is impressive and is a fantastic selling point. Their emphasis on local ingredients, as opposed to imports, struck a chord - and their desire to share the true taste of Scilly came across loud and clear.” Shellfish is probably the best known delicacy to be found in the Isles of Scilly Micro-Scale Farms and the Beauty of Local It has to be emphasised that, as with everything on the islands, all this is carried out on a micro-scale. The largest farm we visited was 14 acres, big for Scilly. But they say small is beautiful - and when it comes to food production, it certainly is. Because everything has to be done very well indeed if you are going to make a living from such small acreages. Not only that, but you’ll need to be hugely inventive and have the ability to utilise everything and anything you have to hand. Fudge, Flowers, and Flavour on Bryher and St Agnes At Veronica Farm , for instance, fudge-maker Izzy Tibbs makes use of the honey produced by Bryher bees which buzz around the succulent plants she sells. It has a distinct flavour and aroma. Izzy Tibbs of Veronica Farm, Bryher On St Agnes, Grace Windridge-Hicks and her husband Aidan are not only growing all manner of plants on Westward Farm to flavour their gin, they’re also picking wild herbs and gorse flowers to create interesting and delicious drinks. Vineyard Innovation and Circular Cider on St Martins On St Martins, Holly Robbins and James Faulconbridge use squeezed red grape skins from their wine-making to bolster the colour and flavour of a cider they produce. Holly Robbins and James Faulconbridge Island Fish Back on Bryher, the Pender family who run Island Fish win awards for their sustainable practices all of which showcase the abundance of the surrounding seas. Nothing goes to waste - the amazingly fresh lobsters and crabs are cooked and served plain and simple (which is just how they should be) or are turned into delicious dishes by the family team. Sea Salt, Spirits and Single-Malt Whisky on St Martins Ingenuity is another notable and essential ingredient of the archipelago’s food and drink scene. Andrew Walder, of SC Dogs Distillery on St Martins, is a prime example. Having developed a remarkable business harvesting sea-salt from the ultra clear waters in Higher Town Bay, Andrew has now developed an impressive distilling operation (in which he distils from scratch) and he is even growing his own barley for future single-malt whisky production. Andrew Walder, of SC Dogs Distillery on St Martins Scilly Cider: A Model of Self-Sufficiency on St Mary’s Zoe and Chris Jenkins, of Scilly Cider in St Marys, cultivate their own rootstock, demonstrating a self-sufficiency born of necessity. Indeed, they are spearheading an amazing new cider industry that is fast evolving in three of the five inhabited islands. Resourcefulness is a hallmark of island life, as is a strong sense of community. You’ll find producers supporting one another and collaborating on initiatives. Distiller Andrew, for example, makes an impressive apple brandy for Zoe and Chris using their cider as a base. Zoe and Chris Jenkins, of Scilly Cider on St Marys Zero-Waste Cider and Homegrown Innovation It is the only thing the Jenkins do not do for themselves. Everything else in their cider operation is carried out in-house… “From growing rootstock to grafting trees - from planting the trees to picking the fruit by hand - from pressing the fruit to the ageing, bottling, pasteurising… It all stays on the farm,” says Zoe. “Even pulp from the press goes back around the trees as a fertiliser, so there’s zero waste.” Retired marine engineer Chris’s family have been working the St Marys farm for multiple generations. You can tell he’s a person good with his hands because the immaculate cider-making shed, and the farm’s new tasting-centre (which is taking shape as we speak), are basically home-built and are shining examples of their kind. I know many a West Country cider-maker who’d turn green with envy. Fisherman Mark Pender of Bryher From Holidaymakers to Heritage: New Roots in Old Soil Many of the people we met are from old Scillonian families, some are not. Holly and James, for example, bought St. Martin’s Vineyard and Winery (from a local couple who’d set it up in 1996) five years ago while on holiday. They made the instant decision to stop working for a large tractor company and an eco-consultancy, and make the move - a decision they have never regretted. They now run what must be one of the most eco-friendly and sustainable businesses in the region. Sea Salt to Solar Energy: Genius at Work on the Isles of Scilly Just up the lane, Andrew Walder is a veritable genius when it comes to self-sufficiency. Like a lot of born-and-bred islanders, he left for a time (to spend 15 years in the Merchant Navy) but returned home brimming with ideas - and the knowledge, energy and skills to turn them into a reality. The fact that Andrew learned how to distil from scratch, and now holds a licence which allows him to produce his own fabulous brands of rum, is hugely impressive in a world in which most distillers buy-in industrially made spirit that they