Long Trot

by Grant Nicolle

  We didn’t get off until 1430, my latest start yet by far. I cantered him quite hard very early on, but had to get off to find a way through a high thorny hedge line, and we had to spend ten minutes battling our way through the hedge (with saddlebags removed). Finally we reached the ridgeline of the South Downs, and we turned west and managed a monster trot along the puddle infested byway. We had to drop down to the busy A30 for 800 metres, before turning off and following minor roads the last few miles into Shaftesbury and Dorset. I would be staying at Gear’s Mill with Commodore Richard Bridges and his daughter Lucy. A few years ago I had been living for a few months nearby in Wiltshire, and had the privilege to ride out a few times for Mrs Bridges, a successful race horse trainer with a small yard. I was met by Lucy and she found Marv a great field. Later on, Richard took me to a great local pub, the Foresters, for a superb meal and engaging conversation.

  Day 63 (Shaftesbury to Purse Caundle - 14 miles)

  Richard had left early to go sailing on the Solent, so I moved Marv into a stable at 0800 to help dry him before we set off. We left at 1030, after having a chat with Lucy and waiting for the rain to ease. I rode Marv out the yard and up the steep slippery bridleway above Gear’s Mill to get a mobile signal. Once linked to the mobile network I was able to make contact with University friend Nick, who I had shared a student house with for two years. Nick lived in Henley on Thames, and therefore had quite a drive to join me as I headed deeper into Dorset.

  We met up with each other next to HM prison at Guy’s March, where he left his car and joined me in his slightly pesty (too tight) rowing lycra. Again, it was good to catch up on the hoof, and we made our way across country to have lunch at the Crown in Marnhull. The weather wasn’t with us today, and we had to sit out in the drizzle as Marv ignored the rain and munched on. We started to see signs of the exceptionally wet weather Britain had been experiencing this year. Later, at one point we found the road was totally flooded ahead. I was fine sitting high on Marv, but Nick had his trainers and Ronhill leggings to think of. By using his initiative, he managed to hitch a lift (not sure how, in his outfit) with a lady driver for 100 metres through the flooded section just to keep his gear dry.

  (L) Nick meets Marv, (C) riding the flooded lane, (R) last mile into Purse Caundle We passed through Stalbridge and finally onto a hill overlooking Purse Caundle. It had just rained quite hard, but we needed to take a photo regardless, to capture the day. Finally we got the required photo and slipped our way down a steep path and into the village. We were met at Home Farm by Judy, Anthony and Amelia. These were Fi’s relations and they were hugely welcoming to me and Marv. Marv was loosed out into a field to share with a herd of dairy cows and their own horse Geoffrey (who had his own electric fence enclosure in the cow’s field), whilst we conversed in the kitchen by the Aga to warm up. Antony very kindly offered to drive Nick back to his car, and I said farewell to one of the many close friends who I had the privilege to meet up with, and share a memorable part of the trip with this week. Back at Home Farm I was treated to a huge beef casserole and glad to be inside as the weather was not looking favourable.

  Day 64 (Purse Caundle - day off)

  I was up at 0800 for breakfast with the family. I then joined them in moving the dairy herd from one field to another some distance away. Soon after, the first of today’s visitors was Caroline (a University friend, whom I mentioned earlier, and had inspired me to be a better rider). She was en route with her husband Charlie and young son William to go on holiday to Cornwall, and had detoured to come and meet Marv. She couldn’t stay long, but it meant a great deal that she went out of her way to catch up with us. As Caroline arrived, Amelia returned from hacking out on Geoffrey. He was then released into the field with Marv, whereby they both behaved like big kids, chasing each other round the field, breaking the electric fence, but having a huge amount of fun in the process. This was meant to be Marv’s rest day, but clearly he had far too much energy still. I was just glad that that they got on, and Marv was able to spend some down time with another horse. It must be difficult for a herd animal to spend the night somewhere different each day, often with no other horses for company. During the whole trip, if we ever met horses in fields as we passed I would always take the time to stop and let Marv meet the horses. It would usually involve some mutual nose sniffing and then a squeal from the other horse, with Marv then snorting and abruptly turning to continue on our way. Back in the field, Marv and Geoffrey did calm down and then spent the next hour mutually grooming each other.

