Base Camp Journal - Minehead

Minehead Caravan and Motorhome Club site is one of the smallest we have encountered on our travels, maybe just slightly larger than Meadow Farm. And it’s one of the most basic, being an acre or so of land just off the main road. From there, it’s just a two minute walk to a couple of takeaways and a Co-Op.

The pitches are on two levels, surrounded by dense trees that shielded us from the colder autumn wind. Half the pitches are too small to accommodate a caravan and awning, and we needed to position Bertha sideways in order to get everything set up, but that wasn’t a problem at all. Generally we really like the site, and Robby said he’s planning to return there during July or August.

The town itself is quite different to how I remember it from my last visit there, via a ferry that departed from Penarth pier, many years ago.

The Avenue (the high street) has a lot more charity and betting shops, and cafes, and some of the independent stores that sold interesting things have long gone. I did find a nice black dress in a place that sold vintage-style clothing. Maybe the beach is busy during the summer, but hardly anyone was on it now.

The roads around Minehead are easy to navigate, and there’s surprisingly little traffic, even along the high street. There aren’t too many people around either - I’d imagine most tourists stay at the Butlins prison camp during the summer period and occasionally visit the beach, and it seems the caravan site is a retreat for most the people temporarily residing there.

Just around the corner from the lower end of The Avenue, there’s is what I thought was a railway museum. It’s actually an old-fashioned train station, and amongst the collection of very old carriages was a working steam engine. We were luck enough to stop by just as it was being prepped for departure.

It’s the first time I’d seen a working steam engine close up. The carriages are very similar to the ones that were in service on the Valleys Line until the late-1980s, and I do remember them well.

I learned afterwards that the engine, Foxcote Manor, was constructed in 1950, and had operated from a number of stations around North Wales and the Midlands before its relocation to Somerset.

That evening Robby and I went looking for a pub relatively close to the caravan site, and we found The Britannia. It’s a quiet little pub, in the quiet little area of Alcombe, with a homely atmosphere and a small number of regulars. It’s the kind of place I like to frequent these days.

Some hours later, as we made our way back, there was a steady, cold wind in the air, as if it passed over somewhere not far outside the Arctic circle. It was the kind of wind that precedes bad weather, and an unmistakeable sign that Winter is approaching. Sure enough, it was followed by heavy showers lasting through the night.

Dunster

After visiting the shopping area on the other side of Minehead, we ventured further afield to Dunster and Watchet, two lesser-known villages along the coast.

Dunster is a strange Mediaeval village - strange, because it could easily be a museum village, with the buildings and roads mostly preserved. The roads had been resurfaced many times, obviously, but there aren’t any pavements. People live and work there, but the only things sold in the village are hand-crafted items.

We entered the village through the grounds of Dunster Castle, leaving our vehicle at its main car park. A small side street, between the castle’s outer houses, led into the village square.

I think the wool trade was central to Dunster centuries ago, as there’s a mill elsewhere on the castle grounds, and the ‘yarn market’ building, which is little more than a shelter, appears to have served as a kiosk of sorts.

We had a look in St. George’s Church. It was rather dark inside, with a solemn atmosphere and a prominent musty scent. I can’t imagine it being more vibrant on even the sunniest of days. The church is distinctively Anglican: There was a shelf of modern-ish Bible study literature, juxtaposed with a collection of pamphlets on weight loss programmes, and a few leaflets here and there for quintessential goings on in a traditional English village.

Behind all that, in the part of the church that evidently wasn’t made for ladies wearing stiletto heels, we came across a few remnants that survive from the church’s more distant past. Despite mediaeval appearances, the tombs contain the remains of people who died ~16th century. There are two chests of wood and iron, one dating from the early 13th century and the other from roughly a century later. Both are still impressively solid. The monks would store important documents and other valuables in the chests, and they’d secure them with five padlocks and distribute the keys amongst the leaders of their religious community.

Watchet

We moved onto Watchet, a harbour village just under five miles away. Maybe the harbour would have been a pleasant enough place to hang out when it’s warm and sunny, but it was depressingly bleak in the relatively cold and blustery weather. By the by, Watchet harbour directly faces Font-y-Gary caravan park, which is roughly 14 miles away. We did find a relatively nice pub, which served very good food.

Gin I’ve been drinking

On this trip, I’ve been drinking Greenall’s Blueberry Gin (I’m actually drinking it, at the time of writing) and Wildcat Bramble.

Greenall’s was the cheapest on the shelf, even more so than Gordon’s, but I liked the bottle and was curious. The blueberry flavour is definitely noticeable. The gin isn’t very refined, but it’s not too rough either. I actually do like it.

Wildcat Bramble was impressive, because of the berry taste. The flavouring is much stronger than in other gins I’ve encountered so far. It would be a waste to mix this with cheap tonic water.