then flavour with botanicals etc. But the man who brought sea-salt harvesting to the islands has gone one step further and is now preparing to make England’s first single-malt whisky with barley grown in his own fields and malted in-house. He also has a nearly completed new tasting centre and soon the whole lot will be run with the help of solar energy and a unique “sand battery” system. Scilly’s Smallest Food Producers: Baked Delights from the Garden Gate Some producers think big (ish), others are content to keep things small. Young mum, Zoe Dan, bakes delicious cakes and pastries, which she sells from a little honesty box at the end of her garden on Bryher. If you’re lucky, you can buy a slice of the local Scilly “tattie-bread” from her “Bake Box”. Zoe Dan, bakes delicious cakes and pastries, Isles of Scilly 'tattie bread' Adapting and Evolving: The Secret to Island Food Success I was struck by something the dynamic Grace Windridge-Hicks told me… “You have to be really flexible to survive on Scilly. That sounds dramatic, but you are constantly changing. We started off as a potato farm, then we were a flower farm and then Aidan’s mum and dad started distilling local plants and herbs to make soap and other products. Now we do the gin and we’ve got our own very popular amaretto. “You are constantly evolving and working out what works, and what doesn’t,” said Grace. “As long as you keep your mindset flexible, you will survive.” Taste of Scilly 2025: A Food and Drink Festival Like No Other If this article has whetted your appetite for a visit, you might be interested in Scilly’s 11-day annual food and drink celebration in September. Taste of Scilly features local producers and eateries from around the islands and is designed to showcase their wares. One producer told me: “The festival offers a great way to experience a diverse array of events and activities, from sailing on a yacht spotting wildlife while savouring morning tea and cake, to indulging in sunset lobster nights. There’ll be pop-up dining events where locally crafted tapas are sure to inspire. You can enjoy a picnic on St. Martin’s before kayaking to the Eastern Isles - or embark on tours and tastings that explore beehives and honey, and locally distilled spirits.” A typical "honesty farm shop" on the Scillies Experience the Unique Low Tide Pop-Up on the Isles of Scilly And, of course, there’s Scilly’s most unique event - the Low Tide Pop-Up which, because of tidal conditions, can only be staged twice a year. I’ve been twice and can report that the word “unique” is, for once, spot-on. It takes place when spring tides are low enough to allow you to walk dry-shod between the islands of Tresco and Bryher. For just a couple of hours hundreds of people gather on sands which are usually deep beneath the waves to enjoy all manner of seafood and other delights. 👉 Check out https://www.visitislesofscilly.com Visitors enjoying the low-tide pop-up between Tresco and Bryher

Around about 30 years ago I did a lot of flying about the place in various aircraft, hanging out of open doors filming. You wouldn’t do it today - you’d just get yourself a drone. And it would be a lot more steady and manoeuvrable - and far far less expensive - and the quality thanks to modern technology would be much much better. But it wouldn’t be such fun. On this occasion we somehow managed to persuade a crew from the old SAR (Search and Rescue) flight at Chivenor to take us around Exmoor one afternoon. in fact, they took us on several flights as part of their training. This is just a quick taster of the footage but if people are interested I will digitise more and put it up here… To read about our Exmoor walks click here

Someone asked how I cold possibly stay in lockdown for more than 60 days. These photos perhaps provide part of the answer - I took them all on a 30 minute dog-walk just now. If you live somewhere like this perhaps you don’t need to be belting around the place looking for somewhere else to go. To read about our Exmoor walks click here What would we do without red campion? Of all the hedgerow flowers we see in the West Country, this delightful little pink marvel must be one of the most prolific and most constant.  I say constant because very few months seem to go by without a sighting of its pretty flower.  There’s one up the lane from where I live nodding its pretty little head at the moment - despite the fact that the deep old pack-horse trail where it grows was deep in snow just a week ago. The world seems just that little bit milder for having seen it. Best not pick it – people used to believe that if you did, your father would die. Why they used to think such a thing – and what logical connections the idea had with anything to do with reality, I cannot imagine.  The other big belief about red campion was that its seeds were capable of curing the agonies of an adder bite. How you managed to pick the plant in order to pound up the seeds and save the snake-bite victim without also killing your father, tradition doesn’t say.  