Now that was a real proper adventure - I am still picking the thorns out.
A perfect evening for a gentle stroll over the rolling hills of our moor as the sun gently set bringing all aglow. But no! Out from Bel Tor corner and diving down into the impenetrable bracken and briars. Was there a path - who knows, is there ever a path - who knows. But on we went prickled and bruised to finally wend way down to Luckey Tor. And, as usual on a Wednesday evening, a great big surprise. For there there were fires and folk moving about in the gloom. Lots and lots of people, people who light fires with bows and carry willow pack frames. They are The Old Way 'A unique yearlong adventure travelling as a band of hunter-gatherers across the seasons and different habitats of Devon and the Kalahari desert, with an exciting team of wisdom keepers and facilitator'. Sounds a bit like us lot; I mean it certainly was exciting, we certainly are wisdom keepers and we had our facilitator - at least I think that's what they called him later on. So on we went to find yet another path that barely is and soon won't be. Down the Dart to finally find the track back up to Dr. Blackall's and round, pondering his bumpy ride, to the cars.
I am sure the Tavistock Inn would have provided a great welcome and soothing pint or more.