Henry Charles Hodson
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Fundraising for Somerset Churches Trust
Story
So … will aching muscles and blisters have helped preserve our wonderful old churches and chapels? On Saturday 11th September Heike and I got up early and joined a group of people from local West Somerset parishes aiming to walk between all seven local churches, a distance of 15 miles, nearly 24 kms.The bottom line is: Heike and I, plus four others, made it all the way round. But it wasn’t going to be easy ... Here’s how my day went.
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5:45 am: The first thing I hear as I wake up is the rain outside. Steady rain. Walking 15 miles in this could be a bit of a challenge. 6:15 am: Heike and I are out in the drizzle in our dressing-gowns putting a ladder up. As we returned from letting our chickens out and giving them their breakfast, we noticed water running down the wall from an overflowing gutter. Five or ten minutes trying to get nasty wet leaves out of the downpipes -- just what you want before dawn when you’re in a rush! 7:10 am: I load my folding bike onto our Land Rover pickup and head along a farm track up the hill to Elworthy Church. It’s actually the last of the seven churches on today’s itinerary but one of my duties as organiser is to provide transport back to the start point for those who complete the entire circuit, and the Land Rover is ideal. It’s getting light now (though not VERY light, it has to be said). 7:20 am: I park and lock up the Land Rover, unfold my bike and head off towards the start point. It’s basically a freewheel down a narrow steep winding country lane – a joy on a normal bike but a little scary on a folding bike designed for cities: it doesn’t have very good brakes and tends to jack-knife if they’re applied too hard. I’m praying not to encounter anyone coming fast in the opposite direction, but in the end it’s pheasants that are the problem. The lane runs through a big sporting estate and at this time of the year the goofy birds are everywhere, including all over the road. Startled flocks of them part like the waters of the Red Sea as I speed through, flying off with a loud clatter of complaint at having their breakfast disturbed. 7:30 am: The showers have stopped. I rendezvous with Heike, load the bike into her car and we head for Nettlecombe Church, our start point. Thanks to the blocked gutter we’re slightly late and the keenest of our starting group of ten walkers are already heading off. We greet them, park the car and nip inside to sign in: it’s a well organised national event and there’s a register of visitors to each church. Nettlecombe has an exquisite medieval font and is the most beautifully situated of all our churches, nestled in a picturesque valley beside an ancient manor house. There’s no actual village here, so parishioners are thin on the ground – a challenge to those who maintain this lovely building. But this building inspires a deep devotion, and of the six people who will complete the circuit, three are from Nettlecombe, including our youngest walker, 13-year-old Sarah Wynne, a veteran of the 2007, 2008 and 2009 “Ride & Strides”. At this stage the party consists of her, ten adults, two Springer spaniels and our two Labradors, Dotty and Charlock. 8:20 am: The skies are brightening and a ramble along a meandering stream brings us to our second church, Monksilver. It’s another medieval gem whose timeworn wooden pews barely seat a hundred people. We’re joined by our oldest walker, Gordon Yeo, a warm and gentle man who used to have his own book business -- and a treasured friend to all who know him. Over the next (11) miles he and I will share many a conversation. 9:10 am: A few shafts of sunlight appear through the clouds. Heike, who also knows the route, zooms ahead to lead the group, and I stay behind to make sure everyone knows where to go. Walking through a forest, Gordon and I arrive at a tiny footbridge across a stream. A notice explains that ancient folklore dictates that all who cross must carry a small coin in their open palm to appease the spirits of the trees felled to make the bridge, and leave our modest offering on the post on the other side. We obey, adding our coins to the collection of 1p, 2p and 5p pieces. 9:40 am: We arrive at Sampford Brett church and allow ourselves our first proper break. This parish is well known for its hospitality, and the cheese scones and brownies are more than welcome after (5) miles of walking. Sampford Brett’s most famous son, Sir Richard Le Brett (or le Breton), was one of the four knights who slew Archbishop Thomas Becket in Canterbury Cathedral in 1170, creating medieval England’s most venerated martyr saint, and a family tree in the north transept traces almost a millennium of association between Le Brett’s descendants and this church. 