Cornwall’s annual spring flower show is a wonder to behold - but you need to know where to look to see the best wild flowers. This walk south of Newquay is one such place. What saved the coast just south of town from the town’s urban sprawl is The Gannel. For those of you who don’t know it, this is Newquay’s very own estuary. Various schemes were put forward down the years to have the bothersome creek dammed or reclaimed, so that Newquay could extend across all the lovely dunes to the south.  Imagine the horrors that would have been built had this occurred. However, The Gannel stood – or rather, flowed – strong. Consequently the area that begins just a few hundred yards south from the centre of town remains wonderfully untouched.  So much so that the National Trust owns a good deal of the area, thereby ensuring its conservation. To start this hike we go to the Trust’s car park near the coastal village of Holywell, tucked between the giant dunes of Holywell Bay and the old military camp at Penhale. If you’re entering the village by car, bear left at the bottom of the hill and proceed a few yards until you see the trust car park. Now it’s simply a matter of taking the footpath down to the beach. After a minute or two, I could see that the coast path north extended directly up into the dunes, but having never been to Holywell before I thought I’d take a turn on the beach. I’m glad I did, as it’s as delightful a strand as you’ll find anywhere.  In his book Walking in Cornwall, written more than 80 years ago, JRA Hockin says that some people claimed the beach to be the sweetest bay in England. “There is just that symmetry in its setting and shape to point the exquisite harmonies of lofty, marram-crusted sand-hills, acres of golden, surf-washed beach, and two lines of delicately tinted cliffs framing a restless segment of blinding blue, while the cleft pile of Carter’s Rocks off Penhale Point disciplines the horizon and prevents the limitlessness of sea and sky from overwhelming the scene.” Good old JRA also found Holywell Cave in the cliffs to the north of the bay and described it thus: “A boulder-guarded sea cavern where the water seeps out of the rock into a little basin near the roof.” I should add that the Trust advise you not to go there alone as the steps up to the cavern are very slippery. Certainly, you should never go there on a rising tide. I did not visit the cave because I was making my way up onto the dunes in order to regain the coast path. It’s quite a haul up those sand-hills and the trust ask that you do not walk on the marram grass but try to keep to the various paths where wooden steps are provided in the steep bits. It’s important to try to stop erosion of the giant dunes. Walking north we come to the big headland known as The Kelseys. This is the name of the three large and ancient enclosures which cover this north-pointing cape. The outer wall is now just a bank of collapsed stone, but the others are still more or less intact and are reminiscent of the ‘cornditches’ to be found on Dartmoor. In other words, they have a vertical face and a sloping face – in the case of Dartmoor this was to keep the King’s deer out of the fields (the vertical side), but to allow them to clamber back over the wall if they did get in. i took the photos below in the area many years ago when my then young son Harry and his friend James joined me on a walk. Out at the end of Kelsey Head you will see the low wall that is all that remains of an ancient cliff castle. Easy to defend, but I always wonder what the inmates did for freshwater if and when they were besieged. Just off the headland is a rock island called The Chick, which the Trust also owns. By the way, as we turned the corner we saw a stoat loping through the profusion of flowers. The sighting didn’t surprise me in the least – if the number of holes is anything to go by this is rabbit-central. Walking back down the north east flank of The Kelseys we were introduced to the aforementioned Polly Joke. The proper name is Porth Joke, but for some reason the locals call it Polly. I don’t know why – but I do know that the ‘Joke’ bit is derived from the same source as the word ‘chough’ (as in the bird). We now headed inland, up the footpath along the pretty valley, until we came to another Trust car park. Now we followed another path south, up the small depression onto Cubert Common. In doing so I was reminded of another of the area’s great claims to fame - it used to be said that the sweetest mutton in all England was reared on these very grasslands. Some say it was because of the rich profusion of different plants grown in an area that is so naturally rich in lime – Hockin reports that it could have been due to: “The sheep eating the little slugs and snails that abound on turfed sand-hills.” Whatever the reason, I wish someone would rear some sheep in the area now so we could find out whether or not the claim was true. I’m told this is unlikely because of the number of people who walk dogs out here, which is a pity. To return to my car, I followed the overland path back to Holywell. This took me over the ridge of hill and past the northern perimeter of the golf links, then it was a descent down to the rear of the dunes and on, in turn, to the centre of the village. An easy hike in a surprisingly scenic seaside zone – I look forward to returning to explore the rest of the Newquay that never was. Fact File Basic hike: from Holywell north to Kelsey Head, then past the beach at Polly Joke to return to the village via Cubert Common. Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 104 Redruth and St Agnes. Distance and going: three miles – easy going. LOCAL KNOWLEDGE Huers’ Hut This walk’s neighbouring town Newquay has plenty going for it including countless places in which to eat and drink. But the nicest bit of town is the old part where the ancient Huers’ Hut does a good job of looking Mediterranean on a sunny day. Soft Landings If you’re going rock-climbing instead of walking, I reckon it’s a good idea to take mattresses to give you a soft landing should you fall. That is what these climbers on the Atlantic Coast were doing recently.

Occasionally folk like to climb to the roof of the world - especially around Christmas and New Year when they like to get some sort of overview of the world around them, and work off those festive calories. In the West Country, roofs don't get higher than the ones at Minions, Cornwall’s highest village.  Even if you’ve never been to the area, you may well have seen it. Or at least, spied its mighty television mast perched on top of neighbouring Caradon Hill. This great bastion of modern-day communications seems to mix incongruously with everything else in this south-easterly corner of Bodmin Moor, where the relics of ancient-folk are scattered far and wide. We’re here for those views but if we get a little history thrown in, so much the better. In fact, you cannot walk an inch on these high plains without bumping into the past. If it’s not the prehistoric stone circles, then it’s the clutter left by tin-streamers, copper miners and quarrymen who knocked seven bells out of the moors. Few places in the region are as messed about with as this once productive corner. There were entire shanty-towns up here with names like Darite, Pensilva (once Bodminland), Upton Cross, Common Moor and Crow's Nest. Minions was originally called Cheesewring Railway. The area was the Cornish equivalent to a gold rush, though it is impossible to believe it now. Today you might spot a few folk visiting The Hurlers - the ancient stones of that name are the first thing we'll see once we’ve stopped at the nearby car park.  It’s not often you can view three stone circles in a row and archaeologists remain baffled by the seemingly excessive erecting of so many monoliths. Legend says that God was so angry when the men of Minions dared to ignore his Sabbath by playing the heathenish game of hurling - he turned them all to stone. Another tall-tale claims it is impossible to count the Hurlers but, should you do so correctly, some terrible misfortune will befall you. I’ve never been good at counting, so marched off to the big engine house you will see to the east. This has been converted into an interpretation centre where you can learn all about the area and its mines. The main thrust of mining around here occurred when prospectors located a copper lode on the slopes of Caradon Hill. Development was fraught with difficulties. There were few roads and it was a long way to the coast. The answer was a railway, but it took ten years to build the line that linked the mines to the port of Looe.   Thousands were drawn by the promise of riches - hence those shanty-towns, which had a reputation for lawlessness. There are few historical records of these places, but accounts show that over 650,000 tons of copper ore was mined in less than three decades.  The boom was short-lived as foreign mines opened and copper prices slumped. Then the moor was returned to sheep, ponies, ring ouzels and larks. And to hikers who can enjoy seeing traces of all this industry as they walk north-east to the disused railway that leads around the hill to the Cheesewring Quarry. Rock from this impressive place found its way into the fabric of Westminster Bridge, Tower Bridge and the Thames Embankment. The quarry gets its name from the great stack of rocks perched high and precariously above the workings.  We walked around the wobbly stack along a small path through the clatter of rocks. This eventually curves to the west, leaving us high on a promontory overlooking the pretty village of Henwood and the hamlet of Sharptor. Above the latter is the pile of rocks that shares the hamlet's name and, looking beyond this north-west, you can see right into the heart of Bodmin Moor. Looking east, you are treated to tremendous views of the Tamar Valley. From the north Cornish coast your eye swings around to the northern spur of Dartmoor - and then follows its western flank ever south until you can see the distant outskirts of Plymouth. And there is Kit Hill. It's not often you get to look down on this massive protuberance, but there is Cornwall's answer to Mount Fuji, with Callington clinging to its sides. Now we walk around the northern slope of our promontory, between yet more rock clatter, and find ourselves descending onto a high plain. There's no path, so we must pick our way among the rocks, but at the same time not be tempted to descend too far to the north as there is a bog called Witheybrook Marsh. To the west, on a low hill, there's a big quarry and we head for this, crossing low ridge where you are treated to yet more stupendous views.  This time it's south and west Cornwall. The Dodman in the south - and the wind-farm above Newquay in the north. You would be able to peer all the way to Penwith, if it wasn't for the Cornish Alps. Over Craddock Moor we go to Tregarrick Tor, so that we can enjoy the sparkling vista of Siblyback Lake.  Next we re-crossed the moor back to The Hurlers. I could see why the ancient ones wanted to rejoice up here, but for the life of me could not figure out why they needed three stone circles. But who's counting? Not me. Fact File Basic hike: from Minions north east around hill above hamlet of Sharptor - and from there west to Craddock Moor and back via Tregarrick Tor. Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 109 Bodmin Moor. Distance and going: four to five miles - easy going, fairly level. LOCAL KNOWLEDGE Gallop to Golitha The most scenic and probably best known waterfall is just down the road from Minions - if the weather is a little inclement take a quick walk in the National Trust owned woods at Golitha Falls.  Line to Looe Another wet-weather idea if you are in this neck of the woods is to jump on the charming little train which tootles down the branch-line (mentioned in the walks article) from nearby Liskeard to Looe.

