Day 14: Crediton to Tiverton

Distance: 16.9
B&B-hill: 400 feet

Yesterday's winds gave way to a warmer, dry, and partly sunny day today. It was very nice not to need the pack covers and rain gear. I wore my light nylon pants to avoid the need to strip down at any bus shelters. Though if I was going to change, I can't think of a nicer bus shelter than this one we hit early on at the village of Shobrooke.


And look, they are selling souvenirs of Dawn's fall into the pony poo!


We were told that we'd know when we're out of Cornwall and into Devon because the mud changes from brown to orange. These English love their mud. And they're right, the mud here is a new lovely reddish orange.


The colour gets into everything. Here are some sheep that are camouflaged to the background soil.


We saw plenty of normal looking white sheep, too. The first thing you notice with the new colour is the buildings, especially the old buildings. Here Crediton's Church of the Holy Cross and Mother of Him who Hung Thereon. It's a crazy name, but a really nice looking orangey church.


The structure itself is almost 1000 years old (building started in the 1130s) but Crediton has been an important place, church wise, since about 680, when St Boniface was born here. Turns out he is the biggest thing to happen in Crediton, ever, so all over town you see lots of Boniface this, and Boniface that. I'd never really heard of him, so I read a bit. Seems he was an important early Christian missionary, spreading the word to Northern Europe. He had a great career, except that he kept trying to convert the people of Frisia - yeah, that's right, the Frisians, the ancestors of Foppe and Jikke. Obviously a mistake; he should have just gone home back to Devon. One day in 754, he and 52 church dudes showed up at the town of Dokkum to try and do some converting. I guess the Frisians didn't want to be converted, because they killed them all, drank their wine, got blitzed, and then started killing each other fighting over the trunks that Boniface had, assuming the trunks were filled with gold. But guess what was in the trunks? Gold? Nope. Books. Sorry, Frisians. I guess the moral is that if you go to Friesland with a suitcase of books ... be careful.

Back to our walk. After ten or so miles of walking east along gently rolling lanes, we turned north, along the Exe river (which we still do not know how to pronounce). We were anticipating a nice easy walk along the river's edge, but if I'd have only paid more attention to the map I would have realized that first we had to climb up to the top of the highest hill for miles around. The climb was about 500 feet of lactic acid pain, but the views were terrific. Here you can see the river way way down there. You can't see any in the picture, but there were sheep grazing on the pasture in front of the farmhouse, which must have been at least a 30% grade. We just expected they'd start rolling down the hill any moment.


The long walk down the hill was harder than the climb up. At the bottom we hit the hamlet of Bickleigh, where we found a nice pub, sat down outside, and had a pot of tea and some sandwiches. From our table, this is the view of the sixteenth century bridge.


Just before Dawn and I were born, in the early 60s, a young musician, down on his luck, stayed at this same pub, looking out at this same bridge. It inspired Paul Simon to write Bridge Over Troubled Water, get back together with his crazy hair friend, and you know the rest.

From Bickleigh, we had a few miles of walking along the river to get to Tiverton, and our B&B. The Exe is wider and deeper than Whiteman's creek, but except for that we could have been walking on the path at Apps Mill, in my boyhood back yard. A beautiful river and a lovely walk. A bit farther on, we started picking up a smell that was not so nice as the river. It became more unpleasant than just not nice, and finally downright vile.


It was the sewage treatment plant, carefully positioned in the lovely valley floor just to welcome anyone on a picturesque stroll.

A mile past the sewage treatment plant, we made it to Tiverton. We'd walked 16 miles, and climbed over 3000 feet, so we were looking forward to finding our B&B and relaxing. We found the street where it was located, Exeter Hill Road, and ... a 17% uphill grade sign. Not what we wanted to see. And it really was 17% for nearly a half mile up to the farmhouse. Next time we plan a walking trip across an island, we'll pay more attention to the contour lines.

Since we were not planning on walking down and up that hill, we figured we'd eat our last remaining Jaffa Cakes and Emmons buffalo jerky for dinner. But fortunately, we were not alone at Hornhill. Another couple, Peter and Diana, arrived just after us, and offered to take us to the local pub. In their car! We we all over that. At the pub I discovered Otter Ale, which is now my favorite beer in England. The mixture of good beer, good food, and great company nourishes the soul; it is just what we needed to recharge for the next days walk.

From here, we have a two day walk to the city of Taunton. Most of the path is along an old canal tow path, which means no hills and fast progress - we're looking forward to it!

Location:Hornhill, Tiverton