Nor, of course, does any learned folklore tome anywhere tell us who discovered this useful anti-venom ability, or how. But so widespread was the belief that campion is also known as adders’ flower.  It enjoys other names too – like jack-by-the-hedge, cuckoo-flower, red mintchop, soldiers’ or batchelors’ buttons and scalded apples. Batchelors’ buttons might suggest it was once worn as a buttonhole by young unmarried men - as for the latter name, I have no idea. Campion looks nothing like apples, scalded or otherwise.  I’m told the root was sometimes used as a soap substitute for washing clothes – apparently people used to simmer the roots in hot water, then mash them up to make a slippery substance. Maybe they did. But I have seen a campion root and there isn’t much to it. You’d need an awful lot of dead campions – and therefore possibly numerous dead dads – to tackle the average family washing basket.  Its Latin name is silene dioica – the genus silene is a large grouping with around 700 species of annuals, biennials and perennials. Red campion grows right across Northern Europe and in some places they used to believe it offered protection against scorpion stings. Like so many old fashioned beliefs, though, it would be pleasant to learn that this were true. Not that there’s any way would I ever want to be in the position where I had to put the theory to the test. Oh, and please don’t forget to purchase a. book of my coronavirus shorts stories - of the mood takes you, that is. All about raising funds for Hospice UK - Tales From the Lockdown

Many years ago I spent a lot of my time hanging around with some guys I knew from Bath. And I mean, literally hanging around. They were hot air balloon pilots and we used to do a lot of filming while dangling under their vast balloon envelopes in small baskets made on the Somerset Levels. The metal burner-frame located below the balloon but above the basket was an ideal and steady structure upon which to hang an upside down tripod. The two guys I became great friends with were John Clifford and Clain Armstrong-Brown who, alas, has now passed away. John is out there somewhere though - Australia I think - and if you see this John, all the very best to you old mate. We lived in a big house at Luxborough at the time (Chargot) and occasionally the guys would come down for a visit and a few times John brought a balloon with him. We were trying to get sponsorship to do an entire series of films flying over the national parks of the UK - which would have been fantastic had it ever come off. Anyway, we did a couple of experimental flights over Exmoor and I’ve been digitising them from old fashioned High Band U-matic video. Here is the very beginning of one of our memorable flights - - shot early one winter morning after we’d taken off from the low flat fields under Dunster Castle - right next to the main road just where they have the eastern entrance to Dunster Show. Over the coming weeks I’ll put up some more of these balloon flight clips - next time soaring over Luxborough… To read about our Exmoor walks click here

People always talk about going mushroom picking in September and into the autumn, but living where I do I’ve often found the common field mushroom out and about in June or July.  It all depends on the weather. A warm and humid patch after some rain shoaled bring them out. Which is what we’ve had recently - but so far I must admit I’ve only found one single common field mushroom in the valley.  The south of England is supposed to be richer in fruits of the woods than anywhere else in the world - and, given the harvests over the past few days, I believe it. You have to be a bit careful though. There is a commonly found version of the field mushroom called the Yellow Stainer (agaricus xanthodermus) and it will make you quite sick. According the great mushroom man Roger Phillips, "The symptoms are sweating, flushing and severe stomach cramps - but only some people are affected." Beware of field mushrooms that have a yellow tint to them. Break one open and if the torn flesh turns yellow - forget it. A lot of people like horse-mushrooms. I used to be a big fan, but perhaps I've eaten too many. They can be incredibly strong if you get them when they're a little past their best. Actually, I had a couple of young fresh ones from a sheep field on the Brendons the other day and they were delicious. I only had a couple because each was as big as a tea plate and two were almost too much to eat. Another king-sized recent find was a giant puffball. When I say giant - I mean boulder-sized. We divided it and shared it between four families - no point keeping it or trying to store it as puffball goes off faster than anything else I know. When fresh, the soft white flesh is fantastic - like a sort of fungi-flavoured marshmallow. Fried in butter with a little salt and ground black pepper - that's all you have to do.  Incidentally, I have been told that if all the zillions of spores from one of these giants actually fruited and grew as large as its mum - then the earth's surface would be 28 feet thick in puffball. But then, perhaps that's one of those magic mushroom facts.   