As the turn of the year causes many people to worry about the state of the world, the dawn of 2021 is offering us plenty of time to think about the way we look after our planet. And - as is usual during the reflective New Year period - various media outlets have been analysing the way we eat. One common thread in recent times has been to make the over-simplified claim that all animal-based products are bad for the environment. But it is a massive and inaccurate generalisation when it comes to carefully grazed cattle, raised on the traditional complex grass leys of South West England. Now a West Country farmer has developed a high-tech scheme which is aimed, not only at ensuring prime British beef survives the ramifications of Brexit, but at allowing consumers to know a great deal more about the meat they are buying while at the same time helping producers of premium meat to command fair prices in the future. You can read all about it at Goodbeefindex.org David Andrews - who spent much of his career in charge of a large international technology services company - runs two herds of pedigree beef cattle on the Devon-Cornwall border where he feels he is being “exploited” by the way in which the meat industry works in Britain. “When you’re working your socks off for three years planning and raising a single beef animal, then you go to the abattoir where you get £3.95 a kilo, top whack - but actually it’s costing you £4.60 a kilo to produce… Well, you feel miffed,” says Mr Andrews, who recently launched the Good Beef Index. It has taken the one-time corporate CEO who used to employ 9000 people worldwide three years to borrow on his business software experience and develop the new grading and tracing system - called the Good Beef Index - which he says will revolutionise the way British farmers are paid for good beef. “Added to that, consumers will instantly be able to know which is good beef, and which is not,” Mr Andrews told me. “One problem is that in this country there is just plain beef on sale - the mainstream retail system does not differentiate between good beef and bad. Farmers who rely on eco-friendly grazing practices in places like the South West are producing some of the best beef in the world - and yet we are making a loss on every kilo animal we sell. “That does not happen in beef-loving countries like the USA, Australia or Japan where they have advanced grading systems. That’s what is needed in the UK where you can fatten male dairy calves on soya protein imported from anywhere around the planet and it will be sold in exactly the same way and at the same price as West Country pedigree beef raised outdoors on regenerative grazing, which is good for the environment. “We need a way of allowing the industry and the consumer to differentiate between these two entirely different products - which is why we have developed the Good Beef Index (GBI),” said Mr Andrews. The new programme is similar to beef grading systems used in places like the USA but - borrowing from Mr Andrew’s previous experience in the international technology and procurement services industry - it utilises computer power to allow both producers and consumers to benefit from multiple layers of data. The system not only allows a farmer to grade and value cattle, it also means - with QR code technology - shoppers can instantly learn everything about the piece of beef they’re thinking of buying, even down to the individual animal’s environmental impact. “Good beef is good for you and good for the planet,” says Mr Andrews. “There are three underlying drivers. You’ve got nutritional value - that’s for our wellbeing. Then there’s the well-being of the environment - and with properly grazed animals you’ve got carbon sequestration. The third thing is the eating quality and the amount of intramuscular fat (IMF) - which is important because some fats are good for us. IMF is, and it drives eating quality and nutritional value. “At the moment there is no way a consumer can find out about the quality of beef they are eating. They can be assured, yes. But there is no proper grading system or definitive structure in this country. “Beef is beef, is what people think. But it isn’t. There is good and there is bad. There is no transparency. In other industries there is transparency - in the car industry, you know what you are getting. We’ve lobbied for years that we need a better measurement, but governments haven’t been interested in doing that. “With the Good Beef Index we are saying: right, we aren’t prepared to sell our beef for a loss so we are going to start grading on behalf of the consumer. We are going to be transparent about superior beef. Then consumers can decide. Also the abattoirs have got to decide - do they really want to have transparency and pay for distinctive quality of beef, or not?” Well known agricultural writer and author of the book Grass-Fed Nation , Graham Harvey, commented: “For those who want good food produced in ways that safeguard the planet, this is a great step forward. It’s no coincidence that the healthiest beef comes from animals grazed in ways that protect the environment. “It's the way evolution has set things up. If we're smart we'll use the Good Beef Index to make choices that are good for us and for the planet.” At present the UK adheres to an information-poor European classification system for beef. “With Brexit there is an opportunity to start the dial again,” says Mr Andrews. “We cannot sit on our laurels in this country - we’ve got our backs to the wall at the moment and we have to do something different or get out of the beef business. Brexit is a break-point. “When it comes to grass and grazing, the West Country is best in the world - second to none. There’s a lot of Mother Nature there which is a fantastic asset and resource. We can do regenerative grazing which returns high nutritional value at a net carbon negative. “Grazing is not being used as much as it should be because we are not paid enough. We don’t earn enough to make it profitable. Come on Government - wake up! Let’s get this sorted out!” Mr Andrews has joined forces with an increasing number of other West Country beef farms which have agreed to work under the auspices of the Good Beef Index - and now he and his fellow farmers are looking for others and for abattoirs and butchers to join the scheme. One of those farmers is Jonathan Chapman, a farm vet who runs a pedigree Aberdeen Angus herd at Hele Barton Farm in North Cornwall. “This is such a good idea,” he says… “It is exactly what the UK beef industry and the consumer needs…” Mr Andrews added: “We want to hear from like-minded farmers. That is why we have built the Good Beef Index website ( https://goodbeefindex.org ) - because we want farmers to take a look and grade their animals. We’ve done all the research. We’ve had scientific research to back our assertion that this is good beef. Now we’ve got a cadre of farms which can kickstart this - and we’ve got the software… “So we are ready to go. Now is the time. What we desperately need is a movement of farmers across the South West who are saying: enough is enough! We want a fair price for our premium beef.” PHOTOS: Steven Haywood

A couple of years ago I wrote the following article for the Western Morning News - and it was one which had its genesis in yet another feature which I’d written some years before that when the fabulous Porlock Oysters began to go on sale… The oysters are still on sale and are still fabulous - which is why I’d like to give them all the publicity they deserve…. You can find them at Porlock Weir where they are grown or in some local shops… A chef is smoking them in the ancient coaching inn where he works; a gallery owner is belting around the area with a big dripping box full of them; various folk are busy organising the local food festival as well as a special event at a seaside hotel that will feature them; and I’ve been given the challenge of making something called a Porlock Pie using them.  Exmoor has been going just a little bit oyster crazy this week as the area’s annual food festival prepares to kick off. At the same time some people have been inspired by the news that the local community-run shellfish business has now come of age.  I have covered the tale of the Porlock Bay oysters before, explaining how the long defunct shellfish beds on the edge of Exmoor had been rejuvenated by a group from a parish council which hopes to build a business that will create local employment.  Initially the Porlock Futures group was successful in producing some oysters in the bay, but the problem has been in taking the business up through the gears so that it can provide continuous reliable supplies to local chefs and restaurants.  At the time of writing this article the Exmoor Food Festival is preparing its annual month-long bout of activities, and a volunteer team overseeing the oyster business has announced the shellfish are ready to be sold on a proper commercial basis - which is why various chefs, like Barrie Tucker of the Luttrell Arms in Dunster, have begun dreaming up new ways of serving them.  Hence the smoking of oysters. And if you’ve never tried a fresh-smoked oyster then I’d recommend you give it a go. Few morsels I’ve ever tasted have been so intensely flavoured.  Barrie, who was born and bred in Porlock so has oyster juice in his veins, also pickles the shellfish in a light solution which renders them a truly sensational mouthful. Both are served as part of an immense seafood platter at the 1000-year-old inn which has been doing some great things on the food front in recent times.  