MELBURY BUBB is a hamlet on a hillside deep in Hardy country, which the long-distance Hardy Way passes. It has a fine manor house and a Church that is well worth a visit in its own right if you are in the areaMELBURY BUBB CHURCH
Close to the Trig Point and in a strip of woodland to the right as you climb uphill along the Hardy Way, you’ll find an old lime kiln cut into a high bank. There is also a hollow way (or SUNKEN LANE) close by. If you have read Rogue Male (or seen the film), you can imagine that the steep banks are where the hero was forced to conceal himself as the evil antagonist closed in on him.
Batcombe in the heart of Dorset is a hamlet of farms, cottages, and a tiny medieval church with a fine stone screen. It is also the name of the long hill that rises steeply above it, which we see from our house. This is green Hardy country. The sinister ‘Cross in Hand’ mentioned in Tess is still there, a small battered stone pillar by the roadside now protected by a neat council fence. The fields have mostly been cleared of flints, on the surface at least. There are three trig points across the length of the hill. The advantage of Trigs is that their tendency to be on high ground often goes with nice countryside and scenery. The middle one on Batcombe is a perfect focus for an easy country walk with huge views in 3 directions, especially south towards Hardy’s Monument and the coast. Time to explore.
TRIG POINT S1513, BATCOMBE, DORSET
Looking back towards the Trig Point down the ‘tractor avenue’
This was one of the few sunny days in February and the ground was firm and dry despite the appalling rain that had flooded the lower land and swathes of the Dorset valleys, e.g. those of the Yeo, Frome and Stour. Every 20 metres or so we put up snipe that were invisible amid the stubble and stones on the ground. We were accompanied throughout by a throng of skylarks. These were annoyingly hard to photograph both on the ground (hard to see) and in the air. Here’s an effort.
Some fields were very flinty, with some surprisingly large chunks. Despite the sunshine, it was easy to image poor Tess (or any other Hardy tragic heroine) shivering out in these fields in terrible winter winds and sleet, clad only in a thin kirtlet and shawl, picking the stones bare-handed and putting them in the thracking stoop for transportation as building material to the expanding Casterbridge.