Where No Priest Will Go

“Culbone, Oare and Stoke Pero – places where no priest will go-o” says the old Exmoor rhyme about three of the moor’s remotest churches.  That’s not totally surprising for they must be some of the most isolated in England and all involve considerable effort to reach even with today’s modern transport.  Or, perhaps, it was because of their association with witches, bandits and lepers that made them reluctant to go. In his book, Exmoor Memories, A(rthur) G(ranville) Bradley writing of his time spent on Exmoor in the 1860s, tells of how the parson of Simonsbath church wouldn’t stay on the moor during the winter, leaving his parishioners to spiritually fend for themselves.  With no roads at that time crossing the moor, one can hardly blame him.

even today, Exmoor is a wild and rugged place

I recently visited Culbone church which can still only be reached on foot.  Whichever of the two routes you take, a very steep climb is involved but the effort is well worthwhile when you finally get there.  The deep wooded combe opens up just enough to allow room for the church and two houses.  It is a very tranquil spot and, resting there in an attempt to recover breath, it did feel very spiritual too – perhaps because records show that it has been a place of worship and meditation for over sixteen hundred years.  The present church was mentioned in the Domesday Book so is just a mere one thousand years old!

Culbone has been a place of worship & silent contemplation for over sixteen hundred years
the private box pews where only the gentry would sit

Claiming to be the smallest parish church in England – it is only 35 foot x 11 foot in size – it can seat about thirty on its hard, wooden pews.  It also has a small box pew where the family of Ashley Combe House once sat.  Like many of the buildings that must have once populated the area, Ashley Combe House has long since disappeared.  Entering the church through its thirteenth-century porch two things are immediately noticeable: first that it is still lit by gas and secondly, the ancient, stone font, now also well over a thousand years old.

the church is still let by gaslamp
the one thousand year old font – how many baptisms has it seen?

Despite the hardship in reaching the church and its very few houses, it is still very much a living church with services held there fortnightly.  However, the priest, perhaps mindful of the old rhyme or the lepers that once roamed the woods lives elsewhere.  To visit Culbone it is possible to park the car by the sea at Porlock Weir and climb 400 feet to reach it or, as we did, park at the top and walk down.  If that sounds the easy option, remember there is still the steep climb back!  Either way you’ll be rewarded with breathtaking sea views and the chance to glimpse a way of life (and worship) now almost totally past.

the church is hidden in a deep, wooded combe
Porlock Weir

Oare church, these days is by far the easiest of the three churches to reach for it is just a short drive down a narrow lane from the A38 Porlock-Lynmouth coastal road.  Famed for its association with Lorna Doone, the novel by R D Blackmore, Lorna was shot at the altar on her wedding day by the wicked outlaw Carver Doone.  A pretty, riverside walk through the stronghold of the Doones, the Doone Valley, is possible from nearby Malmsmead where there is camping as well as an art gallery and coffee shop named the Buttery.  Overlooking the picturesque bridge and ford, it also serves great food and is well worth a visit.

Oare church is easily approached by a narrow lane
the bridge and ford at Malmsmead

Compared with the church at Culbone, Oare is a relative newcomer having been built in the 1400s and then partially rebuilt four hundred years later.  Inside, it is light and airy with memorials to Blackmore and also to the Snow family who feature in the novel.  Blackmore tended to use local family names and traditions in his writing and mixing fact with fiction.  Ridd is another local name; its variation Red is recorded on many of the gravestones at Culbone. For those not too familiar with the tale of Lorna Doone, or to see photos of the Doone Valley take a look at my earlier blogs, The Story of Lorna Doone – just a myth? and A Walk in the Doone Valley.

the interior of Oare church is very light and airy
the window through which Carver Doone shot Lorna on her wedding day as she stood at the altar

There are wonderful, albeit rather long, walks to Stoke Pero church from Horner Woods (car park at Webber’s Post or in the village of Horner), taking in the ‘four corners of Horner’ and distant views of Dunkery Beacon, the highest point of Exmoor. It is well worth the effort for apart from the views there is a good chance, providing you walk quietly, of spotting red deer, the largest of our wild deer and for which Exmoor is now one of its few remaining strongholds.  There is plentiful wildlife to be seen along the river too – Dippers and Kingfishers and with Buzzards soaring overhead.  You may even be lucky enough to see Red Kites or even White-tailed Sea Eagles which are becoming ever-more frequent visitors to the area.

