Wandering Barrington’s Hidden Ways. Autumn Among the Holloways.

Embracing the change of seasons has always been a mixed bag for me. Parting with the long, bright evenings and heat of summer can feel bittersweet. Still, autumn has its own charm: cosy meals, crackling fires and the perfect excuse to curl up on the sofa, that makes the shift a little easier. For someone like me, though, who thrives on the freedom of being outside, I need a different kind of fix. That’s where Somerset’s hidden corners come in. Small escapes that feel worlds away, even when the busyness of daily life is just around the corner, are my perfect remedy.

This allure is strong when ‘Holloways’ come into play. These mysterious sunken lanes first captured my attention when reading The Wild Places by Robert Macfarlane. It made me eager to read Rogue Male, the Geoffrey Household novel from the 1930s, which features the Holloways of Dorset as a hideout for the key protagonist. I find it fascinating to read about a location before visiting. Although trepidation of disappointment can come into play, it rarely does if the words create a picture that requires a level of intrigue to be satisfied. I visited Hell Lane near (a few photos of which lie in my albums), and it is nothing short of astonishing. Today, though, was about staying local and delving into lesser-known places. Ones that could still spark the imagination whilst offering autumn colours and gentle warmth.

Our day began and ended in the picturesque village of Barrington, predominantly known for its nearby National Trust property. This charming spot has chocolate-box appeal, with its delightful church, inn and cottages nestled among beautifully tended gardens. We didn’t rush; instead, we fueled up at Barrington Bakery. Sausage rolls, cruffins, coffee, and flapjacks set the tone for a relaxed, indulgent stroll. Honestly, it’s hard not to get a bit excited when faced with such treats.

Five minutes out of the village, we turned off the road and into a completely different world. Bonning’s Lane was the perfect path to capture our attention. This was the first of many Holloways we would encounter today. The steep passage drew us upwards whilst simultaneously taking us below ground. A trick of nature’s eye, creating a curious illusion of elevation and depth. The ancient passageway grew darker as it enveloped us, revealing gnarled tree roots like a cross-sectional sculpture of underground life. It is amazing to see how these trees remain anchored despite their precarious position in the sandy soil and rock. The roots, laid bare in a rare display, created a unique and somewhat mystical landscape. The deep layers of lush ferns clung to the edges, softening the scene, which might have felt foreboding otherwise. I can only imagine how eerie it would feel at night. However, in the daylight, it pulsed with a quiet vitality, urging us onward.

Emerging from this natural tunnel into the light, we were treated to our first significant view of the day. Looking northwards, the array of trees was beginning to display an abundance of colour before the impending autumn storms and winds threatened to strip them bare. The field climbed steadily before rather abruptly dropping us down onto a lane that would take us further into the intriguing world of Holloways.

Following the downward slope of the lane, we were led to the most striking crossroads imaginable. Carved in two deep slashes of land, the entrance to the village of Shepton Beauchamp felt almost cinematic. Bonning’s Lane had set the stage for what we now marvelled at, with the appropriately named ‘Great Lane’ taking over. The parallel banks towered above, with the roots and ivy hanging like a cascading waterfall. This is a thoroughly ancestral landscape, carved by time, yet seemingly held in a way that imparts a sense of permanence. In truth, I’d have happily stayed here all day. Have you ever stumbled upon a place that feels frozen in time?

If some form of perfection was required to conclude this jaunt into the underworld, then the sight of people sitting with the sun on their faces and enjoying a drink at the Duke of York pub (dare I say the ‘Formerly Known as the Duke of York’ pub?) was a rewarding one. Resisting the temptation to stop for a libation, a mental note was made with a promise to return, and we continued on our way towards Barrington Court.

This walk soon revealed itself as a tapestry of contrasting landscapes, transitioning from the dense Holloways to open fields stretching far and wide. Rich greens gave way to a blazing autumnal palette of auburn and crimson, setting a picturesque backdrop for our stroll around Barrington Court.

It always feels fortuitous to approach a place from an angle that beckons the walker forward. The grandeur of the property revealed itself from quite some distance away, sitting alone amongst an unspoilt setting. A fenced meadow scattered with mature maple and oak framed the scene as we made our way towards the house itself. It felt like an invitation to explore. The air was thick with history, prompting a smile and a sense of admiration for the ‘wow factor’ it exuded.

As with many National Trust properties, not being a member does not prohibit the curious walker from enjoying the space and grounds. To be honest, it was too lovely a day to be forced inside, and the gardens were a sight to behold. Young families happily picked apples in the mature orchard, whilst the borders created a wave of vibrant purples and yellows in a display that felt more like spring than autumn. The Hamstone façades of Barrington Court provided a sanctuary of historical glory that felt all the more welcoming on a day like today. The care and attention to detail on show displayed unequivocal evidence of the dedication, expertise and love that have taken place here over time, making it a thoroughly unexpected delight. The tranquil lawns allowed people to stroll freely and soak up the sun, whilst the walled gardens added a layer of secrecy and mystery. Despite the presence of others, a soothing silence echoed around us, offering privacy to soak in the surroundings. The grounds were extensive and could have easily been the sole focus of our exploration. Yet linking this experience with the Holloways that led us here made it all the more special.

Every little wander brings a moment of reflection. It’s not about ticking off a box or meeting some arbitrary target. It is more about the simple magic of being somewhere new, noticing the details, and sharing it with people you care about. Writing afterwards is just a bonus; the memories, the smells, the colours, the quiet pauses along the way. That’s the real reward.

Today reminded me why these little adventures matter. From the secretive Holloways to the wide-open splendour of Barrington Court, every step felt meaningful. If you’ve never ventured off the beaten track, even close to home, you’re missing out. Sometimes the best journeys are the ones where you let the landscape do the talking.

Today was the type of day that made that sentiment speak volumes.