  Marv and Geoffrey necking

  We had a pause for a ploughman’s lunch, before friends of my parents

  from the RAF days, Linda and Roger, came to feed Marv some more treats. They were closely followed by Susan and Patrick who had heard about the trip and had driven up from Bridport to meet Marv too. I spent the later part of the afternoon trying to organise fields for the last two weeks of the trip (through Devon and Cornwall) which I had purposely left unplanned to add some adventure to the finish. My initial planning had me stopping in villages which had a PH (public house) on the map. My thought process was at least if there was a pub I could get a meal on arrival. Taking that one step further, I used the internet to find out the pub’s names and numbers, and then called them all up, explaining my trip and asking nicely for potential fields for Marv. It was instantly successful, with many pubs sorting the field request on the spot, with others calling me back later after speaking to the locals.

  Week 10 (89 miles)

  Week 10 (total 89 miles)

  Day 65 (Purse Caundle - extra rest day) Today was a bonus rest day, awarded to myself as I had deliberately left the last few weeks of the trip requiring less average miles in case I needed any extra time towards the end. After another superb cooked breakfast, I spent the best part of the morning catching up on diary writing, and then in the afternoon, time for a power nap and a nip down to the local Post Office to post the diary notes, used maps and photos back to Fi. I owe a big thanks to Home Farm for looking after me for the long weekend, and putting up with a stream of unexpected visitors on the Sunday.

  Marv & Geoffrey’s paddock

  Day 66 (Purse Caundle to Somerton - 17 miles) Tuesday started early, and after a quicker than normal breakfast, Amelia and I headed out to tack up the horses. Amelia was effectively the only person to join me on horseback for the trip. Geoffrey and Marv were now best friends having had a few days in the same field. The concern was how would Marv react when Geoffrey headed back to Home Farm? Amelia and I set off on some great tracks and soon we were at Milborne Port, where I stopped to buy some horse snacks and Amelia then turned back. Marv did his usual whinnying for a short while, but probably realised that we must just carry on.

  (L) Amelia riding Geoffrey with us to Milborne Port, (R) posing at an impressive entrance We stopped for a photo opportunity outside the manor house in the picturesque village of Sanford Orcas. It was then on through Marston Magna (another great name) before passing to the north of the Royal Naval Air Station (RNAS) at Yeovilton. We were treated to a free air show as numerous planes and helicopters were busy in the sky around us. Marv was not the least bit fussed by the noise of the aircraft. What did upset Marv was the bright orange airfield windsock which was flapping high above the perimeter fence next to us. Marv did his usual side stepping routine with his head held high, eyeballs popping, and much snorting. After we had escaped the wind sock ‘monster’ the heavens opened up and as Marv had no waterproofs we took respite in a bus shelter until the worst of the rain had fallen.

  A little later on we reached Lyles Cary where we were met by two members of the ILPH team from their Somerton farm. They escorted us the last few miles to Glenda Spooner Farm. It so happened that the ILPH were having an equine documentary being filmed there (called ‘Horse Patrol’), and they wanted to include some footage of our adventure. They filmed us from the back of a vehicle all the way into the farm, and so I had to put on my high-vis vest and helmet (which I had ca
rried the whole way but rarely used). Once we reached the large ILPH facility, and the filming had been completed, Marv was let loose in the field and took the opportunity to do a series of rolls. The staff were surprised at how agile he was for a heavy horse breed. As Fi aptly acknowledged in the diary; “it is a pleasure to watch him as he nonchalantly sniffs around for the right spot before the knees buckle and he is down, grunting and groaning as he throws himself enthusiastically from side to side”. Graham, an RAF friend of my parents, arrived and we headed down to the local pub to catch up for an hour, before heading back to the farm and sitting down for supper with the centre manager Janet and Andy.

