"Go away for a few days, and do something that forces you to relax," said the Doctor. So I did.

Trains and beer.

Almost two years ago, I embarked on a mission of sheer dalliance, combining the two great passions of every boy and man in the kingdom and taking them to extremes. A chance encounter with some leaflets at Bristol Temple Meads introduced me to the concept of the 'Rail Ale Trail', which does precisely what it says on the sleeve - in this case, taking you on a tour of Wessex via the salient drinking points in each locale. Armed with a drinking buddy, a timetable and quite literally the most fluid of plans, an entire week was spent crawling between Bristol and Weymouth and the various real ale pubs en-route - 28 in all.

I can't remember much beyond Frome, but I know it's one of the best holiday's I've ever had. It's not just that it was a pub crawl on an enormous scale; it took us to parts of the countryside we'd never seen before, and gave us an excuse to support some of the rural micro-breweries... by macro-drinking them out of house and home.

So imagine my delight when I realised there are more of these things to be done....

Having 'planned' a week off in February, the timing was perfect. The trail would be purely medicinal, and any liquids taken on board the same, ensuring the patient remains well hydrated at all times.

I decided I'd tackle the Tarka trail between Exeter and Barnstaple. It's a notoriously scenic line, and one I haven't travelled for years. With 19 pubs on the trail, 14 stations on the line (many of them request stops), and 11 trains a day in each direction, it was unlikely my three-day jaunt would be earning me the commemorative beer glass, awarded to those with a fully stamped leaflet. But, played sensibly, I might just manage a t-shirt for Ollie...

The casual drinker may decide to begin his trail at one end of the line, and drink his way to the other. However, the "experienced beer traveller" (as I was termed by one of the wonderful landlords I met) knows that to maximise his drinking time, he must juggle the sticky thorns of opening hours and irregular train times - and here, that meant starting in the middle.

Welcome to Morchard Road station, one of the more remote outposts on the line, served by a mere ten trains per day, and then only if you wave your hand like fury at the approaching train. It's so remote you can hear your train approaching from miles away, echoing around the Yeo valley on the clickety-click unwelded track. What a great feeling of adventure it is late at night to watch lights emerging from an otherwise pitch black landscape, and to have the train stop just for you with one flash of the light from your mobile 'phone.

I got to enjoy it twice at Morchard Road, for that's where I based myself on the first night, in digs above the pub itself. A wise choice, as you can see...

After my first (and second) pint of the trail at The Devonshire Dumpling, an evening in Barnstaple beckoned, where a three hour window between arrival and last train allowed all four town pubs to be ticked off. Opposite one of the four, a reminder that we're very lucky still to have the Tarka line:

Here's the old Barnstaple Town station, on the opposite side of the River Yeo to the current Barnstaple station (formerly Barnstaple Junction) and long since lost from the railway map. A late casualty of Dr Beeching, it's a clue that Barnstaple used to be a hive of railway activity, with lines to Lynton (closed in 1935), Bideford (1965) and Ilfracombe (1970). Lengthy express trains would stop on their way to/from London, and goods traffic would come and go from the enormous yard at Barnstaple Junction. The Town station is now a school, though the old sign lives on... as, happily, does the truncated line to Exeter.

Thank goodness - quite apart from being a lifeline to the communities it serves (barely a seat is free at peak times), it's the line that takes us to the pub.

An evening's drinking in Barnstaple should have warranted something of a lie in the following morning, but there was no such luck. Miss the 0944 from Morchard Road, and that's your lot 'til 1452. In that time, I had at least two pubs earmarked for a visit.

Punch drunk on weather and scenery, I decided to re-do the trip to Barnstaple in daylight (I'm glad I did), before returning to remotest Eggesford:

It's hard to enjoy sights like this and believe that you're not on some preserved railway or other, with stations and atmospheres carefully pickled in aspic. This is a functional line, working hard for its existence, and the fact that it's beautiful is treated as a happy bonus.

