"Each step forward has a sacred meaning of its own" Sri Chinmoy
Brockley Coombe & Goblin Coombe - December 2025 - Somerset
Ever since October 2024 when I ran the Clarendon Marathon, my running has been very stop-start, with a few great results (1 Miler in NYC, the 46 miles of the AWW in September) and also a lot of niggles and challenges. I felt fit for a walk-jog on the trails shortly before the Christmas of 2025 and fancied something different, so I got myself into the car bright and early and arrived at the lanes near the foot of Brockley Coombe shortly before sunrise. I know the road up the Coombe well from cycling, but once or twice on flights into Bristol I had spotted some wild-looking moorland just near the airport and worked out it must be the countryside between Brockley Coombe and Goblin Coombe. Less than 30 mins from my house, it seemed like a patch worth exploring.
I parked on a lane and began to jog up the coombe, with the familiar road to my left. Soon I was in the heart of the woodland, a mix of slim deciduous trees and modern forestry. The paths were pretty decent and GPS was easy to follow on the gradual climb towards the high ground near the A38. It wasn't long before I saw the sunrise through the slender ash trees and was even moved to stop and note down a quick line or two of a poem - later I found out that Coleridge came here and wrote some lines on Brockley Coombe, so it's clearly a common experience! Obviously I'm no Coleridge, but when the inspiration lands on me out of nowhere I like to put my feelings into words.
After that brief pause I kept on climbing, taking a right-turn on a decent bridleway through the high part of the forest which led me eventually to the head of Goblin Coombe. Here the path descended through mud at first, then on to a decent trail, through more gorgeous woodland in a steep-sided valley. It was like a miniature Cheddar Gorge, without the crowds. There were even goats chomping the bark from an unfortunate tree. I found a path that led up the side of the gorge and on to an open, grassy ridge, where I had another look at the sunrise (which had dipped below the horizon as I ran down into the valley). The dew shone on the grass and I was reminded of a few winter adventures on Dartmoor.
As the day lightened, I took my time, jogging a bit then stopping to admire the views. I could glimpse the sea in the haze quite some distance away, plenty of plantation forest and plenty of old woodland too.
A short deviation from my route back down the coombe took me on to the top of Cleeve Toot, a tiny peak, pretty overgrown, and a great vantage point.
There were wooden steps leading up towards the top, but it was a slight scramble at the end to get to the highest point and stop for a selfie.
After that came a fast and soft run down to the road, a few twists and turns to cross the A370 and then I had to cover a couple of miles over the fields to come back to my starting point. A lovely corner of countryside discovered and explored.
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