Barrie will also be preparing Porlock Bay oysters in various ways at a special Eat Exmoor food and drink trade show being staged in Minehead in February 7. Barrie told me: “Local produce is very important to us. We try to involve the smaller producers but that can be difficult because we are such a busy inn. It’s just tying it all in and making it work. “Chefs need a constant supply when we want it - that would be ideal to showcase local food. At the same time, if people do come in having caught some local fish or whatever, we can put that on the menu as a special. But it does help to get the supply side worked out.  “I’ve tried doing different things with the oysters - we have pickled them - 27 hours in the a light pickling solution and washed off in spring water. And we smoke oysters over a mix of hickory chips and coffee grounds. Both appear on our seafood platter which is a fruit de mare. The idea was to have a rock-pool on a plate. We also do deep fried oysters. “All these oyster dishes are easily do-able by your readers at home. And I also think the idea for a Porlock Pie - with local Exmoor venison and oysters - is a good one that could be made by anyone locally.”   The pie was the idea of local businessman Will Rayner who first tasted cooked oysters at the Hesp household 18-months ago when I made a classic beef and (Porlock) oyster pie, which we featured in the newspaper food pages. I had volunteered to have a go at making a venison version of the pie, which Will says will encapsulated two great ingredients from the immediate area. “As I run a local gallery business I think it’s important to attract people out of season as well as in the main summer season - and it’s times like this in January and February when we could attract a lot more people into the area if we had a great food product,” he said. “I’m talking about the kind of people who would like to drive out into the countryside and try new things - like these amazing oysters. The thing to remember about any business is that it will always face hurdles in the first two years. And the oysters have managed to clamber across some fairly major hurdles to get to this point.  “Supply is now much more guaranteed and the oysters are going to go on to greater things. We have a new system in place to look after orders from restaurants etc, and we have a dedicated person in charge of that. “We hope not to just to create jobs down on the beach but also in local restaurants and so on,” said Will who can’t eat raw oysters in the classic way, which is why he was keen to meet Barrie and talk about other ideas for the shellfish.  In the meantime I took some oysters home via a West Somerset butcher’s shop where they sell local wild venison and set about what, as far as I know, were the first brace of Porlock Pies ever to be made… Hesp’s Original Porlock Pie Because I was using the amazing Judge Pie-Maker I created two individual sized pies, but this recipe could just as well be used for a larger single Porlock Pie which would feed three or four… 400g of Exmoor venison steak, diced 1 large carrot, quartered and cut into 2cm long pieces 6 to 10 oysters, shucked - saving all juices through a sieve  3 medium onions, chopped flour for dusting Half pint of Exmoor Ale or stout or Guinness 1 bay leaf 1 sprig of thyme Seasoning For the pastry 300g of plain flour 100g of unsalted butter 100g of suet, shredded salt iced water 1 egg, beaten Preheat oven to 160°C/gas mark 3 Dust the venison with flour and brown all over in a mix of oil and butter in a heavy pan - add onions and carrots for a few minutes more, then pour in the beer or stout, and add herbs. Bring to the boil then place on the lid and put on a low shelf in the oven for 2 to 3 hours.  Check on the pan regularly because you don’t want the meat to dry out. I used the oyster juices which are salty and sweet and delicious and easily had enough to keep the sauce moist.   For the pastry, combine flour, butter, suet and salt in a large mixing bowl and use your fingers to rub the butter into the flour until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Pour in water and create a rough dough - wrap in cling film and rest in the fridge for an hour or more.  Heat the oven to 180°C/gas mark 4 and ladle the stew into a pie dish, distributing the shucked oysters evenly. Place pastry on a floured work surface and roll out to a 1cm thickness, ensuring it is larger than your pie dish. Drape it over the pie dish, trim the edges, then crimp them by using a fork so the lid is closed tightly. Brush lid with egg-wash before baking on a low shelf in the oven until it has turned  golden after 40–45 minutes. If you use an electronic pressure cooker to make the meat sauce and a Judge pie-making machine you can follow more or less the same recipe but do the entire job in under half an hour. Barrie Tucker’s Pickled Porlock Bay Oysters at the Luttrell Arms. For the pickling solution 650g water 280g sugar 5g juniper  1 x cinnamon stick 5g star anise 2g cardamom  10 x black peppercorns 2g thyme 1g rosemary  1g salt Bring to the boil and simmer for 20 mins, pass out the aromatics, leave for ten minutes then add the oysters and leave for 22 hours. Remove and store.  Luttrell Arms smoked Porlock Bay oysters Put a handful of hickory chips with a few spoonfuls of dry coffee grounds in a deep metal tray or pan (a wok would be ideal) and place over a hot hob in a place where there’s plenty of ventilation. Seal the tray with foil and heat until you see smoke escaping from the foil. Having already dried your shucked oysters on paper towels, place them on a metal rack over the smoking bed inside the tray and once again cover with the foil. Smoke for around three to four minutes.   These smoked oysters are tiny explosions of flavour which would flavour all manner of dishes. Some connoisseurs like them as they are, served on thick buttered toast - but I like Barrie’s idea of incorporating them in a fruits de mare with other marine morsels. At home I had them for lunch with a simple green salad served in mustardy vinaigrette dressing.

Every now and again we all need some kind of consolation prize. Such were my thoughts one day a few years ago when I flew out to the Scillies to cover the Royal visit for my newspaper – it was a truly excellent day out, but the need for a consolation prize came in the eye-watering form of the archipelago’s great, sunlit, beauty. Never have I seen the islands look quite so alluring. As I said in my newspaper report on the visit, they were doing a very good job of looking like some billionaire’s retreat in the Caribbean. I, alas, was in and out of the archipelago in three short hours – much of which was spent in a darkened pub writing copy. So what I needed back on the mainland was a consolation prize – a lovely sunlit seaside zone in which to wander… And none could be more fit for purpose that the magical area around Soar Mill Cove right down there in Devon’s most southerly sunshine zone. At Hope Cove you have Outer Hope and Inner Hope – at the latter there are a number of ancient cottages looking suitably quaint and fisher-folkish, which isn’t surprising as the place was once famed for its crabs. The one confusing thing about the two neighbouring communities is their seemingly misplaced names. To me Outer Hope should be Inner Hope, and vice-versa – Outer actually being more Inner in the greater scheme of things if you look at a map. Anyway, we parked at Outer Hope and walked out - away from inland Devon - towards the sea at Inner Hope, which is where the coast path climbs away from the buildings to pass through a small stand of trees on its way out to Bolt Tail. This is a very special bit of littoral walking simply because you do not often get such sweeping westerly views along the south coast. Bolt Tail stands proud like a giant tooth nailed onto the eastern extremity of Bigbury Bay – and as such affords as good a panorama as any cape I know.  The whole of Bigbury Bay lies before you - but you can see far, far beyond Burgh Island, past the Great Mew Stone, west again beyond the Plymouth ferries to-ing and fro-ing from France and Spain - and on again until that other great headland, The Dodman, seals the horizon with its barren flanks. It’s along the next section of coast path heading east that you can peer down the increasingly tall cliffs to spy the Ramillies – which is a rock named after a doomed ship.  The writer SH Burton, in his book South Devon Coast, explains that a boat of that name was wrecked here in the hurricane of February 15th, 1790. “Her captain mistook Bolt Tail for Rame Head and thought he was being driven into the Sound. When the mistake was realised they let go their anchor and, by cutting away all the masts, managed to ride safely until evening. Then the violence of the wind increased and the cable parted. A midshipman and 25 of the crew made a perilous leap from the stern to the rocks that fringe Ramillies Hole, a narrow cleft. They were saved, but the rest, 708 in all, perished.” Heading south east the path climbs until it reaches some 400 feet above the waves, then forgets to do its usual trick of emulating a roller coaster and adheres, instead, to the level confines of the high downs.  The National Trust has celebrated this unusually flat bit by installing a wheelchair-friendly path so that the less-abled can enjoy the stunning sea views.  