Exmoor Pubs & Walks - A Nine Mile Walk from Robbers Bridge to the Culbone Stables Inn

On this walk it is worth remembering throughout Sir Isaac Newton’s most famous and comforting discovery – “What goes up, must come down.” We parked at the spacious and very empty Robber’s Bridge car park, on your right as you approach the bridge after leaving the Porlock-Lynton road. Trippers have just enough room to abandon their vehicles adjacent to the bridge itself. Thus they save themselves the short walk to admire the view up Weir Water as it tumbles over a stone step and through the arch.
We crossed the bridge and walked on down the lane to Oareford. Just before you reach the Old School House, there is a footbridge on the right which leads to the bridleway to North Common. A steep and narrow grassy path climbed ever upwards with sentries of foxgloves standing stiff amongst the heather, now just beginning to flower into purple and blue. Just as we were beginning to doubt Sir Isaac’s word, we reached the stile to the Common. It was a sunny morning after a day’s rain, and the view behind us up to Great Tom’s Hill and beyond was slashed by light and shade.
The climb over the Common was an easy one and a track led us on past stubby thorn trees and then through open heath to the A39. We turned left for a few yards before crossing the main road and following the bridle path signed towards Broomstreet Farm. Over the crest we found the sea stretched blue below us with the Welsh coast clearly visible beyond.

We soon reached the junction with the South West Coastal Path and turned right along the grassy path which led past Broomstreet Farm, one of the several candidates for the house where the poem “Kubla Khan” came to Coleridge in a reverie, before the fatal interruption by the “Man from Porlock” reduced a narcotic epic to a mere fragment. The other places which bid for the honour, Silcombe and Ash farms, are a little further east. For much of its length here, the coastal path runs between high grassy banks, and so the sea is only visible at gaps and gateways. The hedgerows, however, often meet to create long, shadowy tunnels of green which have a charm all of their own. Silcombe Farm is an unusual building with walls of hanging tiles, holding on by their fingertips when the winter gales rush up Silcombe Combe from the sea.


Beyond the farm we took the path which led down into the Withy Combe woods towards Culbone Church. The way through the ancient woodland eventually passes the church, and we turned off the path and into the churchyard with its prominent cross, which the unsympathetic elements have aged quickly since it was erected in the 1960’s. The church, which may or may not be the smallest in England, is certainly a peaceful sanctuary with Anglo-Saxon origins, a stream rushing noisily by, and a splendid box pew for the Lovelace family.

We hiked on downhill through Yearnor Wood until the ancient woodland began to change into a derelict arboretum with varied species of trees, laurels, and even a huge, bushy fuchsia. Benches and bits of litter announced that we were approaching Porlock Weir, and a ruined folly and some eccentric tunnels indicated that there must have been some great house in the area. There had been - Ashley Combe House, an Italianate mansion which had been built by a Lovelace who had married a sister to Lord Byron. The tunnels, supposedly, were to conceal the trades people as they trekked up to the house from Porlock, thus preventing them from spoiling the view from the house. Ah well, time wreaks its own revenges and the crumbling edifice was torn down just after the War.
We emerged from the woods at the Worthy Tollhouse, an unusual thatched cottage with an arched gateway which leads to the Worthy Toll Road. We passed through the gate, declined to pay the £1.50 toll presumably intended for motors and, with no sign of a troll to extract some form of due, started to climb the metalled road which would take us to the Culbone Stables Inn.
It is well worth keeping the image of Sir Isaac Newton before you as you climb the road with its stream on your left roaring towards Porlock Bay. From the tollhouse to the pub is an 1,250 feet climb, and you will have deserved your pint by the time you get there. At Yearnor Mill Bridge, where a path dives off the road down towards Porlock Weir, we looked back to see a sign which yelled at our sweating selves, “No Horses! No Walkers!”, referring presumably to the toll road. It received that two-fingered gesture popular with free Englishmen ever since the archers at Agincourt indicated to the French knights that they had all their digits ready for action. There had been no companion sign at the foot of the road. Perhaps, one is allowed to walk up, but not down. It would be a suitably silly restriction on a road which sees a vehicle only once in a blue moon.
We plugged on up what was now a public road. The lane to Pitt Farm does not permit access to a bridleway which would have taken us to the summit, but the views on the road are to die for all the same.

As we neared our goal, a path to the right would have taken us to the Culbone Stone, an early Christian monument. Sadly, we had beer, not religion, on our minds and we strode on towards the main road on the ridge. The pub was directly opposite on the other side of the road.

The Culbone Stables Inn is a project of the David family from Porlock. Famous for its butcher’s shop with its home-killed meat, the David clan has branched out into a fresh fish business and the pub, and recently has refurbished and reopened the Castle Hill Hotel at Dunster. The Culbone Stables Inn is very much modern, spick and span, pub chic. There are wonderful views towards Robbers Bridge from the terrace and some of the tables inside. The furnishings are new wood and leather for the numerous tables laid up for eating and, if you want to sit down and just drink, you do so in deep, leather sofas and armchairs. Beers were Exmoor, St Austell, and Taunton. Taunton was new to us and so we obviously chose that. Sadly, it was cloudy and sour. When I took our glasses back, a check was made on the barrel and it was confirmed that it was down to the lees. Without fuss and bother, two excellent glasses of Exmoor Ale were provided in exchange. The food on the blackboards is, understandably, sourced from the David butchery. Mr David Senior came in while we were there and ate his own lunch. The meat has the highest reputation and a price to match. For those who in these days of government warnings on hypertension and high cholesterol see eating as a political act, there is a well-hung 32 ounce T-bone steak at £16. A signature moment came when a harassed motorist invaded the bar, claiming that someone leaving the car park had driven into him but hadn’t stopped. Could the bar staff identify him if he was local? “We don’t have any locals,” was the reply.
The path back to Robbers Bridge runs round the back of the pub. After the Himalayan climb up the Worthy Toll Road, it was a joy to amble back down the hillside and catch a final omigod view. In the car park I tidied up a fast food box complete with its white plastic fork and several sodden tissues. At least some people had bothered to park and walk to the bridge. Or perhaps they had parked for some other mysterious purpose?