I have to say that I love hunting for fungi as much as I love eating the stuff. The enchantment of the mysterious mycelium is never lost on me. There's nothing better than a stroll into quiet, dark, ancient woodlands to discover these wonderful morsels peeping out of a mossy bank. I've noticed that, somehow, you get your eye in. The first cep can be difficult to find - but once you've found one, you're on your way to victory.So what to do with your find of field mushrooms? The very best thing is to enjoy them as simply as you can, which means frying them in good local butter, allowing the black juices to evaporate in the heat, before placing them on a thick slice of good bread smeared with yet more good butter. I sprinkle the whole lot with Maldon salt and use fresh ground white pepper rather than black.  Field mushroom soup is as easy to make as it is delicious. Fry the washed and cleaned mushrooms along with a little garlic and one or two crushed cardamom pods, then add as much whole milk as seems reasonable after you’ve taken about a quarter of the mushrooms out of the pan to add later. Bring the whole lot to a warm simmer – add a slosh or two of good quality Japanese soy sauce at this stage – and cook on an extremely low heat for half an hour.  Allow to cool, pick out the cardamoms, then blitz the whole lot with a hand-blender. Add the reserved fried mushrooms to give the soup a satisfying texture. Reheat, stirring in some butter or a little Greek yoghurt along with copious amounts of fresh ground black pepper and a little salt to taste.     To read about our Exmoor walks click here

Regular visitors to this website might recall a piece we did some time ago about the launch of an Exmoor lamb project. I wrote extensively at the time about the importance of buying local grass-fed meat - it’s good stuff - very very delicious and actually it is good for you and the environment as well. We can’t grow much in the way of arable crops on the high hills of Exmoor, but we do grow excellent grass. Obviously it’s not a thing we humans can eat, but we do know some creatures that can. Good old fashioned husbandry - looking after the soil and allowing hardy sheep breeds to live outdoors most of the year round… It represents one way of producing first class food in a system that has been going on in these parts for thousands of years. I’ve occasionally worked with the Exmoor National Park Authority on promoting the local lamb, but am not being paid to do so here - however, I’m such a fan I thought I’d put up their film and the following press release… Residents and visitors across Exmoor as well as further afield can now get a true taste of Exmoor at home by buying grass-fed lamb direct from some of the area’s passionate farmers and producers. A new list of farms supplying lamb direct and accompanying film has just been released and is available on-line from Exmoor Hill Farming Network (EHFN), Exmoor National Park Authority (ENPA), Visit Exmoor and Edible Exmoor. Grass-fed Exmoor lamb can often be found on the menus of the area’s award-winning restaurants including Woods, Dulverton, the Coleridge Restaurant at Dunkery Beacon Hotel, the Coach House, Kentisbury Grange and the Swan, Bampton. But this is the first time a supply chain has been developed for people to enjoy the product at home. One of the farmers supplying direct is Holly Purdey at Horner Farm. Holly said: “We farm in the Porlock Vale working with nature to ensure biodiversity across the farm is being restored, building a healthy environment for us all while producing a delicious, nutritious product. We keep native- breed ewes, ensuring our lambs grow at their own speed, resulting in the perfect balance of flavour, fat and tenderness.” Katrina Munro, who works on Exmoor National Park Authority’s  Eat Exmoor  initiative, promoting the benefits of buying local food, said: “One thing we should all be taking away from the lockdown experience is the vital importance of food security and supply. Local producers and shops have been at the heart of keeping people fed and now we need to ensure they continue to benefit from our support. By buying produce from Exmoor you’ll be helping our rural economy recover as well as doing your bit to protect the environment and conserve the beautiful landscapes of Exmoor.” The succulent juiciness and characteristic flavour of Exmoor lamb won over diners at an event at Woods in Dulverton at the end of 2019. Restaurateur and producer Paddy Groves served lamb cutlets from four regions across the UK and the Exmoor grass-fed lamb was the most popular in a blind-tasting, with customers using words like ‘delicious’ and ‘cuts like butter’. The event features in a short film celebrating the quality and benefits of Exmoor grass-fed lamb available at:  www.exmoor-nationalpark.gov.uk/eat-exmoor . Professor Jeff Wood, a leading academic specialising in animal and meat production who co-led a study with Bristol and Exeter Universities, comparing red meats that had been raised in different agricultural systems, said: “When compared to standard produced meat raised on a large proportion of processed feed, the grass-fed meat was preferred by