So out we set from the furthest scratchy reaches of Walkhampton. Round to find that rather buried stone row emerging from the stream. Up and across to Leeden and down to the railway bridge. Tumbly up and into the recesses of Swell Tor for a cuppa before heading up, up and round and down. And a steady chuff back. Heavy rain was promised but only a slight shower emerged. She got lost again and the onset of a sense of humour failure could be detected. To the Walkhampton which was singing.