Cheddar was already busy with tourists on the Saturday of a sunny Bank Holiday. The roads were also full of cyclists, hundreds of them panting up the gorge in a procession of sweaty Lycra.
I followed the road at a less breathless pace past the souvenir shops. I spotted the one that fuelled a merry afternoon's climb with a gallon of rough cider when I came with friends on holiday as a nineteen year old. I decided it would be unwise to repeat the experience this time.
The Gorge is one of England's natural wonders and still impresses after a number of visits. As the road climbs the cliffs get closer and steeper. There were plenty of walkers and climbers about and a convoy of vintage Jaguar cars came down the hill.
I left the road through a gate and headed up 'Velvet Bottom', a path that lead past the Black Rock and the valley where lead ore was mined and refined. The Romans exploited the mineral deposits, which continued to be worked right up to the nineteenth century. Sure enough, the grass was as velvety as the name promised, and was cropped like snooker beize by the huge numbers of rabbits.
By now it was becoming a gloriously sunny day. The high clouds thinned and the sun grew in strength.
I had climbed to 850 feet and the going was steady. Sadly, when I reached the Wellsway Inn it was closed. I checked Google Maps and it confirmed that the next pub on the route was The Blue Bowl. I rang ahead to make sure they were open.
(continued in part 2)
Greetings to you, Simon. Your entertaining blog is a delight and may well become one of the great walking routes of Europe. I have only just become aware of the extent of these routes across greater Europe and returned only yesterday from Spain after having ambled down the well-trodden El Camino, Frances - a route now frequented as much by "tourists" as pilgrims and who now stream in convey at the rate of 100,000 + a year. Notwithstanding, a magical experience for all the religious/sporting/recreational motives but more importantly a great social event as one is able to spend hours, and sometimes days, in the company of a complete stranger often conversing in a second language or franglais/spanglish. A great opportunity to exercise all the remnant schoolboy French and German fragments from 50 years ago. Incidentaly,I am the brother of the guy whom you met near Shaftsbury? recently and I live in Australia.
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