An adventure journal post all about day four hiking the Mendip Way – fourteen miles from Shepton Mallet to Frome, and this long-distance trail completed. If you are new to this series, start at day zero.
This is the final chapter in my adventure journal series recounting my experience hiking the Mendip Way at the end of January 2025. If you read my day zero ramblings, you know I took on this well-known and pretty trail in Somerset because I wanted to challenge myself to go on the kind of walk I missed in 2024. As well as to send a message to myself that this year I want to have lots of little adventures (of all kinds), rather than waiting for a big one to present itself.
So far, the Mendip Way had given me both the challenge and adventure I was looking for in spades. While I was having a super fun time on my hike, truly loving having a long-weekend with nothing but walking to think about, I was also being tested by the weather and resulting conditions underfoot. The water and the mud – oh the mud – would also play a big part in this final day on trail.
The Final Day
But this was the last day, and I was, quite frankly, determined to finish what I started. Although I was already doubting whether the extra day-hike I was hoping to bolt onto the end of the Mendip Way was going to be sensible, I was looking forward to achieving what I set out to do. And it’s not any kind of spoiler to say that by mid-afternoon I would be drinking coffee and eating cake in a café in the centre of Frome.
The 14-miles of day four would see me hike from Shepton Mallet to Frome in a little under six hours. It would be a rural walk with fields and woodland and tiny villages. There would be big views, some very welcome warm-ish sunshine, paths completely enveloped by rivers (yes, plural), the slipperiest mud of the whole hike, and an almighty hailstorm.
Here’s how the final leg of the journey unfolded…
Download file for GPSSee the full route in OS Maps.
Read the official Mendip Way leaflet.
Mendip Way Day 4: Shepton Mallet to Frome
I could have done with sleeping better in my huge bed in my huge room at The Thatched Cottage Inn in Shepton Mallet. There were no issues to report with my room or my bed or anything else related to the Inn itself – just my body and mind apparently feeling incapable of switching off until the early hours. Typical.
That, along with my energy reserves already sapped by the conditions over the previous days, I got up on Monday morning feeling a real mix of emotions. Emotions always run high when you’re tired, don’t they? The overwhelming feeling I had was one of bittersweet excitement, an inevitable result, perhaps, of it being my last day on the Mendip Way. I was both very happy and rather sad that I only had 14 miles left to walk.
Reviews told me the included breakfast would be excellent, and it didn’t disappoint. I ordered my usual hiking choice – fried eggs on toast with tea and juice – which filled my belly and helped to top up my energy levels. With that done, and my flask of tea filled up (I always find breakfast hosts are willing to fill a flask if asked nicely), I was ready to get this thing finished.
The Weather
All through the day, the weather seemed to toy with me. The skies alternated between light rain, warm (ish…) sunshine, heavy rain, blue skies – all creating a rather dramatic backdrop for my hike. There was also an almighty hailstorm, which chased me down as I was walking across a particularly exposed section of the trail. Nice.
But you all know by now that rain had been a constant companion throughout my journey along the Mendip Way – and I don’t apologise for mentioning it again in this final adventure journal. It wasn’t just about what fell from the sky, either – all that water had a profound impact on the terrain. Incredibly muddy paths and very swollen rivers added an extra layer of challenge to my trek as I walked to Frome.
That was all information I would have gained by the end of the day, of course. All I knew at 9am as I walked out of the front door, was it was not raining at that moment. And for that, I was exceedingly grateful.
A Promising Start on Ingsdons Hill
The Mendip Way line on my map seemed to suggest I was in for a predictable yet charming routine – at least for the first two thirds of the day. There was to be a bit of rural countryside, followed by a cute little village, some more countryside, and another village with a slightly different character, and so on and so forth. This would make the miles feel like they passed by quickly, as I was never that far from the next landmark on the map.
