And there, just gently sighing, she was, resting at the Warren House Inn with that wonderful aroma, so reminiscent of ... something. Sold for £114,000 six years ago, 'Royal Chester'. Now resting for the night.
Out from the very last car park to Shapley Common with the fantastic hut circle. By the amazing leaning walls to gaze on a brand new tor which we leave for another day. And round by the glider poles for King's Barrow and Tor. Tucked in the lee from quite a cooling breeze for a cuppa. Back up, over and across to the main track down to the ever interesting Grimspound. The sun was setting as we made our way up to Hookney and weavily back to the cars. To Royal Chester but the Inn still closes at 10 even in July. So on, through a most challenging sheep slalom, to the ever reliable Prince of Wales.
Well, finally, after all these years, years and years, and years and years, finally we seem to have got it sorted out. It took some time, years and years, but there you are, at last we have sorted it out and jolly fine it was too.
The bus powered its way up to Princetown to drop us a good two yards from the front door of the Fox Tor Cafe. So there we were in nice time for a nice breakfast. And some total genius had provided Henderson's Yorkshire Relish - how brilliant is that?
So onward and outward to the moor. On a lovely warm sunny summer's day. To head down to Hart with its Hercules and to Black Tor blowing house for a cuppa. Neatly up to Black then over the road to Leeden. To the little known Off Leeden Tor to the top secret track wending its way to Walkhampton Church. Steadily up the lane to the Burrator Inn by which time everyone was absolutely starving. So lunch it was.
Where else would you wish to be ...
With the rain chasing after us we arrived at Postbridge. The rain soon zoomed through and a very pleasant Dartmoory evening ensued. There is always something new on our moor with more to learn and more that remains unexplained. A track we had not trod took us out to the lane. Close inspection of the letter box provided no clues as did the lane less travelled. And then, in the distance the house appeared. The famous house where, it is said, the Rolling Stones used to practice. Over the beautiful Stannon Brook Bridge to the house. From afar it looked very grand. However, closer inspection showed it was no longer lived in and in quite a poor state of repair. We hope someone comes to look after it soon as it is in a fantastic location. Up the hill behind and finally to the summit of Stannon Tor for a cuppa. As the mists gently rolled in we made our way to the amazing Sheepfold. Could anyone really have planned to grow so many potatoes here that they needed a starch factory? Back and across to Hartland Tor and the eroded lane to the cars. The East Dart was entertaining with its Otter and Newfoundland dog.
A most interesting evening.
Nothing better than a jolly good blow through and we certainly had that.
A surprisingly vigorous Easterly as we left Pork Hill.
A warm wind and the promise of a storm.
Straight up Cox Tor to get the full benefit.
Down and over the first of many sets of thufurs and by Wedlake.
To make the steady ascent to White.
In the strong, warm wind.
With darker and darker clouds appearing over south coast.
Shelter was found for a cuppa then down to the Longstone.
Which definitely has hints of Easter Island.
Neatly bypassing the mire to the stone circle.
And on to Roos, Great and Middle Staples.
To the cars and on to the Dartmoor Inn.
Such a remote place, they have yet to have a bread delivery this week.
All jolly refreshing.
From Sourton and the usual track up towards the tors. To the right, underneath the tors and then around the end to get to the top. A fine view of the sun shimmering on the sea off Cornwall. Up the steeper bit to Branscombe's Loaf. Much cooler higher up in a stronger breeze. Down to Shelstone Tor and back through the Ice Works.
Well could you? I mean you not me. They look so docile, paying no attention. And they are equipped with the most fantastic pair of handlebars. So could you, very quietly, just creep up to it, and very, very gently, climb aboard? Not sure.
Out from the quarry car park on a day that promised rain, and the promise was fulfilled. Over to Berra Tor overlooking the gorge that was. And on, taking the high track to Burrator Falls, over the brook and through bluebell woods. To pop out at Sheepstor and gently wend our way to the summit. Shelter was found for a cuppa then on to Narra Tor and down. Picking up the WIFF stone amongst the almost disappeared Narrator farm. The arboretum provided a diversion and the Norsworthy car parks were both completely empty. How rare is that? Up the No Cycling track to Cross Gate then down through the wonderful mire which so, so many orchids adorned just a couple of weeks ago. But, the asphodels were just as nice. To the Highland Cattle and into the dog walking enclosure. Back along and up and over to the cars to a quiet and very welcoming Burrator Inn.
Nice to be out in the rain again.
Crazy, crazy, crazy people. Just what do they think they are doing? I mean it must have been at least 12m high. But there they were, and yes, they did it.
Well they did receive some encouragement, but they still did not have to do it. So nice to see lots of young people out enjoying the summer sunshine. Just chilling, chatting, sunbathing and swimming. But should you really ask them "Can you jump off there?". So of course they did, really brilliant.
Out from Minions on a perfect summer evening. To take the tracks out past the quarry with the deep (I hope) pool. And on to find the gate and ford across the Withey Brook to find the end of Twelve Men's Moor. For the perfect adventure along the ridge as the sun steadily ceased. Kilmar Tor came all too soon so down to the old tramways and across to Bearah and on to Sharp. A race up to the Cheesewring to catch the last of the rays. Swiftly on to the Cheesewring Hotel for a nice, cooling pint of their summer ale.
Always worth the trek out to Bodmin Moor.
The test for a jolly fine walk is to find a jolly fine 'fing'. And find it we did. A genuine Ruston Bucyrus Bullgrader gently resting. And not just that but a Harrison McGregor 16R Albion Mower from 1896. How fantastic is that!
After setting out from Moretonhampstead to find the Wray valley trail with the new cycle path. To find a path through the woods and fields for a cuppa at Pepperdon Tor. Then onward for a real exploration to tunnel our way through bracken and briars to pop out on the road that wends its way to Blackingstone Rock. After ascending the stairs the rock basins provided a perfect spot for an early picnic lunch. Down and back with more jungle bashing by the ruins of Lewdowns Cottages to our superb monumental machinery. More down by Wray Barton to cross the main road and pick up the cycle track on the old railway line. Lovely bridges took us back and forth to find our way to the cars.
All very nice indeed.
You really do have to be there ...