Eventually, though, the path is hurled into the abyss. The abyss in question being the valley behind Soar Mill Cove, guarded by the craggy reaches of Cathole Point. It is all very wild and untamed, and picturesque and the cove itself is an absolute jewel. Down into this wondrous coastal cleft we went to enjoy half an hour on the fine sands of the cove - then it was time to start out on the return leg of the walk. We went inland this time, up the valley under Hazel Tor to zig-and-zag our way up to Southdown Farm. Here there’s a junction of footpaths and we took the left hand one that heads north-west across a field until it reaches a wide track. Turning left again we wandered a quarter of a mile along to the Bolberry lane where we turned right. At the bottom of the hill it was a quick left and then right turn into a lane which took us further down into the valley, past a farm and some cottages, before climbing towards North Bolberry and Higher Barton.  It’s the latter that we’re heading for, and we reach it by ducking down the narrow track called Sweetheart’s Path which you will see on the left-hand apex of a sharp corner. The romantic path crosses a shoulder of land and introduces us to the drive that links North Bolberry to Higher Barton – we turn left and head for the latter, but just before we enter its garden find the public footpath that climbs to our right and takes us up to the very top of the ridge.  Now it’s simply a matter of turning left on the ridge path that leads almost straight down the gently descending hill which eventually terminates where Inner and Outer Hope meet.  A perfect and easy walk in perfect walking country – and one which afforded perfect consolation prize for someone snatched away from the Fortunate Isles without enjoying hardly a sniff of just how fortunate they are. Fact File Basic walk: From Outer Hope out to Bolt Tail then east along coast path over Bolberry Down to Soar Mill Cove returning inland via Southdown Farm, through hamlet of Bolberry and along descending seaward ridge. Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer OL20 South Devon. Distance and going: just over four miles, fairly gentle climbs, easy going. LOCAL KNOWLEDGE Hope Cove House I’ve stayed at this excellent establishment tucked away just above the beach at Inner Cove - a wonderful place tin which to base a South Devon walking holiday. It is well known that we are a nation of potato-lovers, but now a company called Devon Cove Produce has come up with a product that allows to consumers to enjoy their spuds in a whole different way.  Cove Vodka Not many walks have their own vodka, but this one does. After a year of research, planning and testing, the company has launched the county’s first potato vodka. The new, luxuriously smooth Cove Vodka is produced using local South Hams King Edward potatoes as the base ingredient.  The potatoes are grown in rich soils on south-facing slopes just above the sea at the well-known beauty-spot of Hope Cove.  The Lidstone family have been growing potatoes in the area for more 50 years, but it was daughter Leanne Carr - founder of Devon Cove Produce - who came up with the idea of turning the crop into something with just a little more kick than a chip. She told me: “After many discussions around the dinner table about the different ways you can cook and enjoy potatoes, we decided to take things a step further and use the crop to make vodka.   “Using the finest Devon potatoes and local spring water - combined with small batch traditional copper pot distillation - we have created a distinctly smooth and delicious vodka which we believe captures the essence of Devon.” So smooth and clean is the resultant vodka, that it can be enjoyed straight on its own - but many will prefer it with a mixer or as the base spirit in a cocktail.   Leanne recommends Cove Vodka poured over ice, with chilled soda water and a squeeze of fresh lime. “As the carbohydrates in the potatoes do not translate into the vodka, and no sugar is added, it is about as low in calories as an alcoholic drink can be,” she explained.  In addition, Devon Cove Produce has launched Cove Damson Liqueur, a smooth and fruity creation made with ripe West Country damsons infused with Cove Vodka. Cove Vodka is available in three sizes: 5cl at £5.95, 20cl at £18 and 70cl at £39.50. Cove Damson is available in two sizes: 20cl at £18 and 50cl at £33.  Both can be purchased online at  www.devoncove.co.uk  or through a list of stockists featured on the website. Keep up-to-date on Cove Vodka’s progress on Instagram @devoncovevodka #covevodka and on Facebook by following Devon Cove Vodka.

Woodbury Common offers some of the finest inland walking to be found anywhere in southeast Devon. This is an easy going stroll through the southerly limits of the area’s fascinating Triassic pebblebeds – to give them their official title.  A few hundred yards east of the hamlet of Yettington, not far from East Budleigh and close to the Bicton College of Agriculture, there’s a small stony track that leads up into some mysterious, alluring hills. There is something wooded and ancient about them.  “That,” thought I, “looks as if it may go somewhere.”  Not being armed with the map at the time I knew not whither – and nor did I care. Having tucked my car safely on the verge I thought I’d explore – it being a hot and jolly day when the sun beat down with unaccustomed vigour. And soon I was walking north from the road through cool woodlands – wondering where on earth I could be. You’ll see this lane on the map, running just past the B that says BICTON CP. At first it runs alongside a wood and then begins to climb. We’re in a place called Crook Plantation and, all at once we leave agriculture behind. The woods close in and we find ourselves ascending up the side of a little coombe. I guess the climb is no more than 200 feet, but it felt more in the heat of that sultry day. It’s also made more tiring by the fact that the path here is made entirely of the sort of cobbles you normally find on a beach. The round sort that roll. Why they should be up here on the side of a hill I cannot say for sure, but can only imagine that the great heath we are about to reach must once have been part of the seabed. Maybe I’ve given the game away by mentioning the heath. For that is where we find ourselves once the ascent is made. A huge and beautiful heath lies before us. A heath of such majesty that, in the beating sun, it looked for all the world like the Serengeti Plain. So lost was I that, if a herd of wildebeest had crossed the horizon, I’d have been not in the least surprised. I have to admit that I had a feeling this was Woodbury Common - to be honest there aren’t many places that look like the famous heath. But I wasn’t sure and didn’t care because I was thoroughly enjoying the other-worldly feeling of being lost.   The great empty expanse held me fascinated and I decided to carry on up the hill along the track to my left so that I could see all there was to see. That’s not difficult as we’re talking wide open spaces. Having subsequently looked the place up on the Internet I can tell you this: “The commons (Woodbury and adjacent) encompass many areas of historical and general interest, including a hill fort, some seventeen burial mounds and Fire Beacon,” says a local website. “The Commons are laid down on Triassic pebblebeds (there, told you about the pebbles) that are thought to have come from an area of desert that extended over the English Channel to France. Vast rivers flowed across the basin depositing layers of pebblebeds which we now associate with the Commons.” Apparently the area was situated on the edge of the great ice sheet of the last ice age, and so was once a place of Arctic tundra. After the ice went away the area became a huge forest and then Mankind arrived. He built a hill for here around 500-300 B.C. and Woodbury Castle, as it’s now know was the place I reached on my hike.  The website goes on: “With the establishment of the local manors and the division of the land into parishes, the Lord of the Manor allowed commoners rights of grazing, turf cutting, the taking of bracken for bedding and the cutting of certain size trees for fuel. This went on for many years until the locals became richer and stopped using their common rights. “The Commons were then allowed to fall into their own succession of growth from heather and gorse to the invasion of trees, bracken etc. If this had been allowed to go on unchecked, one of the most valuable lowland heaths in the country would have been lost.” Well, that didn’t happen. The whole place is now a Site of Special Scientific Interest - the area of the East Devon Pebblebed Heaths covers all of Woodbury and the adjacent Commons. It’s owned by Clinton Devon Estates and is part of the East Devon Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. There’s wide variety of different vegetation associated with dry heath, wet heath and mire, and woodland. There are 24 different species of dragonflies and damselflies and a host of butterflies, including the rare High Brown Fritillary and Silver Studded Blue. As for reptiles there are adders, grass snakes, common lizards and slow worms. 70 breeding bird species have been recorded, including the Hobby, Dartford Warbler and Nightjar. So there we go. The various commons are such delightful and interesting places that I intend returning soon, but in the meantime I’ll round off this hike by telling you I walked east along the northern rim of Collaton Raleigh Common before joining the footpath that took me south-east down to Kettle Plantation where I turned right on the path that took me back to the sultry coombe I mentioned earlier. Then it was simply a case of retracing my tracks to the car – a lost soul returned from the wilderness. Fact file Basic hike: up track just west of Yetterton onto Woodbury Common, up to Woodbury Castle and returning via Collaton Raleigh Common. Recommended Map: Ordnance Survey 115 Exmouth and Sidmouth. Distance and going: four and a half miles, easy going.

