DAFFYDOWNDILLIES, it's a sandwich word don't you know.
A fair old way this week, the intrepid trusting three, plus me, lured by a flat, beautiful walk by the river Teign, warm sunshine and miles of pale golden daffodils. Oh how we were lulled into a lazy spring walk. Mid morning break sitting amongst this piece of heaven, listening to birdsong, blissfully unaware of what was to come (apart from me, of course).
Leaving the reserve, small uphill to Clifford Bridge, we met a very happy group in their battery driven chariots, some very new models and others more antiquated. They looked so happy racing down hill. I think they were shouting Freedom! or maybe Daffodils!
Over the bridge to start the climb up and up, winding our way through various woodland, entertained by many varieties of butterflies, puzzled by dozens of nest boxes situated low down on trees and posts. Dormice surveys, maybe?
Finally, the track curved round and down, can't be right, our destination was still up! But did we give up? Of course not. Saint Jon the saviour of TWW, found a cycle track wending through the woods going up and up and managing to shorten our route by a good half mile and still came out where we should have!!
Mardon Down, strange flat piece of moorland and there it was, the headless cross, not a cross at all it turns out, but the Maximajor stone. Legend tells us a huge giant terrorised this place and the locals placated him by feeding him six ewes a day, crikey!! One day inevitably he was found dead and the villages buried him in a huge pit now know as the Giants Grave. Soon after he disappeared from his grave and a large upright stone appeared. So there you have it...... The Maximajor stone.
On we trekked, no longer uphill, through ancient pathways, passing a couple of handsome goats down to water crossing. (Ford to you Charlie) Hilarious laughter as we tried to walk on water, fairly successfully I might add. All straight forward until we hit the main road. Golly, golly eight miles done already what fun, so it was decided to shortcut through Bridford wood on a more leisurely path back to the car. We all piled thankfully in and Saint Jon drove us safely back home.
What a great adventure, someone thought we should do all again when the bluebells were out!! I wonder if it was tongue in cheek!
Brenda