Horse, What Horse?
Pewsey was ticked off - pubs with odd opening hours, Chinese and Indian Takeaways but what it is most famous for is its White Horse.
Pewsey White Horse is one of the lesser-known chalk hill figures of southern England, cut into the steep southern slope of Pewsey Hill above the village of Pewsey in Wiltshire. Unlike many of the older white horses, it is relatively modern — created in 1937 to commemorate the coronation of King George VI.
I can see on the map that it's on the imaginatively named Pewsey Hill - which my route to Amesbury is taking me straight up. Somehow, I fail to spot it.
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| Pewsey Hill - The horse may be the other side of the hedge |
This kind of sets the tone for the day's walking. I am on Salisbury Plain - the views are amazing. Amazingly empty. My path runs for as far as the eye can see. There's not even the frisson of being shot at or run over by a tank.
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| Where to stop on today's walk? |
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| No tanks |
I pick up the River Avon valley and a collection of very odd military towns. The barracks look more like a Prisoner of War camp. Hard to tell whether the barbed wire is to stop me getting in or to stop the soldiers getting out. Nothing of interest in Haxton, Netheravon, Figheldean or Ablington.
Thank the Lord for Durrington, with its Sainsbury's Local and Big Blue Cup of Joy.
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| The Stonehenge Inn |
A pub so bad, it almost comes back around the other side of a rating system. I'm unsure what was the most naff - I suppose I would have enjoyed a double-decker bus play area in the garden as a kid. I don't think anyone appreciated the plastic menhirs guarding the entrance door. And the miniature Stonehenge summons inevitable memories of This Is Spinal Tap — one suspects the druids may soon be demanding it be built eighteen inches higher.
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| Gotta laugh |
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| Face tells a different story |
I'll save the rest of my review for pubsgalore.com.
Nearly in Amesbury, I am saving the real Stonehenge for tomorrow. My ancient monument today is Woodhenge - although I am unsure as to what I am looking at.
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| At least this is free to enter |
Amesbury is full of history, with plenty to investigate. The pub scene is a little limited and hardly worth reporting.
The George is my digs for tonight and was good enough for General Fairfax to base his headquarters in the English Civil War. It is an excellent, value for money hotel and my most extravagant stay of the trip. The hotel bar did not look like it would provide much entertainment.
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| Bunting |
The Kings Arms was a morose, cask-less pub that may have shown the football later but I couldn't bring myself to return. Surprisingly, I saw an Australian order two pints of Fosters.
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| Sad Times at the Kings Arms |
The Bell is an unexpected Wetherspoons for a town of this size. Due to their famous pricing system, it was the only busy pub in town. A druid in a high-visibility jacket holding court and banging his staff for emphasis on his punchlines. The beer - Stonehenge Brewery - in perfect condition.
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| Ding Dong - Decent Beer - People |
Finally, The New Inn. A foodie pub, again lacking atmosphere and the only drink I had to return. A rancid half of London Pride that smelled and tasted badly of vinegar. Why barmen have to "check the barrel" when they could just sniff it, I will never know. He concurred the barrel was nearing empty but it should never have got to this point. How will we ever get Australians off Fosters?
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| New Inn, Old Beer |
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