You'll find precious few houses in Eggesford, but you will find an early opener in the form of The Fox & Hounds, more of a hotel than a pub, and a little more polished than I'd have liked in such a rural location. It was also one of three pubs to stare in amazement as I produced my Rail Ale Trail leaflet and asked them to stamp it. Here, far from the official stamp (which some pubs treasure in a locked cabinet, or with pride of place behind the bar), I received a cheque stamp across my booklet, together with the kind of smile that made me feel like a weirdo for asking. While we're at it, let's name and shame The Jolly Porter in Exeter and The Lamb in Barnstaple (the latter is nothing short of a dive, by the way), both of whom came up with similarly poor substitutes for the real thing. Frankly, if they're happy to accept the extra custom that something like the Rail Ale Trail must draw, the least they can do is play along with the game.

Thank goodness for The Rising Sun up the line at Umberleigh, which has everything right. From the moment I collected my leaflet, people had suggested this as a good venue for lunch, and I even overheard two men in a pub 20 miles away discussing their next visit - mine would be sooner. A barman who clearly lives and breathes the pub gave a welcome like no other, and for the second time I found myself walking away from the bar having forgotten to pay. It was just like popping round to a friend's for a beer. A top class chef friend, that is.

A hefty lunch necessitated a hefty walk. I picked a hill and decided to climb to the top, before deciding halfway-up that the view probably couldn't get any better.

(The train sits in this photo like it's some co-incidence it passed as I clicked the shutter. Actually, I waited 35 minutes to see it. Still, the panting had subsided after 25...)

It's difficult to imagine the Tarka Line as a major express route. For much of its length today there's just a single track. Looking down on Umberleigh station from the road bridge, it's almost a typical branch line scene. Look carefully though, and you'll see the second platform past which the Atlantic Coast Express ('ACE' to its many friends) once hurtled on its way to London...

Having exhausted the top end of the line, I returned to Exeter to find digs, ahead of what I suspected would be a night of passion. The southern end of the line plays host to the undoubted star of the trail, the cleverly named Beer Engine at Newton St. Cyres, which not only brews its own beer but lets you see it being done and offers you the chance to take away a few kegs! Timing my stop to coincide with dinner, I shoehorned in visits to The Mare & Foal in Yeoford and The Crediton Inn (both worthy of a more lengthy stop if you can), and arrived at The Beer Engine just after 9pm. I wasn't disappointed.

It's hard to imagine how it could be better. It feels like some undiscovered jewel in the trail, brewing away in the middle of nowhere and yet comfortably filled with happy drinkers and diners enjoying the time of their lives. The pub has a railway theme, with beautifully sign-written notices pointing the way to "First Class Beer", and even railway references in the names of their three main brews. I fell in love with Piston Bitter, and not just because it's the best pun I've seen this year.

Armed with my carrykeg, I staggered my way back to the tiny platform at Newton St. Cyres three pints and a lemon sole heavier, but light of heart. One of those moments where the atmosphere is all.

With 10 pubs down, I'd scheduled a little time for drinking in Exeter the following afternoon, but couldn't go home without the essential trip along the Dawlish sea wall. It's my favourite stretch of railway line in this country, with sea on one side of the train, and red rock on the other. I jumped on at Exeter Central to be sure of a good seat, so was understandably disappointed to find that First Great Western's window cleaner had apparently got the year off...

(Understandably, the trains take quite a battering on rough days, so I'll find it in my heart to forgive them - but let's hope they get this sorted for the tourist season.)

The briefest of stops at Teignmouth gave me time to enjoy one of my all time favourite stations, followed by a trip to Starcross to enjoy another all time favourite. Why do fish and chips taste better when the view looks like this?

I even managed to build in an 'extra' pub, The Atmospheric Railway Inn in Starcross, which is a must for anybody interested in the history of Devon's railways. No stamp, I just fancied a drink...

So to Exeter, a final two official pubs, and home. I'm still reeling from the atmosphere of three days spent in the tranquillity of Devon's prettiest villages, on trains we're very lucky to have. Long may any initiative continue that helps to bolster loadings on our rural railways (not that the Barnstaple line seemed to need it much), particularly when they draw you into the local communities too. Like anything, a Rail Ale Trail is probably best tackled with a pal or two in tow, but you'll never be short of company en route if you do decide to go it alone - the local people know what you're up to, and share in your adventure whenever they can.

The minute the leaflets in front of me stop spinning, I'll be planning the next one.