all the taste panels in our study. You also have more omega-3 fatty acids in a grass-fed product from the leafy grass the animals eat. So, you not only get a good tasting product, but also something which is better for human health as well.” The register of suppliers has been complied by Katherine Williams of EHFN. Katherine said: “Our farmers are protecting the landscape and the environment by using both traditional and modern sustainable farming methods and keeping food miles to a minimum. They’re passionate about conserving the area and also the high welfare of their animals. Traceability and provenance are also so important to us and the animals here are all reared on a very high percentage grass diet - making the lamb both tasty and healthier to eat.” The Exmoor Hill Farming Network is welcoming enquiries from retail, food and hospitality businesses who wish to supply Exmoor lamb direct to customers. Contact  katherine@ehfn.org.uk  for more details. The list of farms supplying lamb direct can be found at www.ehfn.org.uk , www.exmoor-nationalpark.gov.uk/eat-exmoor , www.edibleexmoor.co.uk or go to  www.visit-exmoor.co.uk/eat-exmoor for some of the area’s top restaurants. To read about our Exmoor walks click here

Years ago I presented several series of walks on television. This is the first one I ever did with ITV Westcountry - and jolly enjoyable it was too. So enjoyable that we went on to make a number of series with the same team - not only walks but things like Great West Country Icons and a lovely series called Up The Creek, in which I voyaged up and down the region’s estuaries in a wonderful old Watchet Flatner - one of the only boats ever invented that was deigned to sink! Not that we did any sinking, thank God… But we did have a very pleasant time making the TV packages and writing up the whole thing for the Western Morning News… To read about our Exmoor walks click here

It was one of the hottest stuffiest days of the year and we wanted some air - so where better than The Chains on Exmoor. My wife Sue and I walked over Dure Down from the Simonsbath-Lynmouth road, past Exe Head, and down to Hoar Oak Cottage yesterday and enjoyed every step of the weary, very hot, way. Here’s an article I wrote a while ago… Even the name suggests a degree of upland loneliness and bleakness - Hoaroak Cottage, tucked in an empty valley under the windswept, boggy, vastness of The Chains on Exmoor, is one of the most remote buildings in all the West Country. To read about our Exmoor walks click here As such, the ancient moorland home has played host to all manner of tales and legends - to the extent that it has become something of an enigma with its own dedicated website and a society of friends.    Now the semi-ruined cottage - which some say is the capital of the Middle of Nowhere - has just undergone refurbishment work to stabilise its fabric. A spokesman for the Exmoor National Park Authority (ENPA), which acquired the cottage in 1969, told me: “The building, which probably dates from the beginning of the 1800s but may be much older, is an evocative and historically important reminder of the hardships of upland sheep farming on Exmoor. It was occupied until 1958 and then allowed to fall into disrepair.  “In 2009, following the death of the tenant, the authority began to explore ways of safeguarding the remote building,” she added, saying the ENPA had worked closely with the Friends of Hoar Oak Cottage, the Exmoor Society and Exmoor Uprising to agree a way of consolidating the remains of the cottage to a stable ruin. Matt Harley, ENPA property manager, said: “The presence of sensitive wildlife, the distance to the nearest road and the vagaries of our summer weather has meant that the careful consolidation of the building has taken three years - however it is now complete and we are delighted with the results.” Praising the project, Rachel Thomas, chairman of the Exmoor Society, commented: “I am really impressed with what’s been achieved in retaining what appears to be a ruin from a distance in a relatively wild, open landscape - but with the ability to read the story of a cottage when close up - leaving a feeling of mystery and a desire to explore further.  “The Friends of Hoar Oak Cottage have done a splendid job in stimulating interest on their website,” she added. You can find out more about the enigmatic ruin by visiting http://www.hoaroakcottage.org/

