Wessex Ridgeway: Tisbury to Maiden Newton (almost)

This was always going to be the most challenging section of my walk along the Wessex Ridgeway, given the way I'd split it into chunks, such that each chunk started and ended at a station (with the exception of the very start and the very end of the overall route). On this bit of the route there was a long gap between stations. As such, it either needed to be a three day walk, or a really ambitious (for me) two day walk. In the end I decided to try and cut some corners here and there, but make it a two day walk.

I got the 8:20am train from Waterloo to Tisbury, arriving there at 10:06. After departing from Tisbury the first point of interest - and also where I rejoined the Wessex Ridgeway - was Old Wardour Castle. A ruin now, but one with still a lot of structure present, it dates to the 14th century, and apparently last saw action in the civil war. I was tempted to pause here and take a more thorough look around, but I was only a couple of miles into my walk at this point, and felt compelled to press on.

A short way beyond Wardour Castle, I found this gateway into an area of woodland quite intriguing.

I then caught a glimpse of New Wardour Castle in the distance, which didn't really look much like a castle, but as a stately home seemed suitably grand and imposing.

A mixed bag of countryside beyond Old and New Wardour Castle - a lake, some wooded sections, and some farmland, before coming to a path I had a feeling the farmer didn't want anyone to walk down, through a field of corn, with the Wessex Ridgeway sign partly covered up by a sheet of plastic. Beyond this the route brought me to Ludwell.

Although only two hours into my walk, it had just gone midday when I arrived in Ludwell, and I decided it would be prudent to stop at the Grove Arms for lunch - it would be several miles before the next pub on the route. This also gave me an opportunity to video call my daughter Erika, who is currently in Japan, so despite the slight irritation of the constant passing traffic I had a very nice time sat outside this pub.

Beyond Ludwell, I passed watercress beds, fields of some grain I couldn't identify, and then an area of woodland.

After the woods, I took one of today's first shortcuts, and left the Wessex Ridgeway for a while to instead follow a road which was a more direct route. I may have missed out on a scenic view or two this way, but felt the compromise was worthwhile in terms of making the walk a bit more manageable, and at least parts of the walk along the road were pleasant enough.

Somewhere around here I would have crossed the border into Dorset. Although arbitrary in a way, it felt like quite an achievement. Adding on my walk along the Ridgeway in 2020, I had come through Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire, Oxfordshire, Berkshire, Wiltshire, and now into Dorset, where that chalk seam I had been roughly following all that way would eventually meet the sea.

The road led me to the little village of Ashmore, my first proper encounter of Dorset on the route, wherein I found the sign warning of the perils of overhanging thatch rather charming. As far as I could tell from the map, the village didn't have a pub, nor did I expect a village shop. However...

...I was rather surprised and delighted to find a little vending machine corner in the village. The left hand side vending machine sold coffee, and the right hand side one sold mainly dairy items: cheese, milk, and also strangely Coca Cola and Maltesers. I availed myself of an espresso from the coffee machine, and was very tempted by the halloumi with chilli in the cheese vending machine, but given that I still had five or six hours walking ahead of me, I didn't think it would fare too well in my backpack. I did at least pick up a small bag of some kind of dried cheese snack though.

After Ashmore came Ashmore Wood, which covered an area far larger than the village. The weather had started to warm up a bit by this point in the afternoon, so I was quite glad of the cool shade of the trees here. I was however a bit surprised by the extent of the mud on some parts of the path through Ashmore Wood. Wasn't it supposed to be the middle of August?

Beyond Ashmore Wood there was a stretch of the path which led eventually to a village with an identity crisis: called either Iwerne Courtney or Shroton. I struggle to think of a time I'd previously encountered this level of indecision over what to call a place. I had hoped I might be able to stop off at the pub here for another restorative pint of ale, but alas it was around 5pm, during that late afternoon / early evening interregnum country pubs often have where they close for a while. So I kept walking through.

After the village rather greedily hogging two names I had a fair old haul up Hambledon Hill. At the trig point at the top very pleasant views of the surrounding countryside were to be had. In terms of scenery this was probably the nicest spot on today's walk, helped perhaps by the favourable light as afternoon gave way into the early evening.

Over the other side of Hambledon Hill, I passed Hanford House school, and then over one bridge, and under another, before I came to Shillingstone.

I contemplated stopping in Shillingstone for that restorative pint of ale I had hoped to have earlier, but a quick look on my phone suggested the local pub wasn't going to by my sort of thing, and I was keen instead to press on and get to my campsite before sunset. Passing through Shillingstone I did however see what I believe to be a dead adder on the road. It was upside down, and a bit squashed, therefore not so easy to identify. 

Another steep climb after leaving Shillgstone, a wooded path up Shillingstone Hill into Blandford Forest. This was rather hard work and I had to stop a couple of times part way up to catch my breath, and drink some water.

I was onto the home straight as far as today's walk went though. Not much in the way of climbing left to do, and a fairly easy hilltop track to follow for the rest of the day. The only slight annoyance (actually fairly notable annoyance at times) was a cloud of flies that seemed determine to follow me along towards the end of this section, and generally make a nuisance of themselves.

I arrived at my campsite for the night at just before 8pm. So taking into account about an hour of rest stops, I'd been walking for 9 hours, and had according to my phone covered 23 miles. West Hill Camping is superbly located for the Wessex Ridgeway - the route takes you right past the gate. It's a lovely spot on top of the hill, and I was able to watch the sun setting as I was setting up camp and making dinner. Amazingly, considering it was a Saturday night in the middle of August, I had the whole field to myself.

I had another Summit To Eat meal for dinner, this time a change from the usual macaroni cheese, I instead tried their arrabbiata pasta, which I supplemented with the dried cheese snacks I had picked up in the cheese vending machine earlier. It was actually rather quite nice, but then I suppose anything would taste good after 9 hours and 23 miles of walking. 