  Day 67 (Somerton to Creech St Michael - 18 miles)

  First thing in the morning we led Marv onto the centre’s weighbridge, and he tipped the scales at 628kg, which was quite trim apparently for a heavy horse. After the weigh in we departed the farm and headed off up the busy B3151 towards Somerton. We stopped at the local supermarket for our daily supplies and then Marv was fed some liquorice allsorts by a wellwisher. His tastes have certainly expanded whilst on the trip. Next destination was Langport, to cross the local river Yeo. The weather was turning wet again and I had to resort to using mint imperials as incentives for Marv to keep him moving at a healthy pace. After passing through Stoke St Gregory, North Curry and by the side of West Sedge Moor we reached Creech St Michael, our destination for today. I located Wendy at the local pub, who had a field organised for Marv. The field was fine, but it was the other side of the river to the local abattoir, which made me feel slightly uncomfortable. My cousin Collette and her husband Mark arrived soon after, and we left Marv grazing to head back to their house near Taunton. I welcomed the opportunity of a shower, before heading out and having our evening meal in the pub at Creech St Michael to keep an eye on Marv.

  Verge grazing down the lanes

  Day 68 (Creech St Michael to Holcombe Rogus - 18 miles) After another hearty breakfast, I was driven back to Marv, and we carried on west passing under the M5 motorway alongside the Bridgwater and Taunton Canal, and into Taunton town centre. We didn’t usually go through urban areas, but to bypass it meant adding more miles. We skirted past the local rugby club and then back out into the open country which is where we both preferred to be. The scenery here was especially pleasant, and traversing the lanes west of Taunton (following the route of the River Tone to the north of Wellington) was enjoyable.

  (L) No verges here… (R) any grass will do The rain started after lunch, and so despite the scenery, neither of us was too keen to hang around, but wanted to get to the next night stop location. I had failed to put on my waterproof trousers, and as a consequence was suffering from sodden legs. Just to make the day more interesting, we found ourselves passing a large pig farm. Marv’s eyes were out on stalks and I instantly mounted and we did the fastest two mile trot of the trip, until Marv was sure that the fields alongside no longer had any pink occupants in them. We duly reached Holcombe Rogus slightly quicker as a result, and I managed to secure a night in a barn for Marv courtesy of Henry the local farmer. As Mark and Collete would not be picking me up until after their work, Henry offered me some of his homebrewed cider. It was more like Scrumpy Jack than Strongbow and just as potent. I was soon feeling the effects of the drink when I was found by Collete in the farmer’s kitchen stuck in a comfy chair by the Aga. Mark and Collette very kindly drove me back to theirs for another comfy night.

  Day 69 (Holcombe Rogus to Black Dog - 18 miles)

  Once again, Mark and Collette drove me out to my start point to pick up Marv. We drove via David Pipe’s nearby horse racing yard at Pond House, as I had once had the privilege of riding out with David in Shaftesbury and was keen to see where he trained. Mark, Collete and their dog were keen to walk with me for an hour, and it made a pleasant change to doing the miles with only Marv for company. It transpired that they liked the village of Holcombe Rogus so much (they had not been before) that they shortly afterwards bought a cottage there, and are still living there.

  (L) King’s College Taunton, (R) leafy tree kebab on the go

  It was a dry and windy day, but thankfully no rain. After crossing the River

  Exe near Tiverton we came across the notorious rollercoaster hills which are well known to End to End cyclists who think that they are very close to the finish, only to be taken by surprise when they find the frequent steep gradients in the south west. We passed through Pennymoor and Puddington to reach the remote hamlet of Black Dog (quite a bleak place) and a slightly sinister name. I had not managed to secure a field here in advance, but I finally managed to find a friendly local called Ivor, who allowed me the use of his field for both Marv and me. I had not slept out for some days thanks to continued hospitality, and I selected an old metal roller to pitch my bivi next to. I headed to the Black Dog pub for supper whilst Marv busied himself with unlimited grass. The landlady was superb, and on leaving gave me a unique boil in the bag cooked breakfast, which only needed heating through for the next day. That, a packed lunch and donation, easily made up for the uncomfortable night’s sleep I had due to the ground next to the roller being far from level.

