Oh dear me. And it all seemed to be going so well. On a perfect Dartmoor evening. Lovely enveloping mist ensuring that all the delights emerge gently. Out from the stated place and up to Little Trowlesworthy past the cheesy rock to Great. Along to Spanish Lake to follow the old leat out and then up to Hen Tor. A nice cuppa before heading down the track to the ford at Ditsworthy. Managing to find the sheep trods to cross the Plym again and back to the cars. Down to the the Royal Oak for a rather late pint.
But no, total disaster, abject misery, there, what would we find, but three poor souls who had been left behind, left behind to wander the fishing pools desperately trying to find a friend, any friend, before they had to retreat to the pub, there all they could do to console themselves was to drink so much beer they were reduced to drinking coffee.
What can you say ...