10:40 am: we cross the tracks belonging to our local heritage railway, the West Somerset Railway, hoping in vain to catch a close-up view of one of its splendid steam trains as it passes. Instead, trouble strikes. One of our older walkers is tiring and is losing her sense of balance; I literally have to catch her as she topples backwards on a steep woodland path. We guide her gently to the nearest road where somebody rushes into the next village for help. Quarter of an hour later a local resident appears in a very plush Jaguar car; our tired friend is whisked off home in rather grander style than the rest of us. We trudge on, consoled by ever clearer skies. 11:15 am: We arrive at Bicknoller Church in time for a reviving cup of tea and a chat with the two kindly ladies who’ve given up much of their Saturday to provide refreshments for those on the sponsored “ride and stride”. The unique feature here is an elaborately carved rood screen. Four churches down, and three to go – but after this the churches are more widely spaced. We have three miles to go to the next one, Crowcombe. 12:05 pm: An angry dog blocks our path, barking furiously. Gordon and I hesitate, but only for a moment. The beast is only about a foot high and can’t weigh more than a few pounds. In fact, that’s not a bark, it’s a yap. We saunter on, feeling brave, and the dog sourly beats a retreat. Who’d be a small dog, eh? 12:45 pm: It’s a sunlit day. The Carew Arms pub beckons to us as we pass but we soldier on past. Our fifth church of the day is just beyond, and we stop to pass the time of day with yet another good soul who has given up her Saturday to look after us. The conversation turns to the subject of losing things. There’s a wedding in the church later and apparently at the rehearsal two days ago the bride lost the diamond out of her engagement ring. It’s still there somewhere, no doubt wedged unnoticed into a crack between two flagstones ... 1:00 pm: it’s time for the Carew Arms at last, and we join the rest of the party in the garden. The numbers have been thinning out a bit, but two friends from our own village of Stogumber join us, along with a couple of Sarah’s friends and two more Labradors, so we’re back up to strength: eight adults, three children and six dogs. Guess which participants have the most energy and enthusiasm at this post-lunch hour? I blame my inertia on the beer. 2:00 pm: We strike out for Stogumber, more than three miles away but with the thought of a church garden party and a cream tea to keep us going. The attractive Doniford Stream marks the boundary between the two parishes, and we cross it on a romantic bridge by a ford. The dogs wade in joyfully to cool off, and can’t understand why their owners don’t want to join them. 3:50 pm: There a few sights more welcome than my friends Daphne Criddle and Bridget Weir standing beaming behind a table covered with plates of scones, cream, jam and cake. 4:30 pm: Gordon says his goodbyes. He’s done five churches, more than 10 miles, and I hope he’ll forgive me for saying he’ll be 80 in February. They don’t make them like him any more. Rally the troops for the final leg of the circuit. Three miles to go, but 80 metres to climb. At this stage of the day, a big ask. 5:00 pm: Clambering over a double stile leading through a particularly prickly hedge, we emerge into a field full of cows. Except some of them are bulls, and some are calves, and that’s a bad combination if the bulls decide to be over-protective. And some of the bulls are HUGE. Luckily, they just stare as we walk gingerly round them. No aggression there (these are Herefords, outsize pussy-cats), just simple bovine curiosity. We’re probably the most interesting thing that’s happened to them all afternoon. 5:30 pm: A steady climb, over the ridge, down a dark mysterious lane and we arrive at last at Elworthy Church, its porch guarded by a vast yew said to have stood here when the Normans came in 1066. Inside, we drink in the serenity of this tiny church. The rood screen dates from 1632 and the inscription reads “O LORD PREPARE OUR ARTS TO PRAYE”. Classic. The girls find a mysterious flight of stairs and emerge suddenly up in the midget-sized pulpit, their heads barely visible above the parapet. We take final photographs and then pile into the Land Rover, three people and one dog up front, three more and the remaining five dogs crammed into the back in one happy squirming mass. We’ll all sleep well tonight. =========================
