Miles :141
Start: Tangley, Hampshire
End: Crowcombe, Somerset
Its One AM. You've just been woken up by something but you can't quite work out what. There's a strange noise that, as you shrug off the tendrils of sleep, you realise IS THE MAN NEXT DOOR STILL LISTENING TO THE GODAMNED RADIO AT ONE IN THE MORNING!!!!!
I banged on the wall and he turned it down, not off and I spent the next two hours furious that in a pub we'd selected to be off the beaten track and quiet as possible we were getting noise pollution! I'm quite grumpy when I don't get enough sleep, as you can probably tell. Luckily Em only woke up to hear me banging on the wall, harrumphed in a manner that probably meant 'Oh God he's at it again.' rolled over and went back to sleep.
Anyway I eventually got back off to sleep at about three and that meant we were late getting up and Mr Radio next door had gone to work.
We had an excellent breakfast and headed now for Newbury for a quick look around. Newbury's not that new and seems to be quite a dull market town.
We headed over to a small hamlet called Kintbury where I have some relations who welcomed us with open arms and flowing coffee pots. We talked politics and they suggested we took this certain road out of the village. With a glint in his eye the husband said 'watch out for the cows'.
After waving goodbye took this road after eating our own body weight in macaroons and it turns out there's a common just outside the village where cows roam free. They are kept in this area by cattle grids but four roads run right through the centre of this pasture! It was lucky he had warned us as one cow made a suicidal dash across the road in front of us followed by the rest of the herd.
It was a toss up whether to plow on though. On the one hand a seriously damaged car could be an issue but on the other hand, free steaks for a week!
As we took the gorgeous road East we were passed by some cars and drivers that were clearly there to race on the most beautiful track ever. I can see why they'd be attracted to it, there are sweeping curves and sharp bends, rises and reveals of the valley below. However if they were only taking their own lives in their hands that would be one thing but they are risking every other road user as well.
We drove down the road and passed Stonehenge after being told not to bother stopping as the prices to walk around it were exorbitant. I can say it appears quite hengy and popular, but it's also smaller than I thought but not as small as Spinal Tap make out.
We turned south off the main road and had to follow a smelly tractor down single lane roads for about ten miles with the impatient queue building behind us. Being on a bimble it wasn't a problem for us and Em seemed to be quite enjoying its road clearing properties.
We said goodbye to the smelly tractor and stopped randomly at Shellbourne for essential supplies and found ourselves in a country town from the 60's. It was very impressive, yellow sandstone a quiet village atmosphere several pubs and a definite life to it. I would love to go back and stay for a night or two as it felt idyllic. You can tell I'm running out of positive adjectives to describe all the stuff we've seen. If this goes on much longer I'll end up calling something Avuncular. Anyways Shellborne was simply gorgeous.
From there we headed to the Cerne Abbas Giant which is the chalk man etched onto a hill which turns out is either a two thousand year old god or a mockery of Oliver Cromwell from the sixteen hundreds. Still its pretty impressive though to saw nothing of his enormous...Club.
We headed back north then and saw an array of visible light on the Dorset hills whilst on the A37 Dorchester to Yeovill Road. Now visible light is one of my favourite things its that glow that you sometime see on distant hills. Its simply beautiful, so to see this across all the range was spectacular.
Our tranquil revere was broken in Taunton at rush hour. It seems to have way over ts quota for roundabouts and as we found out later is second only to Milton Keynes itself for roundabout hell.
After our sat nav, nicked named 'Fiona' for reasons lost in the mists of time, tried to direct us up what was clearly an overgrown footpath we managed to reach the Carew Arms in Crowcombe. From the outside it looks like a ramshackle old building but the BnB rooms are modern and clean the bar is proper old fashioned with stags head and things on the walls and a skittles alley! They also serve some great beers and fantastic curries on a Wed night which is when we stopped. Bonus!
The most important thing though is that we as two strangers in the bar got into two great conversations with two separate groups of locals who were more than friendly. It really made us feel welcome and wanted which after a long day of traveling is exactly what you need in a pub. Which is where we heard about the landowners who own the pub and most of the surrounding buildings, which they paint a particular colour."If it's falling apart and painted blue it belongs to the Carews."
A few more pints of the Excellent Exmoor Ale and much putting the world to rights with people I didn't know from Adam an hour ago and it was time for bed.
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