I am getting lots of positive messages about my modern fairy-story, The Deer Park - and a lot of people want to know more about the exact location I’ve based it on… Well, here’s an old newspaper hike which I wrote as a way of getting people to visit the Land of the Giants. This is not, as it happens, a reference to anything in my book (although there is a giant in it). This classic walk introduces us to a grove of trees which are the tallest in England.   The Dunster Douglas even has its own plaque to confirm it’s the country’s tallest tree. The giant douglas fir has been growing since 1876 and is now just a single foot short of 200 feet (60.5 metres). The plaque also informs us that its trunk weighs 50 tonnes - which would be enough wood to make 4.5 million pencils. Fantastic... Indeed, a stroll through the Valley of the Giants is a fantastic, awe-inspiring, experience which I’d recommend to all country-lovers. This particular hike has the valley as it’s ultimate goal - you can reach it far more easily by car if you’re feeling lazy. To try them out for the first time I went to the forested hills behind Dunster which offer as wide a cross-section of walking conditions that you’ll find in this region. There are steep rocky tracks, open heaths, stream to cross and some muddy sections - which just about encapsulates most terrain you will come across in the South West.  Having parked in the small car park near Gallox Bridge (turn left at the Forester’s Arms as you leave the village on the Wheddon Cross road) I followed the old packhorse trail into the hills south of Dunster. The packmen of old used to frequent an inn called the Horse and Crook somewhere around here – the pub’s long gone, but they used to take their trains of horses, mules and donkeys across the old packhorse bridge that still stands at Gallox. If you look over your right shoulder while walking across the bridge, you will see Grabbist from where, legend has it, a super-sized ogre used to reside at the locally named 'Giants Seat'. Apparently he was a nice old giant, the villagers would get him to dry their washing by wafting one of his huge hands. The village has another ancient giant legend which claims one huge fellow had been locked in a dungeon. This one eventually turned out to be true - a massive manacled skeleton was uncovered during the last century in Dunster Castle's Gatehouse. Having reached the forest gate above Gallox Bridge, I turned left and followed the path towards Carhampton. This can be muddy - and was the other day - but the Brashers gave good grip. The track took me up over a pleasant corner of down-land, affording the most fantastic and unusual views of the famous castle.  At Carhampton Gate, we come to the old deer park boundary. I turned right and followed it along a track called Park Lane which ascended up over the hill to Withycombe Hill Gate.  At this point you could - if you wanted a shorter hike without the giant trees - re-enter the park by walking through the gate on your right to continue straight on, out onto the big bald hill that plays host to Bat’s Castle. This is one of the most tremendous prehistoric remains in the West Country – and I say that not only because of its extraordinary ramparts, but because of the sublime views you get in just about every direction from the top. In fact, you get more-or-less the same view of the Avill Valley running up to the high point of Dunkery Beacon as the one Mrs Cecil Frances Alexander enjoyed from Grabbist more than a century ago. She was so impressed that she wrote the famous hymn 'All Things Bright and Beautiful'. Dunkery might not be exactly a "purple headed mountain" - but the rest of the hymns rings as a pretty true description of village and vale. However, I did the exact opposite and turned left instead along a footpath which lead me out onto Aller Hill. Heading south, this right of way now quits the trees and strikes out over some rough open land. Curving to the south-east it descends along side a wood, crosses a small stream, and then begins a direct ascent up the hill which plays host to Gupworthy Farm. We pass the path which leads to the farm on our left and continue on upwards towards the beautiful named woodlands called Withycombe Scruffets (or Scrubbetts, depending on which spelling you prefer). After about a mile - and just before we reach open heathland - a track descends to our right and this will take you down into Longcombe.  Once you reach the very bottom of the valley, take any of the forestry tracks which wend their way around Longcombe Hill to continue west past Broadwood Farm to reach the wood of that name.  Now swing north to get onto the Broadwood Road - and within a couple of minutes you are dwarfed as you stroll amid the gargantuan conifers.  Actually, most are conifers but Dunster Douglas stands right next to the country’s tallest magnolia - measuring a modest 80 feet in height.  The Crown Estate developed a Tall Tree Trail around the valley, says that the warm damp climate of the coombe and its perfect soil combination has allowed the giants to grow so tall.  We pass out of the trail’s northern end and follow the little paved lane for a few hundred yards across some meadows until the woodlands begin again. This is where we leave the lane to join tracks on our right which start climbing around Gallox Hill. Yet more stunning views can be enjoyed from the top where the trees thin out to open heath. We continue around the northern end of the eminence (which is actually called Vinegar Hill) to descend along a track that leads east directly back to the packhorse bridge. Fact File Basic hike: from the southerly quarter of Dunster, across Gallox Bridge to the Deer Park. East to Carhampton Gate, south to Withycombe Hill Gate, south past Gupworthy Farm, across Longombe, past Broadwood Farm to head north via Tall Tree Trail to Gallox Hill and back around Vinegar Hill. Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer OL9 Exmoor. Distance and going: six miles, a little steep in places – can be muddy. To read about our Exmoor walks click here

