THE TOR – 20 aug, 2018
Had a rest for five minutes and tried a bit of whittling
Day 16 Land’s End to John O’Groats – Stawell to Wookey
Distance: 22km
Cumulative distance: 394km
I went to the fridge first thing this morning, and just as Glyn had promised there was a bowl of delicious porridge in there waiting for me. He’d added some caramel and some milk to the oats and it was absolutely delightful. Just on the subject of porridge…before I began I bought a 1kg bag of oats from Sainsubury’s and I’ve been lugging these around since I started. Now porridge isn’t exactly going to have you bounding off your sleeping mat and out of the tent most mornings, but every time I cook some up, I’m shaving off a bit of weight from my back so I’ve been trying to eat it most mornings. Unlike Glyn’s variety, mine is simply cooked in boiling water on my stove. I’ve run a fat spoonful of peanut butter through it before, and on a good day I’ve added Nutella or oreos but that’s about as fancy as it gets. This was a much welcome change. I’d also invested a bit of time into icing my leg last night, and again before I set off this morning and it actually made the world of difference. The swelling had come down and the pain wasn’t as heavy so I figured it was finally on the mend. I guess it’s all just part of the body getting used to its new purpose in life, and mine is slowly but surely figuring it all out.
Before I set off I had two life goals for the day.
– Don’t get lost in a farmer’s field and
– Don’t walk on busy roads.
Frankly, I’d had enough of doing both and I was determined to come up with an alternative solution today now that my leg wasn’t occupying every square inch of my thoughts. I washed up the bowl that harboured Glyn’s porridge and dropped it back at the house before I left, thanking Jackie once more for looking after us so well. Then I was off having mapped out a route to Glastonbury, comprising mostly of country lanes and a little bit of canal walking. I ambled through Eddington, past Catcott and down into Shapwick making pretty decent time. I would have made better time had I used the busier roads but I was more than happy with this compromise. I went on to Ashcott where I’d decided I would have a spell in a café, but after walking around town for 20 minutes I couldn’t find anything. The pub wasn’t opening until midday, there was no café, and the only shop I found had a big foreclosure notice on its front door. So I sat at a bench and made a couple of Nutella wraps as I light drizzle started to fall.
After about 45 minutes of faffing about I resumed the path to Glastonbury, and found a canal on the Somerset Levels that took me to the outskirts. By mid-morning I’d had a few glimpses of the famous Glastonbury Tor, a hill overlooking the town with a tower on top. It only rises to 158 metres, but on the Levels it stood right out from miles away, almost like a gentle hill with a gravestone poking out of the top. It became bigger and bigger as I walked towards it throughout the day, then disappeared as I hit the outskirts of town and went off to buy a paper and a Subway (first one I’ve had since I started and I made sure they loaded it up with salads).
I headed off into town and it was pretty cool. Very touristy, as you can imagine, and it was full of hippies which was sensational. Plenty of long-haired folk walking around smelling of leaf, fortune tellers on the high street, Buddhist places, yoga studios and so on. Apart from the festival the town hosts every year (except this one), this is supposedly the place where King Arthur is buried – he of Tintagel conception fame. Just where that is I’m not too sure, but I wasn’t about to part with 10 quid or whatever it was to check out the old abbey and hunt for his gravesite in there. Joseph of Arimathea supposedly visited Glastonbury back in the day and there’s even talk that Jesus popped into town on one occasion. Townsfolk seem quite pleased to be living in the shadow of the Tor – most of the local businesses I found incorporated it into their name – Tor roofing, Tor solicitors, Tor Hammers, Corner Tor, Underground Tor-ture Supplies…you get the drift. The Tor itself was about a mile’s walk out of town so I set off for it, not to go all the way to the top but to try and get a better look at it. I walked about half a mile, then turned around and headed back and out of town. I just wasn’t in the mood for adding another hill at this stage and setting my leg back another couple of days.
After leaving town I put on the afterburners to Godney across more quiet roads, then weaved my way through a very straight forward farmer’s field (thankfully) and past a couple of small villages to Wookey, where I found another farm that offers camping. It was pretty well set up actually, they had a bunch of pigs there which they farm to harvest their own bacon, ham and pork (wonderful, maaagical animal – H Simpson) and also a stack of goats, a cheese making centre and tours for people who want to know how farming animals actually works. After pitching up I walked about a km extra into town and immediately got chatting to a few locals in a pub who were:
A) Fascinated I was in Wookey and
B ) Fascinated I was Australian
There was a fella in there drinking with his two grandsons, and he bought me a pint as we chatted away for about an hour. Good lads they were, and full of questions about Australia and sharks and such things which I happily answered until they were picked up and whisked back home. I went and had a feed and read the Times’ Monday football liftout (long a tradition of mine when I’m in the UK), then strolled home in pitch-black darkness to sleep.