Fairly soon after dinner I was ready for bed. I still couldn't sleep very well, despite having side stepped the usual paranaoia of wild camping. I was warm, relatively comfortable, and kept dry thanks to the tarp and bivvy bag. I think I even managed to largely escape being bitten by bugs, to begin with I was faffing around with a bug net, but eventually got fed up with it and just cinched up the bivvy bag so I had hardly any of my face showing.

Hard to pinpoint what prevented me from getting a decent night's sleep - I was surely tired enough after that walk. Being on a hilltop meant there was no perfectly flat ground, so I was on a bit of a slope, and therefore would gradually slide downwards over time. That probably didn't help. Plus the bivvy bag, despite being a large one, is still a bit restrictive in terms of attempts to sleep on my side.

Still, I had the dwindling light of the sun to look at, and then later on some stars now and again (I wish I'd had a go at some astrophotography now), so even though I couldn't sleep very well, it was certainly a more pleasant night than I'd had the past couple of times I'd attempted camping.

I think possibly the best bit of sleep I managed was from around 3am, surprisingly helped by it starting to rain gently. It was either the soothing sound of rain drops on the tarp, or just the realisation that I was much better off staying put in the dry of the bivvy / tarp at that point than contemplating getting up and doing anything. Or maybe I was just sufficiently tired by then to actually doze off for a while.

So compared to my last few walks where I'd attempted to camp in the middle, this morning I had what practically amounted to a lie in. I didn't start packing up until some time gone 6am, and as the photo above (of the spot in the field where my camp had been) attests it was after 6:30 by the time I headed off. My tarp, bivvy bag and ground sheet were all soaking wet, so it wasn't much fun packing them up, but I had managed to stay pretty much perfectly warm and dry overnight, which was gratifying.

It was a very damp, grey and misty start to the second day of walking. To begin with, there was a stretch along a road, which I appreciated, as at least to begin with this kept my feet relatively dry.

At Bulbarrow Hill / Rawlsbury Camp the route of the Wessex Ridgeway left the road, I was into wet grass, and within minutes my feet were soaking wet. I took a bit of a wrong turn, and ended up walking almost the whole way round Rawlsbury Camp, which did look quite evocative in the morning mist, but alas from here on my enthusiasm for the walk began to diminish.

It rather seemed as though I was then beset with obstacles, sent to try my patience, from gates which were difficult to open, to soaking wet grass, to muddy paths, and at one point a "ford" as marked on the map, which in effect seemed to mean a stream had entirely raken over the course of the path for a section.

Further trials and tribulations followed, including a section where the path went through the middle of a field of some tall grassy grain crop, which was absolutely soaking wet, and so consequently my trousers got soaking wet too.

My mood was lifted a little by arriving at Dorsetshire Gap, apparently an historic junction of ancient tracks. This was quite a scenic spot, and the skies had also brightened a bit by this point too, at least looking in one direction. Although much of the Wessex Ridgeway in Dorset seems to have followed fairly ordinary looking paths, and often not particularly high up, this short section really did feel worthy of the name Ridgeway.

A little further on, a ridiculously overgrown path presented a further obstacle. I had to practically crawl through it.

From then on it was relatively easy walking, and most of the trials and tribulations seemed to be behind me. Although I didn't really seem to recover my enthusiasm, and my thoughts very much fixated on having a sit down and a nice lunch in Cerne Abbas.

I passed through a campsite as I neared Cerne Abbas, and the contrast between it and the one I stayed in the previous night couldn't have been more stark. This to be honest looked like a bit of a vision of hell to me. It seemed really bizarre to me that there were so many people, so crammed in here, when I'd had the whole field to myself, and that wonderful view.

A little way outside of Cerne Abbas I parted ways with the Wessex Ridgeway. For some strange reason the route of the Wessex Ridgeway doesn't go through Cerne Abbas, but takes a seemingly pointed diversion to the north to avoid it, before later on heading back south again.

I'd pretty much made up my mind at this point though that Cerne Abbas was going to be the end of my walk today. I had trudged with wet feet for 11 miles or so, I was tired and I just didn't feel in the mood to walk any more.

I followed the chalky hillside paths into Cerne Abbas, and was greeted once again along the way by a pretty display of scabious.

I'm not sure if I've ever been to Cerne Abbas before, but it's a very pretty village, and would be worth a visit even without its famous giant.

I hadn't even checked on my phone for the village's pub situation, but just followed my nose into what felt like the centre, and plonked myself down outside the first pub I cam to - The Royal Oak. With perfect timing I arrived at almost exactly midday. I changed out of my wet socks, ordered a pint and a Sunday roast, and felt much better.

Of course, I couldn't come to Cerne Abbas without seeing the famous giant, so after lunch I hobbled through the village to the designated viewing point and took a few photos. 

Had I been determined I could have walked the rest of the way to Maiden Newton, but I really wasn't in the mood. The trains from Maiden Newton are quite infrequent, and it's a long journey back to London from there. Had I walked the rest of the way, I probably wouldn't have made it in time for the next train, and the one after that wouldn't get to London until 8pm. I really didn't like the sound of that.

So I got a taxi the rest of the way to Maiden Newton instead.

In summary, there were definitely ups and downs (of course literally as well as metaphorically). Most of the first day's walking was pleasant, and I think I set a new personal best for distance covered in one day there. The campsite was great, probably the real highlight of this whole section, and I loved being able to sit there and watch the sunset. Alas though I still couldn't sleep well, and as always the tiredness plus the seemingly unavoidable wet feet meant the walk on the second day was much more a feat of endurance than anything I could describe as particularly enjoyable. I did enjoy my brief visit to Cerne Abbas though!