Along the alley to the old railway track, some local lads were making noise, (like they do). I stopped and chatted as I know them very well, looking for frogs he said, a likely story say I, but we are conditioned to be inquisitive and had to have a look. Ahha, no frogs but a metallic thing floating on the water. Our chief recoverer of strange things, recovered it and chief litter picker took it home. By then the little bxxxxs had gone.
Down the track, the banks covered in tiny violets, like a fairy land, down the gully to the road. Taking the well worn track up to Hartor, passing the rifle range artefacts and the well defined hut circle village.
I love this tor easy to get to but with magnificent views; the conversation started, will we? won't we? will it, won't it? Looks promising!
Down past the magnificent Christmas Pudding rock with mullet hairstyle, Raz wants to climb a ladder and give him a haircut. That would be photo shot of the year I reckon.
Straight through the Hartor Brook and up to Cramber for drinkies. Again, the will it, won't it? conversation.
Along the ridge, trig point very clearly seen this evening, slight detour to bog bean city central, yes the flowers well on the way, the light just right, risks taken and superb photos also taken.
Trig point duly inspected , surrounded by the usual bog, memories of past exploits in these parts mulled over and raising a chuckle or two.
The will it?, won't it? conversation became clear now. It won't!! The grey bank of cloud saw to that. Oh well....
The track to South Hess was glutinous and uneven, but we got there, onto the newly resurfaced Ivybridge Lane and onwards to the smell of promised beer.
One small incident, there was an erie haze over the prison, which disappeared as we got closer and the lights clearer. We do live in a very mysterious, mystical place.
Beer was not mystical, just very real and enjoyable!
Brenda