Dunkery Beacon from Webber’s Post
wild red deer hind with its calf half-hidden in the deep woodland

It is possible to drive to Stoke Pero although the lanes are long, winding and narrow.  The road even passes through a working farmyard which confuses many, especially visitors from overseas who find our narrow lanes scary enough at the best of times! If you choose to reach the church this way you will fully understand why a priest might not want to be bothered to travel there. Below is an Ordnance Survey map showing the three churches; I would strongly advise to carry a paper, rather than digital, version of the map for phone signals can be a bit erratic in such remote countryside.

the three churches – a good map and equally good boots are essential if travelling by foot

We’ve had lepers and bandits with our previous two churches which only leaves witches as a possible reason (other than the journey) why Stoke Pero might have been clergy-less.  Look closely at the old oak door and scratched into its surface are a series of lines: witches marks.  ‘Apotropaic’ marks to give them their correct name are symbols carved into buildings to ward off witches and protect people from evil spirits.  They are usually found wherever there is a point of entry such as doors, windows or chimneys and usually date back many centuries when belief of the supernatural was commonplace.  It is not known when the marks at Stoke Pero were made or what they mean but they may well have literally put the fear of God into any visiting priest.

witches marks – apotropaic marks – on the church door at Stoke Pero

The church at Stoke Pero lays claim to being the highest on Exmoor for it stands, isolated at over 1000 feet above sea level.  Although much of the building is only a couple of hundred years old, the church tower dates from the 1200s, as does a list of the rectors which rather belies the story of lack of clergy.  Like Culbone, an earlier church here is mentioned in the Domesday Book and, also like Culbone, services are held here lit by candles or gas lamps.

old sign staking its claim as highest church!
Stoke Pero church sits high on a bank

I blogged about Stoke Pero over fifteen years ago (link here) and mentioned how simple its interior is with its whitewashed walls, the only colour being the splash of red from the altar cloth.  Revisiting recently, unsurprisingly the place hasn’t changed, and the barrel roof is as spectacular as ever.  However, this time I noticed other things too such as the delicate ferns growing inside the window of the ancient bell tower and the contrast between the rough-hewn stone windows and the smooth white plasterwork.

the magnificent barrel roof of Stoke Pero church
ferns grow in the cool shade found inside the ancient bell tower

If you have the opportunity to visit Exmoor, now protected by its National Park status, there is much to see – but only if your pleasure comes from the joy of being in wild, open places for it remains remarkably uncommercialised.  It has much to offer apart from the moorland (spectacular at this time of years smothered in purple heather) for it has the sea, rugged cliffs, fast-running boulder-strewn rivers and the unspoilt little towns of Porlock, Lynton and Lynmouth. It is a walker and nature lovers paradise.

the heather moorland tumbles away to the sea
Lynmouth

Regular readers of my blog will know of my love of Exmoor which I discovered now nearly sixty years ago.  They may even recall how through a chance meeting it changed the direction of my life, giving me an outdoor career as well as many Exmoor friends.  More remarkably, I have found numerous family references to the moor, unknown at the time, for A G Bradley was my grandmother’s cousin and other family members lived and are buried at Luccombe, a village not too far from Stoke Pero.  An uncle was involved with the rebuilding of Lynmouth after the devastating floods and loss of life in 1952 and a few years prior to that my parents honeymooned on the moor.  A small world indeed and one in a small way I have been privileged to be part of.

my first night spent on Exmoor – many, many years ago!
old postcard of the cottage in Luccombe where my ancestors lived in the early 1900s

“If Only… If Only…”

What is it in human nature that always makes us long for the exact opposite of what we are getting at that moment?  I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’m constantly wishing for something different for I’m pretty easy-going – well I think so, anyway 😊   But over the last few days I’ve heard myself saying “if only…” a lot more often than is usual. 

