I lost count of the times today when I nearly fell into the mud, over stiles or into puddles from laughing. My companion was on fine form telling stories and jokes .. seeing the humorous side in most everything. Even when I found it just about impossible to find the elusive Macmillan Way West and took her off-piste several times, she remained in fine fettle .. without a word of blame. (‘Yeah, you seem to be able to find me The Green Way, The Coleridge Way, The West Deane Way but no flippin’ MacMillan Way’, she now chirps.)

There was a definite theme of treasure today. It started with us thanking the two treasures, Nell and Graham at The Old Stag’s Head for their kind hospitality and generous donation to SANE. http://www.tauntonbandb.co.uk/contact-us

The idea was to reconnect with the Macmillan Way West by first walking to West Bagborough. It was another soft day .. mist and a little gentle drizzle. The Quantocks were shrouded in cloud, making them barely visible.

Mist over the hills

In 2001 a British copper called James Hawkesworth, was out walking in a field close to West Bagborough, when the metal detector he was carrying went berserk. Gentle, or more likely, frantic digging at the spot revealed what became known as The West Bagborough Hoard .. 670 Roman coins and 72 pieces of hacksilver. Sadly for PC Hawkesworth the find was declared a ‘treasure’. Sadly, because the heap of coins worth £40,000 today’s, became the property of the state, rather than swelling his own bank account. The concept of ‘treasure trove’ in English law dates back to 1066. The law says that any collection of silver or gold which has been hidden and is rediscovered later when the hiders of the treasure are long since dead, becomes the property of the Crown.

As we crossed the first of the muddy fields, we could hear gales of giggles coming from the other side of the hedge. Turned out to be a couple of fit-looking cyclists, making their way up the hill. We all stopped for a chat, like you do and before long I found out that one of them had cycled from Land’s End to John o’Groats, just a couple of years ago. She’d been the youngest in the group who made the journey, accompanied by a dozen octogenarians. She regaled some of her memories of the trip with infectious joy .. I so hope that she goes ahead and publishes her story .. I’ll be the first in line to buy it.

Lovely LEJOGer cyclist

As we stumbled over the first of many stiles, we realised we weren’t only amusing ourselves but also a bunch of extremely curious lamas in the next field. There they stood, posing like Elite models with freshly coiffed hair.

Coiffed lamas

We asked if they’d mind us taking a selfie with them ..

Does our hair meet the grade?

They were terribly obliging. But then of course, there’s always a photo bomber ..

Pick me! Pick me!

We eventually tore ourselves away from the woolly wonders and headed off in pursuit of the Macmillan Way West. En route we had to cross Wheddon’s Farm, extremely slowly ..

Onwards and upwards. To Cothelstone. And it’s manor house and beautiful parklands and church.

Cothelstone

Bearing in mind Conrad’s advice, we called in at the church. St Thomas of Canterbury Church at Cothelstone dates from the 12th century and when we visited, two members of the parish were there, busy polishing the brass. The stone and alabaster effigies were beautiful.

Sir Matthew and Lady Eleanor Stawell. 14th century

Sir John Stawell and his wife Frances Dyer. 1603.

Once again, we were the recipients of coffee kindness, courtesy of the church. Thank you so much, lovely ladies.

Home-made jams from the Manor’s organic farm for sale in the church

As the Macmillan Way West eluded us we wandered, lonely as clouds, above golden fields of Miscanthus giganteus, known commonly as elephant grass. It looked amazingly sculptural.

Miscanthus

Fields of Elephant Grass

Even though we were tramping through Somme-like proportions of mud, Adi still found time to make friends with a pheasant. Every other pheasant we’d met so far had been as timid as a church mouse but this one was positively flirtatious. He would have followed her to the ends of the earth.

Freakishly familiar pheasant

The Macmillan Way West remained mystical, mysterious and quite frankly just unfindable. No sooner did we find it than it disappeared .. although this probably says more about my map-reading than the Way. (Soft sardonic grunt from Adi!). In its pursuit we encountered more mud than I thought could possibly exist, even on the Mudbank. It certainly impressed the receptionist at the hotel at the end of the day when I walked in carrying most of it on my boots .. not necessarily in a good way.

Mud and water in extremis .. quite impressive to a drought-familiar Cape Townian

Glorious? Not so much

Our destination for the day was North Petherton. Apart from Chaucer possibly having lived there, the town’s biggest claim to fame is the discovery of the beautiful Alfred Jewel, found also in a field in 1693, almost 800 years after it had been lost. It had belonged to Alfred the Great, king of the West Saxons. Alfred was one of only two monarchs to earn the epithet Great in UK (Cnut’s the other one) and he’s still considered to have been one of the most enlightened. But being enlightened doesn’t necessarily make you a great cook and ironically, if there’s one thing English school children will know about Alfred the Great, it is that he burnt the cakes, whilst hiding in a peasant woman’s kitchen … and that she scolded him roundly for it. Yeah, he successfully defended his country against the Vikings and ok, he improved the kingdom’s legal system, military structure and significantly raised the standard of living for all .. but he still burnt the cakes. Mary Berry would never have called him Great .. but maybe Jamie Oliver would have been more understanding!

Black Dog Tails
Meet Lucky and Flo. They were the first dogs to detect optical discs by sniffing them out. They’ve uncovered thousands of counterfeit dvds at airports. Clever dogs!