In 20 years of writing about walks here in the South West I’ve come to realise there are certain types of hike that tick more boxes than most, but that these sometimes come under headings that might not be obvious to, say, a publisher. And so, while there are hundreds of guidebooks with names like Pub Walks of Borsetshire, there are very few with titles like Secret Walks from Town Centres. Which is a pity because it is potentially a winning recipe. I’m talking about the kind of walk that allows you to be at the busy heart of some well known urban conclave one minute, and out into some deeply peaceful rural setting the next.  Well, in 15 or 20 minutes perhaps.  I was musing upon this one day while researching this feature which does indeed include a remarkable walk, but which is really about a community effort to reinstate a number of poetry installations along the banks of a historic canal. It was my old friend, the poet James Crowden, who brought the story to my attention - because he was the man who, seven years ago, inspired a group of students from the Tavistock Community College to create some remarkable snippets of poetry focusing on the historic canal which passes directly past their school’s playing fields.     The project was originally funded by the local Tamar Valley AONB team and the words created by the students were painted on various bridges or other fixtures along a publicly accessible walk which follows two-and-a-half of the canal’s four-and-a-half miles.   More about the history of the canal in a minute. I found myself walking along its towpath recently with some people who are working to have the poetry reinstated for a third time.  It was a couple of years ago that local resident Jane Miller spent six months renewing the installations which can be seen at nine locations along the canal walk. The walk follows the canal to the end of the public path at Lumburn, a distance of about 2.5miles, where James’s poem ‘Endgame’ can be read. The lines of verse have been written on different structures, (benches, wooden slabs), and vary in length from one line to several couplets. The trouble is, the painted words have - for the second time - either been weathered away or they were printed on metal fixtures which have been stolen. Jane told me: “It was really nice to have the poetry along a walk, but it had become very faded and indecipherable so I decided I’d like to renovate it.  So I got in touch with James Crowden and various other people, raised some money, and reinstated it. Now it needs doing again in a more permanent way.” As we prepared to walk along the towpath, James explained: “I grew up in Tavistock so I knew the canal very well indeed. It’s not really my poetry - I did two different workshops with the children of Tavistcok College and they produced some really fantastic stuff. We then worked on an edited version of that. There was money from the Tamar Valley AONB at the time.  “Then later, off her own back, Jane decided she wanted it reinstated - and we are possibly doing it a third time now.” At this point we were joined by local historian Simon Dell, who has written a guide book on the canal and who told us something about the history of this remarkable waterway… “It was constructed by John Taylor - the 19-year-old mine-captain over at Wheal Friendship Mine at Mary Tavy. He realised that the transportation of copper ore out to the rest of the world - down through Morwellham - was impossible along the primitive trackways that existed. So he built a canal which goes from Tavistock all the way along the four-and-half miles to Morwellham Port (on the River Tamar).  “Approximately an hour away from town the canal goes into a tunnel which is not open to the public - but there is a lovely footpath all the way out of Tavistock, past Crowndale, the birthplace of Sir Francis Drake. We’ll go out along there beneath the old London and Southern Railway Line that we are hoping may one day be reinstated - and we will go out to Lumburn. It is a fantastic stroll.  “The canal is about eight-feet-wide and, at its deepest, it’s only about three feet. That is because the canal barges had a very shallow draft,” explained Simon, as we began our walk from the centre of town. “And this is a flowing canal - but it’s only what they call a ‘sweetening flow’. They close off the canal if the river is really low because the Tavy’s flow needs to be maintained.  “The tub-boats were 40-feet-long and about four-feet-wide with a shallow draft of two-feet - and they would carry eight tons. It took one horse to tow them down full of ore with the flow, and two horses to tow them back up. They brought back coal, lime, wheat and grain. As we are walking we will come across the old town grain store.” We did indeed. It was remarkable to see how low the tunnel beneath the grain store was. “The men would have had to croopy down (squat) because the grain was brought up on the empty barges and underneath the building there were hatchways. The barges would stop and the grain would be lifted into the grain store for the town.” We walked on down the canal to the edge of town and so could see Tavistock Community College at a point where James read out one of the first of the poetry installations from words carved into the parapet of a bridge… “The heavy weight of copper ore, slowly being pulled,  by man and beast in harmony,  moves so much slower than the world,  as if encased in a different time.” Jane commented: “When we were reinstating the poems the first time around we went to the college and James spent the day getting the children to write a new poem. They were mainly girls - mainly self-conscious - and we walked along the canal in pouring rain. Over the day, James extracted from first a word, then a phrase, then a sentence… And he put this together."   James explained his technique when leading poetry workshops - a job he has done many times over the years in all manner of locations - from primary schools to prisons… “First you have to read out some poetry of your own, make them feel at home and - in a phrase - give them permission. The only trick I have - if it is a trick - is to make it a group activity, so they are not on their own. They are still in their own thoughts, of course - but I get them to read out small bits several times down the journey. And by the time you get to the third or fourth session they are writing whole poems because they are feeling at home with expressing it within that group. “I’ve done that in prisons with prisoners and it is really interesting how it works.” At this point we came across yet another poem along what really is a most beautiful of walks… “There’s a wonderful line here which I’ve forgotten,” said James. “Suitcase of leaves, It’s only luggage, The water meanders On its purposeful journey.” As we walked on along the towpath, past Sir Francis Drake’s birthplace and beneath the mighty rail viaduct, Simon told me: “The canal has a four-foot fall in four-and-a-half miles. One foot per mile. How about that?” It was, indeed, amazing to see the rate of flow that is created by such a shallow drop of just one foot in a mile… “It was just enough to allow a horse to be able to easily pull a fully laden ore boat down, and it took tow horses to two it back,” said Simon. “The route we are following is actually the ancient route of the Crowndale Mine leat - so Taylor didn’t reinvent the wheel, he followed an existing route for the first mile.” Eventually, we neared the end of the public-right-of-way which falls short of the tunnel that takes the canal underneath a range of steep-sided hills.  “The tunnel was at one time the deepest in Europe below ground level - 350 feet below Morwell Down,” Simon explained. “Then, where it exits, it goes down a 300 foot inclined-plane to the port of Morwelham.  “There is now a hydroelectric station on the banks of the River Tamar and so this is not used as a transportation canal nowadays, but used to provide motive power to the power station, which dates back to 1934. The canal flows into a reservoir, then down a tube to the power station, then the water flows into the River Tamar. It creates a significant amount of electricity - it is a significant income generator for the South West Water Authority which owns the canal.” At the end of the publicly accessible towpath, walkers can turn right and continue along a path which follows what used to be a kind of branch-line… "The collateral cut went up to Mill Hill Quarries,” said Simon. “It was constructed in 1817 after this canal was flowing, but unfortunately it only last four or five years before they filled it in because there wasn’t enough water. They built a horse-drawn tramway on the top so the slate from the quarries could be brought here, loaded onto barges and taken to Morwelham for export. The quarries are still operating and it’s a major local employer.”  As we took a rest on a bench at the place where public access ends, Jane told me: “The poems are painted on so of course they weather away - and some have already becoming weathered down after just two years. So what we’d like to do is replace them with hardwood that is routed, and that would be much more permanent.  “The poetry, I think, is extraordinarily effective and moving. The people who wrote it were Year 7 students aged 11 and 12 - and they produced really thoughtful and thought provoking words. It is worth keeping - I don’t think it should be let go.”  James agreed that it would be good to see the words carved in wooden installations: “What is important is that these are local words from a local place - and, like with local food, you can’t get better than that,” he said. “The students are reflecting what they have observed and it has a communal worth - and that is what is so interesting. I’m really pleased that Jane and her friends are getting involved for what is a third time now just to evolve a way in which it will work for longer.  “The children who have written this will grow up and they will still remember it if it’s here - and they may bring their children. That’s the interesting thing. I have found this with other projects - people remember them way beyond the time when they are created. It’s not like a normal school lesson.” Next to the bench at the end of the walk there is an installation that represents the tunnel - and in the last arch is the poem called Endgame which was written by James himself - and which is a fine and eloquent way to end this article… “From here the water slides Under the hill into the slender dark Engineer’s precision masterminding the flow Import-export,  Tamar calling. Inclined plain beckons the ore, Morwelham high and dry, The canal’s very own hydro powering the current Tamar Calling.  Welsh coal, poled through the tunnel, Ore from Wheal Betsy and Wheal Friendship,  Crowndale and Wheal Creber, Saltridge Consols and Wheal Franco, On the slate, Mill Hill cut, Limestone and miscellaneous fripperies, A narrow corridor sunk under the hill, Coming out into the light Taylor-made.” If you’d like to know more about the canal and about the walks you can do around it, Simon Dell has written a local guide called Tavistock Canal Walks.