Until Brexit changed our outlook somewhat, as a nation we were brought up to believe that talking politics (or religion) was taboo, it wasn’t something to discuss even amongst close friends or family. It was always said that the reason for not doing so was to avoid offending anyone.  I think that may just have been an assumption and that the real reason for not talking about these things is because we Brits are always taking about the weather.  There’s no time left to discuss anything else. One of the certainties in an uncertain world is that in the UK the weather will never be the same two days running.  Now even that certainty has been take away from us for we have been suffering from high temperatures and prolonged drought.

Parched earth
Wildfire – a little too close to home for comfort. (We’re ok!)

I have extended family scattered all over the world and as a child lived in a house where foreign accents and languages were frequently heard for not all of our visitors spoke English.  One of the phrases that was a constant, for we lived in the countryside, was how green our landscape was.  Those that came from more tropical climes couldn’t believe how cool our summers were either.  This year they would feel more at home for our fields and woods are tinder dry and our grass parched and brown.  It is for this reason that I have been saying “if only…”   As a relief from the arid conditions, I have decided to write about cooler, wetter times not because I really want it to snow in August but so that we had some images to look at to remind us that, unlike many other places, our drought and oppressive heat is unlikely to last very long in comparison.  If it helps to make me feel slightly less grumpy about our present state, then so much the better.

View from our garden in a normal year – nice and green!

“If only it was colder” – to wake up at the break of day to cloudless skies and sunshine is, to put it frankly, un-British.  There’s nothing worse than to lie in bed overheating only to find no relief when you get up.  Give me a crisp, frosty morning any day, when the sky is blue, the air cold and our little river shimmering, not in a heat-haze but a cold-haze.  Of course, in reality, our winters aren’t like that very often.  Far too often the days are grey and gloomy but I’m highly unlikely to say “if only…” about one of those.

A rare day when it’s bitterly cold but sunny – just how I like it!

“If only it would snow” – I love the white stuff even though it does make life more difficult.  Whether the drifts are across the road or not, we have to be out in it to attend to our horses for they need feeding and watering whatever the weather.  Snow in southern England is a very hit or miss affair and we have had none for the last few years.  Only once in the past twenty years of living in the secret valley have I had snow deep enough to ski on and it is a great source of pride and pleasure that I managed it even once.  There is nothing like clipping on a pair of skis and swishing through a landscape that has been silenced by snow.  The photos below were taken some years ago – just looking at them makes me feel pleasantly cool.

Wintry view from our house
The road leading out of the valley

“If only it would rain” – these words are almost never spoken in this island nation for rain is constantly being blown inland on a south-westerly from off the Atlantic Ocean.  However, at the moment, it is rain we need more than anything.  Our garden plants are shrivelling, the winter corn cannot be sown for the ground is rock hard.  And as inferred to earlier, we miss our green grass, our wildflowers and the verdancy of our woodlands.  The last couple of days the forecasters have been telling us that rain is on its way and that it will be torrential when it arrives.  So far, we have had three light showers lasting just a couple of minutes.  What we need is two weeks or more of gentle, refreshing rain.  Whether we get it we shall have to wait and see.  Our valley looks rather splendid when it is flood but I don’t really think we should wish for that. 

Our little house sits high above the river so flooding isn’t a problem
It’s sometimes hard to imagine that the little river can flood so much

There is one more “if only…” that I know I shall be saying before long and that is “if only it would go back to that lovely summer weather we were having.”  Some people are just never satisfied!

A glorious sunrise over the valley