The Exeter Road: the story of the west of England highwayHarper, Charles G. (Charles George)
History
The Exeter Road: the story of the west of England highway
Harper, Charles G. (Charles George)
England -- Description and travel; England -- Social life and customs; Exeter Road
Blackwater until recently possessed a picturesque old coaching inn, the
‘White Hart,’ which has unhappily been rebuilt. But it remains, as ever,
a village of old inns. Climbing out of its one street we come to a wild
and peculiarly unprepossessing tableland known as Hartford Bridge Flats.
To the lover of scenery this is a quite detestable piece of road, but
the old coachmen simply revelled in it, for here was the best stretch
of galloping ground in England, and they ‘sprang’ their horses over it
for all they were worth, through Hartley Row and Hook, and well on
towards Basingstoke.
The famous (or infamous let us rather call them) Hartford Bridge Flats
are fully as dreary as any of the desolate Californian mining flats of
which Bret Harte has written so eloquently. Salisbury Plain itself, save
that the Plain is more extensive, is no worse place in which to be
overtaken by bad weather. Excessively bleak and barren, the Flats are
well named, for they stretch absolutely level for four miles: a black,
open, unsheltered heath, with nothing but stunted gorse bushes for miles
on either side, and the distant horizon closed in by the solemn
battalions of sinister-looking pine-woods. The road runs, a straight and
sandy strip, through the midst of this wilderness, unfenced, its
monotony relieved only by a group of ragged firs about half-way. The
cyclist who toils along these miles against a head wind is as unlikely
to forget Hartford Bridge Flats as were the unfortunate ‘outsides’ on
the coaches when rain or storm made the passage miserable.
Hartford Bridge, at the foot of the hill below this nightmare country,
is a pretty hamlet of yellow sand and pine-woods, sand-martins and
rabbits uncountable. The place is interesting and unspoiled, because its
development was suddenly arrested when the Exeter Road became deserted
for the railway in the early ’40’s; and so it remains, in essentials, a
veritable old hamlet of the coaching days. Even more eloquent of old
times is the long, long street of
[Illustration: ROADSIDE SCENE (AFTER ROWLANDSON)]
[Sidenote: _HARTLEY ROW_]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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