Sourton Tors circular Chill out man. So said an old hippy I met in Cornwall one day, and I took his advice. On the way home I went to the Ice Works.  Cool. Quite literally  You don’t get much cooler than Dartmoor’s lofty, windswept north-western corner which, presumably, is why the entrepreneurs of old built the Ice Works where they did. Years ago, long before electric refrigeration, someone came up with the bright idea of “capturing” the ice which formed up on the hills high above Sourton Down. They cut a series of huge rectangular troughs running, ladder-fashion, across the hill underneath a spring.  Around this time of the year the water from this spring would be allowed, via a series of gates and runnels, to fill each of the shallow basins. The inevitable cold – guaranteed on this high part of northern Dartmoor before the advent of global warming - would soon turn the imprisoned water to ice, and this would then be covered over by protective layers of peat and fern for use in spring and summer.  The area around Sourton Tors is pretty extensive and the modern OS map (Explorer OL28) doesn’t show anything in the way of rectangular remains. But one particularly golden and sparkling evening last week I did break my journey home from Cornwall in order to locate the region’s coolest archaeological site. And I was glad that I did.  All you do is come off the A30 on the Sourton Down junction above Okehampton-west, drive a mile south along the Tavistock road, and you come to the hamlet of Sourton. Turn left into what passes for a village green, below the village hall and church, and there’s plenty of room to park. Now it’s simply a matter of heading for the high moors which lurk immediately above the graveyard. Take the footpath which crosses the old railway line and you will find yourself in one of the old Dartmoor drifts – a sort of stone walled funnel down which farmers and shepherds once used to herd their sheep and ponies.  By the way, my Western Morning News predecessor William Crossing, wrote more than 100 years ago that the “new” railway looked set to spoil lonesome Sourton. It didn’t, but one can look back now with amusement over his fears. Crossing said the railway had “robbed” the place of its moorland character. He needn’t have worried – the Iron Road came and went without leaving too much of a mark upon the local charm. At the upper, moorland, end of the funnel the walker is confronted by a number of choices. A path called the Dartmoor Way swings away immediately to the left and another proceeds in the opposite direction – south west. But there’s a middle option – a grassy path that curves up around the base of the steep incline that rises in front of you – first north-east, then east.  Up this I went, for no other reason than it looked like the best bet as far as gaining the top of the rocks was concerned. The geology here is a trifle strange – the Sourton Tors are ranged along a very steep ridge, but as you ascend the track around the gentler northern end, so you realise that there’s a second lot of much higher rocks. Between the two there’s a shallow moorland basin – it’s almost as if Mother Nature decided where she’d end the north-western limit of Dartmoor, then changed her mind and had a second shot.  Anyway, it is to the north of all this – on the slopes leading up from the Okehampton side – that you find the Ice Works. The first thing you come across is a stone-walled pit. Above this, you reach the rectangular grid of long thin depressions. Each is about four feet deep and about 75 metres long, but you can see that erosion must have both raised the level of the actual beds and decreased the height of their retaining walls.  On a chilly November day you can imagine how the ice-men would start coming back up at the end of the winter to reap their chilly harvest.  The ice would be packed in fern and transported by cart all over South and Mid Devon.  It would even make it as far as Plymouth where trawler captains took to using it as a way of keeping the fish fresh. Apparently, this marked the very beginning of the era when fishermen were able to go of to sea for days rather than being forced home each night with their catch.  Having found the place, I marched up to the top of the Sourton Tors, before returning to the hamlet down the little coombe slightly to the east – opposite the great sweep of hill known as Lake Down.  Before I did, I sat in the evening light absorbing the westerly panorama. When it comes to sunsets, Sourton Tors offers one of the finest vantage points in the region – you get to see half of Devon and half of Cornwall darken in the golden gloaming. And you are just ten minutes walk and a couple of minutes drive away from the busiest main road in the region.  Fact file:  Basic hike: from Sourton (just south of Okehampton on the Tavistock road) up onto the moors, heading north east to the Ice Works and then south onto Sourton Tors. Back via the path opposite Lake Down. Recommended map: Ordnance Survey OL28, Dartmoor. Distance and going: Two and a half miles – easy going.  LOCAL KNOWLEDGE It’s more than OK in Okehampton Take the opportunity to take a turn around Okehampton - a wonderful little town that is often passed by since the main A30 was re-routed to run between the community and today’s walk. There are some fantastic shops large and small… Museum of Dartmoor Life And there is Okehampton’s excellent Museum of Dartmoor Life which: “brings to life ‘the people's story’ for visitors of all ages. Highlights include a reconstructed Bronze Age hut, Victorian kitchen, blacksmith's shop and farming exhibits. Learn about glassmaking, quarrying and rural crafts. Do lunch at the Dartmoor Inn One of Devon’s best gastro-pubs is located not far from this hike at Lydford. I don’t know if they regard the place as a gastro-pub but the food is sensational and reasonably priced.  www.dartmoorinn.com

Time to turn over a new leaf? If that’s the kind of mood New Year has instilled in you, then perhaps your might be looking for places to discover and explore which are just a little different from the usual zones you enjoy. Walking in locations that are different to the norm can be as refreshing as visiting a foreign country - and Braunton Burrows is certainly no exception to that rule. The Burrows do not disappoint - their massive 2,400 acres boast no fewer than 477 different species of flowering plant, some of which are as rare as hen’s teeth. There are also 33 different species of butterflies and 18 different types of dragonfly and damselfly - many of which are in evidence at this time of the year. In short, the Burrows is one of the most weird and wonderful areas open to the public anywhere in the West Country. In fact, it is the second largest dune area in Britain. It belongs to the Christie Estate (same people who own Glynebourne of operatic fame) and they have been good enough to keep the place open to the public. And by open, I mean you can wander where'er ye will.  To get to the Burrows you take one of several lanes that meander across an area reminiscent of the Somerset Levels. Rhynes divide fields and reeds bend in the breeze. These lanes eventually join forces to terminate in a car park which serves the main area of dunes. An interpretation board tells you all about the dune systems, which are far more complex than you may think - and it also tells you not to enter the area if the red flag is flying. The military occasionally stage manoeuvres among the dunes: “We are actually very grateful for the MOD presence,” I was once told by on e of the local Biosphere rangers. “It has helped to control or slow down the vegetation. It’s the fact that they can come in with their four-wheel-drive vehicles. We are able to say to the army that we need that bit scuffed up a bit - so they drive their Land Rovers or Vikings over that part and it opens up the sand, which starts a succession which allows those early pioneer plants to come in.” The Army’s messing about in the dunes is also good news for walkers because easy-to-follow tracks have been created running hither and thither allowing you to explore just about every single corner of the huge sandy expanse.  One of the walks I’ve done several times in the Burrows is to proceed along the track from the car park and, where it turns right under a sign saying "Coast Path", carry straight on, aiming at the nearest dune. I recall that the first time I did this it was my intention to go to the sea. I thought - no problem, cross the dune and there it'll be. And, having crossed one huge Saharan hill, I was confronted by another even bigger one. And so on. The dunes go on and on. After a while you begin to think you're halfway to Timbuktu, but eventually you hear distant surf pierced by the weeping cry of oyster-catcher. Although you are free to roam, it is best to try and keep to the paths and tracks. This place is famous for its rich flora and is, according to one guide: “A species-rich calcareous dune grassland with good examples of a variety of important communities. The short turf areas are extremely rich in herbs and lichens, including a number of nationally rare species. Flowering herbs such as large thyme Thymus pulegioides, common restharrow Ononis repens and common bird’s-foot-trefoil Lotus corniculatus are locally dominant.” Among all that foliage there are adders - in fact one year I was walking here I was told that no fewer than 13 dogs had been bitten by snake in the Burrows during a single summer. Eventually we reached the great beach that swept us south past Airy Point towards Crow Point, and certainly no snakes were in evidence as we made our way back up north through the midwinter dunes recently.  There are various ways of doing this return leg of the walk. The South West Coast Path takes a detour down through the wandering sands to dip a toe into the Taw and Torridge estuaries at a place marked on the OS map with the word ‘Groynes”. It’s as if the long distance trail wants to see where it will be many miles from now having marched all the way east around Chivenor air-base and up to Barnstaple, before returning west back around Instow then Bideford before gaining Appledore and Northam Burrows, whose dunes lie just half a mile away from the Braunton groynes.   By following the coast path east up through the dunes we skipped the southerly corner of Crow Point and eventually came to the corner where the long distance trail enters the Torridge-Taw estuary zone. By following the path north you can march directly back up to the car park - or you may wish to meander through the dunes instead, which is much more fun. Some 150,000 people visit the place each year, but according to local wardens there’s always somewhere you can get away from other folk - and feel as though you are exploring somewhere very foreign and exotic indeed.    Fact File Basic Hike: across the centre of Braunton Burrows to reach the flats of Saunton Sands, the south down the coast and to Airy Point before returning through the dunes. Distance and going: five miles - easy going if you don’t mind walking in sand. Recommended Map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 139. LOCAL KNOWLEDGE Squires Fish and Chips Squires Fish and Chips in nearby Braunton is one of the best chippies in the west. Simple as that. Michael Squires oversees a deep fried kingdom second to none and I never pass this part of North Devon without calling in. Laid back lay-by  If you do partake of Squires’ fish-n-chips but don’t want to sit in their excellent restaurant on Braunton’s main street, I’d recommend a lay-by with views. In fact I reckon the series of lay-bys on the Braunton-to-Croyde road are the best of their kind when it comes to stunning maritime panoramas.    Buxom Barnstaple If your route to or from this walk takes you through Barnstaple, do call in to town for a quick visit. I get the feeling not enough people do (maybe thanks to out-of-town megastores) which maybe is why there are no butchers in Butchers’ Row any longer. But Barnstaple is a place of great interest and charm.