  Bivi at Black Dog

  Day 70 (Black Dog to Hatherleigh - 19 miles) Saturday morning was also dry, and I was keen to get moving after eating the best cooked breakfast under canvas. Marv bumbled up to me as I finished off packing and stood still waiting to be tacked up. He knew the mission and it was great to not have to go off and round him up every day. We pit stopped at the quaint local Post Office at Morchard Bishop, where I think I got a great photo of us both outside. Armed with mints and apples for Marv we were well set for a longish hilly day. We cracked on westwards down many a winding lane with Dartmoor only a few miles to our south.

  I had a few flashbacks to my short time spent on Dartmoor during my Sandhurst days. We had spent a week criss-crossing it with bergens and carrying heavy ammunition cases. It was very unpleasant at the time, but character building stuff apparently. I was glad to be back in the area of my own accord and in a much more relaxing manner.

  We stopped for lunch on a really quiet lane, and as Marv had been behaving so well, I took off his bridle and head collar to give him a chance to really take in some grass. I was lying back on the verge daydreaming, when around the corner came a combine harvester. There was no way to get to Marv in time, and he was cantering off down the lane away from the machine. I sprang up, grabbed the head collar and ran after him. Luckily the combine driver stopped and switched the engine off, which helped, as Marv did stop after 100 metres. I got him back under control and then led him into a field as the combine came past. It could have been worse, but I saw the funny side afterwards.

  (L) W ading through the flooded lanes, (R) our shadow casts an eerie look Back on track we pushed on to Monkokehampton to seek out a shop, but no luck. We therefore continued the last few miles to Hatherleigh and the end of week ten. Just before entering the village, we came across a flooded lane. It must have been a foot deep and with the central section having tall grass it looked a bit like a paddy field. Marv was well used to crossing water now, and as we walked through Marv also managed to somehow walk and drink at the same time. It was quite a remarkable feat and made me laugh out loud. We met up with Roger and Sue who owned a farm in Hatherleigh and who had previously offered a field for Marv. Marv was to share the field with two mares and some cows. He was very happy with this and was left to commence socialising with the others whilst I was offered a room in their adjacent farmhouse. Roger and Sue were very kind to me as I was scheduled to have a rest day on Sunday, and they were adamant that it was fine to stay with them for two nights. I was mightily relieved, as I had not slept well the night before and to have a rest day off in a house rather than under the bivi was a real bonus.

  Day 71 (Hatherleigh - rest day)

  Marv and I both needed this rest day as the miles had started to increase again after the luxury of a few shorter weeks, and the hills were certainly taxing. I spent the
morning trying to sort out week eleven fields for Marv, and in the afternoon I was picked up by my cousin Brett (Collete’s brother) and his young son Luke. We utilised the local hostelry and had lunch at the George Hotel in Hatherleigh. There was quite some time to catch up on as I had not seen Brett since his wedding ten years earlier. After lunch it was back to the farmhouse to watch the Wimbledon men’s final....another bonus! I headed to bed early after supper to contemplate the last full week ahead of us.

  (L) W ith Luke in Hatherleigh, (R) grazing at the farm in Hatherleigh

  Week 11 (86 miles) Week 11 (total 86 Miles)

  Day 72 (Hatherleigh to Lifton/Launceston - 20miles) The final full week started as usual with an early (full) breakfast. I brought Marv in and put him in a stable as it was still raining, and the skies had no intention of lightening up. I tacked Marv up under cover and then headed off towards Lifton with a generous packed lunch and with all my waterproofs on. Sue kindly took my week 10 diary notes and photo memory card to the Post Office for sending back to Fi.

  Marv and I headed first into the scenic Hatherleigh town again to visit the Co-op for our daily supplies. A few hours later, we stopped at a fantastic village pub in Bratton Clovelly for a drink and to finally peel off the waterproofs. Two friendly fishermen from Birmingham generously donated money during the pit stop. Crossing the A30 we briefly stopped to let Marv meet some ponies in a nearby field. It transpired that one was a stallion pony and was going crazy with jealousy with Marv who was freely socialising with his harem. The stallion pony would chase each offending mare around the field after it had neared Marv. We quickly moved on.