Leaving my lodgings, I walked a mile or so to pick up the Mendip Way just outside Shepton Mallet, and headed immediately up Ingsdons Hill. This was very muddy, but the incline was manageable – thanks to those walking poles I was once again very pleased I thought to bring with me at the last second. I made sure I paused as I ascended to take in the view of the Charlton Viaduct, a sight I had missed the previous day while seeking firmer ground.
The section through Pitts Wood was just a little taster of the woodland that would be my highlight of the day, bringing me out into the village of Chelynch. It was between here and Waterlip that I was forced to take a slight detour due to flooded farmland – a case of picking my way around fields a little away from the Mendip Way proper to avoid wading in knee deep water and mud.
Cranmore Plantation
It was as I was crossing a large sloping meadow close to Cranmore Plantation that the afore mentioned hailstorm decided to explode overhead. I’ve walked in hail before (such as on this great short route on Dartmoor), and know it never lasts very long, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less! I could see a hedgerow straight ahead and decided I would peg it in the hope I could take shelter there somehow. It turned out to be a very dense and thick wooded boundary between fields, a perfect hideaway while the angry clouds made their way over.
I checked my map and realised I could use the bridleway that was completely sheltered by this narrow band of woodland for the next half-mile or so, and could therefore avoid another meadow crossing. Yes, the water had turned the path into a stream, but it was a most excellent decision as I could stay protected and still make progress.
This also meant I got to walk right by Cranmore Plantation – a Christmas tree farm with thousands of trees of different sizes, waiting to be cut and sold later in the year.
Cranmore Tower
I met back up with the Mendip Way proper as the path headed north, with the Christmas tree farm on the left and a more ancient (yet still manged) woodland on the right. This took me right past Cranmore Tower, which I’d been able to see for quite a lot of the morning.
The boxy Cranmore Tower is a 45-metre-tall Victorian folly built between 1862 and 1864 by Thomas Henry Wyatt for John Moore Paget of Cranmore Hall. You’ll know from other blogs (such as the Four Stones and the Pyramid) that I admire the folly builders – I love the idea of creating something just to look good (and show off a bit!). Anyway, this one stands at 280 metres above sea level, which – despite there being no trig pillar here – makes it the highest point on the Mendip Way. The impressive-looking tower was used as a lookout during World War II. As with lots of these places, it fell into disrepair before being restored and opened to the public (there was even a café).
Sadly, the tower is now privately owned, and visitors are no longer permitted. Reviews I’ve read since hiking the Mendip Way suggest there’s a particularly grumpy person living there now, who shouts at you if you take a photo. While I felt very unwelcome as I walked by, mainly thanks to the large piles of rubbish surrounding the tower, making it feel rather ramshackle in its appearance, I thankfully didn’t meet the owner!
Wonderful Woodland
Away from the unkempt and purposefully undesirable Cranmore Tower, the Mendip Way route goes through Great Gains Wood and Battlefield Wood. Despite felling taking place due to Ash dieback, this was a real highlight – properly good woodland walking. And importantly, some of the least slippery walking conditions of the day, a welcome relief from the muddy paths.
A small village and some more countryside walking later, Asham Wood was another woodland highlight. This large biological Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) east of Downhead and south of Leigh-on-Mendip is the largest and apparently most diverse of the ancient semi-natural woods in the Mendips. It has a stream that runs through it, making the going very wet in places, but on this occasion that just added to the charm of walking through beautiful woodland.
The internet tells me that Asham Wood has been the subject of controversy due to attempts to protect the environment from increased quarrying activity in the area. Part of this has been to add dormouse boxes to encourage nesting – the boxes are regularly monitored as part of a study of dormouse numbers in the area.
A Serene Pause at Chantry Church
A short stretch of country lane later and I was walking through the very pretty village of Chantry. In need of a sit down, and knowing I couldn’t wait much longer to drink my flask of tea, I continued towards the village church when the Mendip Way headed off the lane. I can’t be the only person who knows that where there’s a churchyard, there is also a bench…
It turned out to be the most lovely and serene spot for a lunchtime break. The Church of the Holy Trinity at Chantry dates from 1844 and is a Grade 1 listed building. Apparently, the organ is unusual in that the organist sits with their back to the organ, facing the congregation – I would have liked to go in to see it, alas the door was locked on this particular Monday lunchtime.