The poets Coleridge and Wordsworth liked to share this exquisite Quantock walk with their literary pals, and what was good enough for them is most certainly just the ticket for any Westcountry walker on a summer’s day 200 years later... A delightful blend of beautiful coombes, best enjoyed with a sprinkling of Bohemian banter, followed by lofty ridges with an Ancient Mariner's view of the sea, and all washed down with a few pints of best bitter in the cosy nook of a flag-stone floored English pub - what could be better? The hike starts at Holford, the village which is at the foot of one of the most beautiful wooded valley systems to be found anywhere in England. It's easy to find both village green and car park and from here you simply head for the hills on the track which divides the two. The aim of the walk is to cross the Quantocks from one side to the other, have a drink and some lunch over at Crowcombe, and return by a different route. The hike starts not half a mile away from where William Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy lived for one memorable year between 1797 and 98 in the fine old house at Alfoxton. Memorable because of the "immortal friendship", as it's often described, which they developed here with Samuel Taylor Coleridge. And what these three liked to do best was to go on long walks which, according to Dorothy, "extend for miles over the hilltops, the great beauty of which is their wild simplicity." Nice work if you can get it - and you can, because by entering Hodder's Combe you'll be embarking on one of the main routes which took the three friends onto their beloved hills. This is probably the very path imagined in Coleridge's excellent "This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison" in which he writes of friends enjoying a walk on the Quantocks while he must stay at home with a badly scalded foot. He imagines his friends: "On springy heath, along the hill-top edge,  Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance,  To that still roaring dell, of which I told ;  The roaring dell, o'er wooded, narrow, deep,  And only speckled by the mid-day sun..." Now we enter a terrain where it's wise to tuck your trousers into your socks. The top of The Quantocks are cloaked in bracken and at this time of the year these hills make an ideal breeding ground for the sort of ticks which can give you Lime's Disease. I know two wildlife photographers who search each other for these unwelcome parasites like a couple of chimpanzees after a visit to the hill. And indeed it is best to take no chances as some Westcountry moorlands have become seriously infested... Whether or not Coleridge worried about such bugs it's hard to say. He was addicted to Black Drop, the most powerful opium mixture of time which may, of course, been partly responsible for strange and beautiful works such as "The Ancient Mariner." Up here, on the high Quantock ridge path, as the rain clouds part and you see before you a great vista of vale and sea stretching off toward Minehead, it's as good a place as any in which to read this or any of his other extraordinary works... "Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea,  With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up  The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles  Of purple shadow!" What a way to describe this memorable view, but you've time to stand and stare - you must be off down Crowcombe for lunch. To this turn left along the ridge top track and follow it south until you reach Crowcombe Park Gate then take a sharp right before you reach the metalled road. The idea is to get onto the footpath which descends around the northern limits to Crowcombe Park eventually entering the village near Grime’s Farm. From there it’s just a few hundred metres to the excellent Carew Arms. After refreshment you can wander out the other side of the village alongside the road in the Taunton direction passing the preaching cross, gates to the manor, the church and the ancient church house. Just past the school a footpath climbs away to the left of the road and takes you up to the little lane that leads up to Quantock Coombe.  Now, I’m afraid, you are in for a steep climb. Up the coombe we go to reach the path that wends around Fire Beacon on your left. Eventually you will find yourself just across the bank from the ridge track. Turn left and walk back to Crowcombe Park Gate, cross the road and – instead of following the ridgeway back the way you came – head due north over Frog Hill and down the small ridge which divides Frog Coombe and Lady’s Coombe. These two become Holford Coombe once they have joined forces – and to finish this walk all you have to do is walk down it’s lovely length back to the village which gave it a name. Or, to put it in Coleridge's far more romantic words: "But Oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted  Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!  A savage place! as holy and enchanted  As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted  By woman wailing for her demon-lover!” Fact File Basic Walk: from Holford over the Quantock Ridge to Crowcombe, then back via alternative paths. Recommended Map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 104 Quantock Hills. Distance and Going: seven miles easy going, a few steep climbs. LOCAL KNOWLEDGE Carouse at the Carew The Carew Arms in Crowcombe is an excellent old inn with oodles of character. Last time I had lunch there the food was excellent. https://www.thecarewarms.co.uk Bide at the Bick’ Another good pub that nestles under the western slopes of the Quantock Hills is the Bicknoller Inn, to be found in the village of that name. Again. Last time I had lunch there the food was good http://thebicknollerinn.co.uk All fine at Fine Court If you’re exploring the Quantocks why not visit the National Trust property Fyne Court which may, or may not, have inspired the story of Frankenstein - plenty to do and see including some lovely walks https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/fyne-court

Social media has its uses, but you wouldn’t have thought a row on Facebook could inspire a country walk. But that is what happened when I kept seeing posts by proprietors of a well-known tearoom complaining that Exmoor National Park Authority was getting all heavy and unnecessary about a small sign they’d had for years down on the main road.   Periwinkle Cottage Tearoom, located on the famous green at the picture-postcard Selworthy in West Somerset, is as pleasant a place as any in the kingdom in which to enjoy a cuppa and a piece of cake - and I sometimes used take my mum there before she died, because lived in the village for years and we’d go there for old time’s sake.  Anyway, seeing the storm-in-a-teacup kerfuffle about the sign on social media had me writing about this well known walk for the newspapers.  Home of a hundred hikes, each more picturesque, dramatic and ruggedly rural than the next, Selworthy boasts deep, moody woods, swathes of high moorland heather, vast Exmoor panoramas, rolling vistas of Porlock's perfect vale, and wild salty glimpses of the Severn Sea...  All are on offer within just a mile or two of this extraordinary village. So why not follow me up along the intricate footpaths to enjoy the views offered by Selworthy Beacon, before returning past savage cliffs and through the deep, dark, forest of evergreen oaks...  You can view Selworthy’s white painted church from miles around, but it’s the car-park a couple of 100 metres up the lane which will offer you the best starting point for this circular route.  The church is far older than most of the idyllic village (mainly owned by the National Trust) it serves. The thatched cottages situated so perfectly around The Green below, were put there in 1810 by Sir Thomas Acland as part of a model farming commune. But it was not a proper village in the true sense of the word - there never having been a school, a pub or a proper shop. I remember interviewing a diminutive lady who lived next door to the famous tearoom. Ivy Cann had lived there all her life, and as sexton it was her job to wind the clock in the church tower. The other-worldliness of Selworthy was sort of summed up by the fact that the ancient clock mechanism had no face by which to tell the time and relied upon a single bell to mark the hour - whereas the sister church across the valley at Luccombe had a face, but no mechanism. Just to the left of the gift-shop at the top of The Green there’s a footpath which leads north up wooded Selworthy Combe. The track splits after half-a-mile and I suggest taking the right hand fork for a stride or two until you see Lady Acland’s Hut situated on a bank to your left. You can sit in this attractive chalet and look out at the graceful, delicate beauty of the birch forest which surrounds you, and perhaps think of Chekhov or Turgenev, so entirely Russian is the atmosphere of the place. Behind the hut a tiny track takes a weaving route up through the woods and eventually reaches the top of the hill, and yet another hut. They liked their huts, the Aclands. One of the squires used to bring his children and grandchildren to the Wind and Weather Hut so that they could admire the superb views and listen to him recite his favourite poetry. Here's a bit of it by Keble inscribed: Needs no show