Here’s a walk for winter – despite the conditions underfoot. I have lived in my Exmoor valley 30 years now, and never during all that time have I known the paths so muddy. Luckily I came across a camera card containing some photographs I took during a dry and pleasant walk in central Exmoor that I enjoyed a few winters ago. It was one of those cold sunlit afternoons in which small white and slightly menacing clouds scud in from the Atlantic. We parked near Upper Willingford Bridge on the convergence of lovely Litton Water and Dane’s Brook (map ref: SS325 815).  In his book The Waters of Exmoor, Noel Allen tells us: “The Danes’ Brook probably takes its name from the hilly nature of the countryside through which it flows, or possibly from the twin mounds of Brewer’s Castle and Mounsey Castle which guard its junction with the River Barle.” To read about our Exmoor walks click here This column has trudged in gorgeous glen before, this time we’re leaving the stream behind us to climb around the spur of hill due north towards Halscombe Allotment. After crossing a small tributary we bear right so that we can make for Porchester’s Post.  Now we enter the greater area of Withypool Common. From now on it is a story of verderers, free suitors, Court Leets and Lords of the Manor. As Exmoor writer Victor Bonham Carter once said in an essay for The Exmoor Review: “Withypool Common is a direct survival of the era when the Royal Forest of Exmoor was still an open waste, before the Inclosure Act of 1815; and it survived subsequent legislation by which many other commons on Exmoor were inclosed during the mid-19th century. “Moreover, despite the vicissitudes of two worlds wars, the impact of tourism and of various measures for agricultural improvement, it is still being used in essentially the same manner as in the past: namely, as a grazing ground for stock, controlled by customary rights.” By the way, that was written in 1968 when the impact of tourism was but a smidgen of what it is today. Later in the same extensive study of the common, research by Geoffrey Sinclair showed that on a fine weekday in August a mere four walkers appeared on Withypool Common. In a normal August in more recent times I bet you’d have counted more than 100 – but, of course, that could be much diminished next month if the rain continues to fall.  However, we were quite alone as we followed the hedge north west from Porchester’s Post. It took us to the Withypool road which we crossed so that we could continue on up to Brightworthy Burrows. At 428 metres this offers a fine prospect of central southern Exmoor. Way down to the west there’s famous Landacre Bridge looking lonely in the valley of the Barle – and if we spin slowly to our right we follow the river all the way to Withypool. I always think there’s something peculiarly Scottish looking about Withypool. Perhaps it’s the way it nestles amid the moors, but perhaps too, it is something to do with the John Buchan-ish that dot its hillsides. Somehow you can imagine the man with the ‘hooded eyes’ – the villain of The 39 Steps, lurking in one of these expensive homes. We dropped due north from the Burrows to reach the footpath that runs adjacent to the Barle. Again, this column has trudged this way before, so I won’t dally in my descriptions of the beautiful route east to the village. If the pub is open, I heartily recommend taking refreshment there. If not, purchase something sustaining from the post office in preparation for your ascent of Withypool Hill. Cross back over the splendid old bridge and proceed up the Hawkridge road.  No sooner had we left the village, we took to the moor and walked straight up to the summit. An alternative would be to follow the lane all the way to the cattle grid, where you can turn right to follow the bridleway alongside the edge of the moor. The magnificent views available from the summit were fast beginning to fade when reached the tumulus at the top, so we carried on with barely a murmur, down past the ancient stone circle and eventually we joined the track that took us south west to a place called Tudball’s Splats. Great name. Who Tudball was and what Splats are, I neither knew nor cared. I was growing weary as night fell and so we pushed on to regain our original route - past Porchester’s Post and south to Willingford Bridge.  Five of the nine miles we’d walked in daylight, three in the gloaming and one in utter darkness. And as the stars disappeared it started to rain. So what’s new? Fact File Basic hike: from Upper Willingford Bridge (map ref: SS325 815) north to Brightworthy Burrows, down to the footpath along the Barle, east to Withypool, and south to return over Withypool Hill. Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer OL 9 Exmoor. Distance and going: nine miles, fairly easy going, can be a bit squelchy after rain. Food and drink: Royal Oak, Withypool