Visiting Snowdrop Valley
Yesterday, Marcy and I escaped the confines of the house for the first time this year and went for a drive in the pleasant spring sunshine down to the edge of Exmoor, to visit Snowdrop Valley, a journey of about 50 miles. The snowdrops were long gone — the season this year was mid-February — but we wanted to check it out anyway.
It’s accessible from Wheddon Cross, a few miles from Dunster. During the snowdrop season there’s a park and ride bus service from Wheddon’s Rest And Be Thankful pub. Out of season, well, there’s no call for it really, as the snowdrops only last a few weeks, so visitors are left to their own devices.
We had a great lunch at the pub and contemplated making the 45-minute walk from there, across a few fields and through some woods down into the valley, but when the landlord said there’s room to park “a few cars nearby — if you’re lucky,” we decided to take the car instead because the walk back would have been all uphill! After our (excellent, home-cooked) ham, egg and chips we didn’t feel we’d be in the mood for it. (And I’m very lazy!)
We followed a little road out of Wheddon for a mile or so, then turned right down an even narrower single-track lane – which meandered deeper and deeper into the valley. Glad we didn’t meet anything coming the other way! After about another mile we passed a gate on the left which we took to be the entrance to Snowdrop Valley proper. The land is privately owned but well-maintained, with a footpath and a rope barrier to help prevent visitors trampling the plants. We parked on the muddy lay-by (we were the only visitors, which was just as well as there was only room for about three cars) and went through the gate.
There’s a little river — the Avill — running along the floor of this peaceful haven, and either side was carpeted with the green leaves of the snowdrop plants along with many other wild flowers (most of which weren’t in bloom). Ancient, mossy trees also dominate the area. After about a quarter of a mile the path crosses the river via a little wooden bridge and you can then walk back along the other side, eventually returning to the lane just a little further along from where the car was parked. It was a gentle walk — certainly much easier than the slog down from and back up to the pub would have been!
At this point, dear reader, I wish I had some photos to show you — but my camera’s batteries ran out at this crucial time, and the spare pair in my pocket proved to be flat as well! (And I still haven’t figured out how to get pics from my new Kodak camera onto the PC. Hrumpf.)
Then we returned to the car and continued on down the lane until it met with the main road back to Dunster. On the way back we stopped off at Watchett Harbour for a coffee and danish in a pub. The danish looked a bit dog-eared but proved to be quite tasty. A man was smoking a cigar in the bar. I normally don’t mind sitting in a smokey area — I’m a heavy smoker myself — but his smelly clouds of cigar smoke wafting around quite annoyed me. I still don’t think smoking should be banned in every enclosed public area — why can’t they allow pubs and clubs to have smoking areas for smokers, and a ‘clean’ area for non-smokers, or even allow some premises to be all-smoking, if that’s what the owners decide they want to do? Stupid nanny state.
I couldn’t twitter while at Wheddon Cross or down in the valley, as there was no phone signal. I was quite freaked out by this and felt cut off from my new community.
Fifty-odd miles later we were back home and I was twittering away again like a good ‘un.
Anyway, I can see why they operate the park and ride in the snowdrop season — it must be quite frantic down there in February!