The churchyard houses a Commonwealth War Graves cemetery, and is very well kept with lots of benches – the perfect place for a break. I sipped tea and soaked in the peaceful surroundings, enjoying another short spell of dry weather, feeling a rather nice sense of tranquillity in this charming churchyard.
As I left the churchyard to continue on my way, I hit the jackpot in the manner of discovering a small (and unlocked) toilet building. Now that’s how to make a hiker feel welcome – thank you to those who built and maintain that little service.
The Challenge of a Swollen River
Back on the Mendip Way, I headed through Railford Bottom, Whatley Bottom and then Fordbury Bottom, more-or-less following Fordbury Water through them all. The path along this section was fabulous in places, but the high water presented some of the day’s most formidable obstacles.
The river, swollen from recent rains, had burst its banks multiple times, making it increasingly difficult to keep my feet dry. At one point, I faced the daunting task of crossing the river where no clear crossing was visible. Making various decisions to avoid knee-deep water and marshy terrain, I managed to stay mostly dry, albeit with damp feet from the soggy ground.
The same happened once I was through Bedlam, where the route along Mills Stream posed another challenge. The bridge, partially submerged, required some creative route-finding (and some running and jumping) in order to continue following the Mendip Way towards Frome.
While I was tired and certainly looking forward to getting away from the mud and slime and water I’d been experiencing so much of on this weekend hike, I admit I was also having quite a bit of fun on the final few miles along this swollen river. I mean, it was a challenge, but there was something about this that made it a proper adventure. I guess I knew I would make it to Frome whatever happened by this point, so I leant into the challenge, and rather than seeing it as an ordeal, chose to have fun with it.
Arriving in Frome
As if the Mendip Way wanted to me to finish the hike with as much mud on my boots and up my legs as possible, the final mile or so – after Vallis Farm – was a slippery, muddy mess which tested my balance and determination. Honestly, my clompy Meindl boots and walking poles were the ideal hiking companions for this route on this occasion. I don’t know what I would have done without either.
Following clear signage through Frome, I made my way to the Cheese and Grain Cafe, where the Mendip Way officially concludes. Arriving around 3pm, I took a selfie by the (surprisingly small and high up) sign on the side of the building, and somewhat desperate to warm up, I headed inside for a cup of tea and a slice of cake. I mean, how else was I supposed to celebrate completing this 50-mile long distance route, hiked in a long weekend at the end of January?! I lingered in the cafe for an hour, taking some time to just relax before heading up through Frome to my lodgings for the night.
The Corner House Hotel, was basic but comfortable – no huge bed and roll-top bath like the previous night, but the simple amenities of this pub with rooms was everything I needed. The pub itself was closed, and Google maps suggested most of Frome stays shut on a Monday evenings, so I opted for dinner at Cordero Lounge, a chain of similar places around the country. One benefit was mobile ordering – very convenient when dining alone. I had buttermilk fried chicken with chips and coleslaw, followed by a special treat of churros for dessert – the latter being free just because it was a Monday. I’ll take that!
Reflections on Mendip Way Day 4
The 14-miles from Shepton Mallet to Frome was a fitting conclusion to my Mendip Way adventure. This part of the route did everything to encapsulate the essence of hiking for me: the physical challenges, the unpredictable weather, the serene beauty of nature, and the profound sense of achievement that comes from pushing oneself just a little bit.
Looking back on the day, and the whole hike, I felt a genuine sense of accomplishment. I don’t know that pride is the right word, but I felt good about setting myself the goal of getting a long-distance hike ticked off the list right at the start of 2025 – and about succeeding.