of mountain hoary Winding shore or deepening glen Where the landscape in its glory Teaches truth to wandering men. Not too sure what it means but, being a wandering man, it touched a chord in me this week as I crossed the road to reach Selworthy Beacon. And what views there are up there - Wales, the Bristol Channel, the Quantocks, the Brendons and Exmoor with Dunkery vast and looming to the south… Next there's a bit of South West Coast Path which will lead you down to Hurlestone Point. To the right, a small side path leads over a steep spur and down past incredible cliffs to reach the old Coastguard Look-Out, but be warned, this route is only for people with very good heads for heights. Just south of Hurlestone two paths head off towards Bossington and you must take the higher one that traverses its way above this village which is yet another picturesque, thatched Acland community for the most part owned by the National Trust. So steep is the slope below your feet that it’s bit like being in a helicopter, or tied to one of the hang-gliders which are often to be found dangling hereabouts. And suddenly you’re plunged back into the woods and often along this part of the walk there's no view at all because of the particularly dark aspect of some parts of the forest. That is because many of the trees are evergreen oaks, or Ilex depending on what you like to call them, and the canopy of thick, shiny leaves is just about impenetrable. In fact, this is the largest stand of Ilex in Britain, and it has a curious southerly, Mediterranean feel to it. Myriad paths criss-cross this great forest, but you don't need to worry as Selworthy is often way-marked and as long as you keep heading south-east along the side of the hill, you can’t really go wrong. Eventually one of the tracks will deposit you back on The Green at Selworthy and you can join the day-trippers in a cream tea - but try not to worry about the tearoom’s sign which has caused such a furore on social media. Fact file Basic hike: from Selworthy Green up the hill to Selworthy Beacon, from where we descend to Hurlestone Point, returning through the evergreen oak woods.  Recommended map: Ordnance Survey OL9 – Exmoor. Distance & Going: six miles, steep in places. LOCAL KNOWLEDGE Peerless Periwinkle Having mentioned Selworthy’s cream teas I must recommend you go in for a cuppa -  they do excellent cake and lunches at the Periwinkle Cottage Tearooms on Selworthy Green.  Okay at Kitnors In fact there’s a choice of tearooms on this hike - you could visit the excellent Kitnors Tearoom at equally picturesque Bossington.  Let’s hear it for Horner Or, a short five minute drive away there’s Horner Tea Garden - which offers a good choice in rainy weather as it has covered booths in which to enjoy your cream tea. The following National Trust website mentions all three venues and more besides at https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/holnicote-estate/features/eating-and-shopping-at-the-holnicote-estate-

From one end of the peninsula to the other, there are classic walks to be enjoyed in every West Country parish. That’s my belief – I’ve been making the claim for years – and so far not a soul has ever disagreed.  As if to prove the point our walk today is located at the exact opposite end of the peninsula from last week’s oceanic saunter in the Scillies. I say that because, for me, Brean Down is one of the great portals that stands guard over the West Country frontier. People have their own ideas about where the land that we call the West Country-proper begins or ends – I have Cornish friends who say the border runs the length of the Tamar – I even know one die-hard lover of the setting sun who believes it consists only of West Penwith.  But I will argue to the last breath in my body that the West Country frontier is along a line that stretches north from Portland Bill in West Dorset up to Brean Down on the Somerset coast.   I have many reasons for saying this – far too many to list here in what is meant to be a walks article – but here’s just one fact plucked out of hundreds… The classic West Country hedge – commonly known as the Devon-style hedge – is to be found across our peninsula until you hit my proposed frontier. I don’t make the claim in an exacting way – but you will not find earthen banks topped by laid trees in the classic Devon style on the Mendip Hills or anywhere east of my line.  I could go on about the westerly penetration of the Saxons and so on, but instead let’s get on with our walk by tramping along the magnificent length of my West Country portal, Brean Down.  The three-and-a-half mile walk from the village of Brean on the shores of Somerset Levels, up the steep limestone ridge and out to the end of the remarkable west-pointing peninsula called Brean Down, offers some of the most extraordinary coastal walking to be found anywhere in the region. The hike not only provides vast panoramas in just about every direction, it also introduces you to forts ancient and modern, the remains of a Roman temple, medieval field systems and the opportunity to see numerous seabirds and rare plants.  Walking around sea-borne headlands is one of the great outdoor treats of the West Country, you usually get a circular hike with fabulous sea views every step of the way. This particular headland offers one of the best hikes in the genre. Brean is a long, sprawling, seaside resort perched on the low windswept coast of the Somerset Levels. As you head north along the one and only road from Burnham-on-Sea, you realise that the place is dominated by the massive 160-foot high finger of limestone escarpment that thrusts west into the Bristol Channel. This ridge causes the road to terminate, and where it ends our walk begins. You can either park on the beach (careful to keep an eye out for the incoming tide) or in the National Trust’s car park just past the cafe. From the latter, a steep path zigs-zags its way up the southern face of the ridge via countless steps. It’s a bit of a haul, but you reach the top you’ll see that the vast panoramas of the coast and Somerset Levels are well worth the effort. Simply turn left at the top and head west along the path that clings to Brean Down’s southerly edge. Be warned that unruly or overly excited dogs are in peril along here – the cliff edges are deceptive and the trust says that there have been times when a dog a month has lost its life tumbling to oblivion along the peninsula. As you ascend to the highest point (100 metres above sea level) you pass both the remains of an old Roman temple and several ancient field systems. From the trig point at the top you will see how Brean Down is – or was – merely a continuation of the Mendip Hills that lie to the east. Eons ago the River Axe carved its way through to the sea and so cut Brean Down off from the main escarpment. Look west from the trig point and you will see how the island of Steepholm, moored a couple of miles off the end of the peninsula, is yet another old outpost of the hills.  From this high point you are treated to stunning views of just about all the Bristol Channel has to offer. To the south Bridgwater Bay curves past the nuclear power station at Hinkley. West from there, the landscape rises to meet the Quantock Hills and west again there’s the West Somerset coast dominated by the backdrop of Exmoor. Across the channel you can see all the landmarks of the South Wales coast and, immediately north of Brean Down, there’s another ridge – one that plays host to the rapidly growing town of Weston-Super-Mare. The short springy turf along the top of the down is cropped by sheep, goats and rabbits – and it doesn’t take long to walk the one-and-half miles out to the end.  The very tip is crowned by extensive fortifications, built in 1870 as part of a chain of defences designed to defend the upper limits of the Bristol Channel against invasion from the French.  Entry to this remarkable and extensive fort is free and there are interpretation boards all over the place to help you understand how the remote stronghold operated. There were underground magazines that used to be so full of gunpowder that the soldiers had to wear rope sandals to avoid any danger of sparks.  It was a formidable place. The fort had seven gun emplacements with a maximum range of three miles – enough to cover the sea area between Brean and neighbouring Steepholm where there was another fort.  There are also later fortifications, built during the two world wars.  The walk back simply runs past the old quarries and along the disused service track that once ferried munitions and men out to the tip. The eastward facing stroll allows for fantastic views of both Weston-Super-Mare and the Axe estuary.  At the eastern end we pass yet more Second World War gun-emplacements and the remains of an ancient Iron Age fort, before descending gently down the track to the trust car park at northern Brean – and so return, in my opinion, to the West Country-proper. Fact File Basic hike: from the terminus of the Brean road on the Somerset coast, up the zig-zag path to the top of the ridge, then west along the footpath to the end of Brean Down, returning via the more northerly disused service road.  Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 153. Distance and going: just under four miles, steep at the start, the rest is easy going.