In which I walk and cycle as much as I can of the now-closed Devon and Somerset Railway (D&SR)
After Wiveliscombe the D&SR ran through several smaller towns and villages. It’s hard now to imagine some of them ever having had railway stations which says much about how the way we travel has changed. The next station after Wivey was Venn Cross, a very small settlement in itself but convenient for various hamlets in the area. It’s around a 5-mile stretch and it includes some of the most complex infrastructure on the route – the Tone Viaduct, Bathealton tunnel and the Venn tunnel.
For this section I decide to use a combination of electric bike and walking. From experience this is cheaper and more convenient than travel by bus. The ebike takes the strain out of hills, although it does limit you to staying within battery range. Plus the ebike is heavy, making it next to impossible for me to negotiate stiles with it, and has sufficient value for me to be reluctant to leave it unless I’m confident it’s very securely locked. However, I hope its advantages will outweigh its disadvantages for this stretch. I say “it”. It is actually a she called Caprice. Best not to ask.
The day I pick was forecast for fresh, sunny weather. It is instead cloudy and bone-chillingly raw. I absolutely regret breaking my own rule by not taking an extra layer with me and only really warm up after the first 4 hours. I live about 10 miles from Wiveliscombe but again choose to use a longer route on back roads to avoid the fast, narrow B-road. Every time a car driver whinges about being held up by cyclists, I think they fail to realise just how much the majority of cyclists try to avoid conflict by taking these longer, much less convenient routes and are thus drastically held up themselves.
To save bike battery and to warm up I walk quite long sections of the route out to Wiveliscombe. It certainly saves battery but if this is warmer, I’m still not warm. I slightly divert my route from really long and complete avoidance of the main road to shorter, not quite avoidance. It’s too cold to be meandering around north of Chipstable although I do make a note to go back and explore the area on another day. It is idyllically pretty, with sweeping lines in the landscape, sweet streams, mossy walls and gambolling lambs. Plus some llamas. I’m no longer surprised by llamas, there seem to be a lot in the West Country.
Google Earth images show the sweep of the old track as it skirts to the south east of Wiveliscombe. The station lay to the north east of the town centre, near the remains of the bishop’s manor house and the town mills. If there is anything left of it now, it is not accessible to the public. However, a footpath runs near to the section of track just south of the railway station so I set out to find that. The good news is that there is a very picturesque bridge over what I take to be the mill stream. The bad news is that there is a stile at the entrance to the footpath and Caprice is too heavy to hoik over that and then wheel her along the footpath. I might have made the effort if I could have known what lay at the other end, but I don’t want to be met with a kissing gate or worse, so turn back to the roads.
Travelling to the west of the line, I reach Quaker’s Lane, opposite the intriguingly named Emborough. It’s just a rough track but I wander down it. It ends in farm gates with no public right of way and I cannot see any evidence of old railway line. I double check the map. In theory, I should be on the line. I cast around. I am in fact on an old bridge, any sixth sense I might have been developing concerning the old D&SR having completely deserted me. The brickwork has acquired that organic look common in Devon and Somerset but it’s a bridge nonetheless. Looking along the line towards Barnstaple that distinctive shape becomes clearer – a line of trees and a shade in the landscape and you can imagine the trains heading out there.
Nunnington is the next point at which line meets road, and here the remaining structure is much clearer, although only on the eastern side of the road. On the west I suspect more repurposing in a garden wall. The bike was the right decision. This is much easier than walking for speed, cheap and still allows that sense of slow, quiet exploration lacking when you travel by car. I seem to be regaining that ability to spot where the line was and when I’m preoccupied by taking photographs, I forget a little bit about how cold I am.
I reach Sminhay and fall a little bit in love with a bridge. It’s strong and grand. All of it remains although I’m not sure anyone passes over the top of it anymore (I start to have my suspicions about this later in my exploration though). There has been no chipping away, no repurposing, no need to take down the top to allow traffic underneath. The bridge just Is. After many photos I pass under it one last time and pick up a lane that runs north of the line.
There is meant to be a footpath from where Horridge Down Cottages used to be that in theory crosses the line. In practise, you feel as if you’ve wandered into someone’s garden and, with Caprice in tow, I’m not too inclined to dig around much. I decide to go back another day and try approaching from the southern end of the footpath. Later I am reliably informed that there is a pleasure ride that crosses this land, held each October. This sounds like a great idea, except that my main ride at the moment is an ex racehorse called Quine and I suspect she may slightly too accurately try to re-enact an express train through the landscape. Maybe though, maybe.
I arrive at Helling’s Cross. There are two back roads that cross what used to be the 400m long Bathealton tunnel. Public access won’t allow me near the eastern end. The western end emerged from under the road but once again, it is hard to imagine a steam locomotive emerging from under your feet and pershterkuffing its way across the landscape.
From the exit of Bathealton tunnel, I head rapidly downhill. I'm pleased to save battery but the speed of my descent gives me pause - what sort of a challenge was this to the engineers? I'm heading into the Tone valley, through Hurlstone wood and a nature reserve. Somewhere here was a viaduct almost 150m long and over 30m high. But I cannot see it anywhere. Lugging Caprice after me I turn onto a footpath. I park her up and cast around. I've lost track again; I don't like it.
I return to the bike. The bike is always home when you're not quite sure of your way. I know the viaduct crossed a road as well as a valley and I head for that road. And then the viaduct emerges. It too is grown organic. Embraced by ivy, lichen-clad, but still standing tall. This is a structure I will revisit in better light. For now, the bike must stand in the photo as the only way I can attempt to give some scale.
Reluctantly I turn away from the magnificence of the past. At Boucher’s cross I pick up the main road again but quickly escape, since I’m not loving it any more than I did before. I pick up a footpath down to the fabulously named Bovey Bottom. There are gates and it is muddy but there are no stiles and so I drag Caprice along. Her battery is holding out but I’m mindful of the fact that I’m down to the last 2 bars, at which point it does have a tendency to suddenly drop off a cliff, leaving me pedalling home on an underpowered, heavy push bike.
In Shute copse I come across a bridge I wasn’t quite expecting. In fact I don’t really know what I was expecting. It is marked on old OS maps as a footpath and given the propensity now to ignore foot traffic, I just wasn't anticipating a structure this large. However, back when the line was constructed, something that now looks like “just” a path may well have been an important main thoroughfare, capable of accommodating trains of packhorses, if not anything wheeled. When I return home I recheck the old map. There were active quarries to the north of the bridge and the track linked them to the main road. That explains the scale of the infrastructure but the bridge saddens me. It is as if the old line is passing into archaeological ruin in varying stages. Sminhay persists but this bridge has relented to time. Even more so than the bridge at Quaker’s Lane it is becoming organic again and I do find some comfort in the thought that nature can actually recover and reclaim very quickly.
Back to the main road. This is much easier to navigate by bike than on foot. At the point where Devon meets Somerset, I pass over the remains of Venn Cross station. There is limited public access although the tunnel apparently remains clear. The western end of the platform was in Devon, the main station buildings in Somerset. They are now private dwellings, including the appropriately named Venn Cross Engine House. You can visit this, and I resolve to do so as soon as I can.
With the remaining power in Caprice’s battery, I head back along the road towards Petton Cross, to see what I can see.
Great exploration of the hidden bits of what is left of the line. Thanks for your efforts xxx