5:45 am: The first thing I hear as I wake up is the rain outside. Steady rain. Walking 15 miles in this could be a bit of a challenge. 6:15 am: Heike and I are out in the drizzle in our dressing-gowns putting a ladder up. As we returned from letting our chickens out and giving them their breakfast, we noticed water running down the wall from an overflowing gutter. Five or ten minutes trying to get nasty wet leaves out of the downpipes -- just what you want before dawn when you’re in a rush! 7:10 am: I load my folding bike onto our Land Rover pickup and head along a farm track up the hill to Elworthy Church. It’s actually the last of the seven churches on today’s itinerary but one of my duties as organiser is to provide transport back to the start point for those who complete the entire circuit, and the Land Rover is ideal. It’s getting light now (though not VERY light, it has to be said). 7:20 am: I park and lock up the Land Rover, unfold my bike and head off towards the start point. It’s basically a freewheel down a narrow steep winding country lane – a joy on a normal bike but a little scary on a folding bike designed for cities: it doesn’t have very good brakes and tends to jack-knife if they’re applied too hard. I’m praying not to encounter anyone coming fast in the opposite direction, but in the end it’s pheasants that are the problem. The lane runs through a big sporting estate and at this time of the year the goofy birds are everywhere, including all over the road. Startled flocks of them part like the waters of the Red Sea as I speed through, flying off with a loud clatter of complaint at having their breakfast disturbed. 7:30 am: The showers have stopped. I rendezvous with Heike, load the bike into her car and we head for Nettlecombe Church, our start point. Thanks to the blocked gutter we’re slightly late and the keenest of our starting group of ten walkers are already heading off. We greet them, park the car and nip inside to sign in: it’s a well organised national event and there’s a register of visitors to each church. Nettlecombe has an exquisite medieval font and is the most beautifully situated of all our churches, nestled in a picturesque valley beside an ancient manor house. There’s no actual village here, so parishioners are thin on the ground – a challenge to those who maintain this lovely building. But this building inspires a deep devotion, and of the six people who will complete the circuit, three are from Nettlecombe, including our youngest walker, 13-year-old Sarah Wynne, a veteran of the 2007, 2008 and 2009 “Ride & Strides”. At this stage the party consists of her, ten adults, two Springer spaniels and our two Labradors, Dotty and Charlock. 8:20 am: The skies are brightening and a ramble along a meandering stream brings us to our second church, Monksilver. It’s another medieval gem whose timeworn wooden pews barely seat a hundred people. We’re joined by our oldest walker, Gordon Yeo, a warm and gentle man who used to have his own book business -- and a treasured friend to all who know him. Over the next (11) miles he and I will share many a conversation. 9:10 am: A few shafts of sunlight appear through the clouds. Heike, who also knows the route, zooms ahead to lead the group, and I stay behind to make sure everyone knows where to go. Walking through a forest, Gordon and I arrive at a tiny footbridge across a stream. A notice explains that ancient folklore dictates that all who cross must carry a small coin in their open palm to appease the spirits of the trees felled to make the bridge, and leave our modest offering on the post on the other side. We obey, adding our coins to the collection of 1p, 2p and 5p pieces. 9:40 am: We arrive at Sampford Brett church and allow ourselves our first proper break. This parish is well known for its hospitality, and the cheese scones and brownies are more than welcome after (5) miles of walking. Sampford Brett’s most famous son, Sir Richard Le Brett (or le Breton), was one of the four knights who slew Archbishop Thomas Becket in Canterbury Cathedral in 1170, creating medieval England’s most venerated martyr saint, and a family tree in the north transept traces almost a millennium of association between Le Brett’s descendants and this church. 10:40 am: we cross the tracks belonging to our local heritage railway, the West Somerset Railway, hoping in vain to catch a close-up view of one of its splendid steam trains as it passes. Instead, trouble strikes. One of our older walkers is tiring and is losing her sense of balance; I literally have to catch her as she topples backwards on a steep woodland path. We guide her gently to the nearest road where somebody rushes into the next village for help. Quarter of an hour later a local resident appears in a very plush Jaguar car; our tired friend is whisked off home in rather grander style than the rest of us. We trudge on, consoled by ever clearer skies. 