Despite occasional moments of significant frustration and uncertainty, I had completed a challenging 50-mile four-day hike through diverse (and slippery) terrain. The satisfaction was real. While I would happily have avoided all that mud, the Mendip Way was a fantastic hike, filled with breathtaking scenery, interesting historical features, and the true beauty of nature.
As I prepared to return home, I knew the memories of this adventure would stay with me, inspiring future hikes and reminding me of the joy that hiking over multiple days brings. The Mendip Way had definitely tested my limits, but it had also reaffirmed my love for Britain’s great outdoors and the thrill of exploring it on foot.
Not Hiking the Saxon King’s Way
My original idea and intention was to do an extra day of hiking at the end of the Mendip Way – in the form of the Saxon King’s Way. This 14-mile day hike from Frome to Bath links two significant historical figures: King Eadred, who died in Frome, and his nephew King Edgar, who was crowned in Bath. The route starts at the Cheese and Grain Hall in Frome – the very spot I finished the Mendip Way – and ends at Bath Abbey.
The route looks to go through pretty countryside, little villages, and ancient history – a nice wander through Somerset. It also means hiking through the Combe Down Tunnel, which is 1672m long and plays you classical music as you walk through it.
Apart from being an interesting sounding walk, the main reason I wanted to do this one was to join my Mendip Way footsteps with those of the Cotswold Way, which I hiked in April 2023. It just felt like the right thing to do.
Another Time
Alas, the Saxon King’s Way remains on my to-hike list. Making my decision over dinner in Frome, I was pretty sure my body would allow me to do the extra day, but considering the ridiculously muddy conditions I’d already experienced, and knowing the terrain would have me on footpaths following likely-swollen rivers and across saturated fields, I decided it was not a necessary addition to my long-weekend away.
On the train home the following morning, I could see just how much flooding there was in the areas I’d have been hiking through. Even a few weeks later, when the challenge of all that water and mud is a distant memory, there is no doubt in my mind – I made the right choice. I’ve pencilled in plans to do this as a day hike a little later in the year, when things are (much) drier.
There’s a leaflet if you fancy looking into it to finish off your own Mendip Way Hike – and the route is here in OS Maps.
Some Final Thoughts
The Mendip Way delivered. It gave me everything I adore about hiking – varied terrain, stunning views, interesting landmarks, nice villages, beautiful woodland, and the thrill of exploration. The four-day distance was absolutely spot on for me. There is something so special about seeing the world slowly and under your own steam, it does wonders for body, mind and spirit – and I felt good. Staying in small, inn-style accommodation along the way was a win too – even with my incredibly muddy boots!
Speaking of mud, wow! This has got to be the muddiest, wettest hike I’ve ever done. If there were awards for battling squelchy, boot-sucking terrain, this would surely win gold. The challenges came from the relentless weather rather than the terrain itself, but hey, isn’t that part of the charm of winter hiking? At least it didn’t snow…! And while I didn’t get to fully enjoy Wells or Frome due to the weather, I’m already plotting return trips to soak it all in properly.
As for the Mendip Way itself? A solid thumbs-up recommendation from me. It might even be a good choice for someone looking to dip their toes into the world of long-distance hiking. An excellent first long-weekend adventure.
In the End
I always feel a bit sad when any adventure ends, and I must do the adult thing and return to normal life. Even little adventures like this one – a reasonably short multi-day hike done in four days – take me completely away and into another world. A world I rather like. What a way to kick off the year with some hearty hiking miles. A goal achieved, for sure.
In the end, the Mendip Way provided me with happy memories, muddy gear, and a renewed excitement for all the hiking and other adventures yet to come in 2025.
My final article in this Mendip Way adventure journal series will include a bunch of hints and tips for anyone planning their own hike along this Somerset long-distance trail. See you soon for that one.
If anything in this journal article has planted a question in your mind about hiking the Mendip Way (or hiking in general), please feel free to ask it in the comments below.
See the full route in OS Maps | Read the official Mendip Way leaflet.
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