11:15 am: We arrive at Bicknoller Church in time for a reviving cup of tea and a chat with the two kindly ladies who’ve given up much of their Saturday to provide refreshments for those on the sponsored “ride and stride”. The unique feature here is an elaborately carved rood screen. Four churches down, and three to go – but after this the churches are more widely spaced. We have three miles to go to the next one, Crowcombe. 12:05 pm: An angry dog blocks our path, barking furiously. Gordon and I hesitate, but only for a moment. The beast is only about a foot high and can’t weigh more than a few pounds. In fact, that’s not a bark, it’s a yap. We saunter on, feeling brave, and the dog sourly beats a retreat. Who’d be a small dog, eh? 12:45 pm: It’s a sunlit day. The Carew Arms pub beckons to us as we pass but we soldier on past. Our fifth church of the day is just beyond, and we stop to pass the time of day with yet another good soul who has given up her Saturday to look after us. The conversation turns to the subject of losing things. There’s a wedding in the church later and apparently at the rehearsal two days ago the bride lost the diamond out of her engagement ring. It’s still there somewhere, no doubt wedged unnoticed into a crack between two flagstones ... 1:00 pm: it’s time for the Carew Arms at last, and we join the rest of the party in the garden. The numbers have been thinning out a bit, but two friends from our own village of Stogumber join us, along with a couple of Sarah’s friends and two more Labradors, so we’re back up to strength: eight adults, three children and six dogs. Guess which participants have the most energy and enthusiasm at this post-lunch hour? I blame my inertia on the beer. 2:00 pm: We strike out for Stogumber, more than three miles away but with the thought of a church garden party and a cream tea to keep us going. The attractive Doniford Stream marks the boundary between the two parishes, and we cross it on a romantic bridge by a ford. The dogs wade in joyfully to cool off, and can’t understand why their owners don’t want to join them. 3:50 pm: There a few sights more welcome than my friends Daphne Criddle and Bridget Weir standing beaming behind a table covered with plates of scones, cream, jam and cake. 4:30 pm: Gordon says his goodbyes. He’s done five churches, more than 10 miles, and I hope he’ll forgive me for saying he’ll be 80 in February. They don’t make them like him any more. Rally the troops for the final leg of the circuit. Three miles to go, but 80 metres to climb. At this stage of the day, a big ask. 5:00 pm: Clambering over a double stile leading through a particularly prickly hedge, we emerge into a field full of cows. Except some of them are bulls, and some are calves, and that’s a bad combination if the bulls decide to be over-protective. And some of the bulls are HUGE. Luckily, they just stare as we walk gingerly round them. No aggression there (these are Herefords, outsize pussy-cats), just simple bovine curiosity. We’re probably the most interesting thing that’s happened to them all afternoon. 5:30 pm: A steady climb, over the ridge, down a dark mysterious lane and we arrive at last at Elworthy Church, its porch guarded by a vast yew said to have stood here when the Normans came in 1066. Inside, we drink in the serenity of this tiny church. The rood screen dates from 1632 and the inscription reads “O LORD PREPARE OUR ARTS TO PRAYE”. Classic. The girls find a mysterious flight of stairs and emerge suddenly up in the midget-sized pulpit, their heads barely visible above the parapet. We take final photographs and then pile into the Land Rover, three people and one dog up front, three more and the remaining five dogs crammed into the back in one happy squirming mass. We’ll all sleep well tonight. =========================
We were taking part in a national event, the "Ride 'n' Stride", which raises money for the upkeep of ancient chapels and churches of all denominations across the country. Our contributions will go to the local affiliated organisation, the Friends of Somerset Churches and Chapels, with half the money coming back to our own local church, St Mary's, Stogumber.
We're hoping you will dig deep to support us as we raise money to maintain some of Somerset's most attractive buildings, often in remote and beautiful locations, and keep them safe for future generations.
Thanks again for all your support, Charles