A poetry jaunt to Devon

On Saturday poetry took me to Teignmouth in Devon for the launch of Rosie Jackson's new collection 'Love Leans over the Table', at which I was reading two poems, so I decided to make a day of it and visit my favourite place, which is Dartmoor.

Because of needing my energy for the reading, I decided not to do much of a walk, but instead drove right across the moor from Tavistock to Ashburton, stopping off on the way at a couple of favourite places. 

The first of these was the car park below Cox Tor, where I parked to walk along the Grimstone and Sortridge leat that skirts Barn Hill on Whitchurch Common to Windy Post Cross. 

Beckamoor Brook

The aqueduct carrying the Grimstone and Sortridge Leat over Beckamoor Brook

The Grimstone and Sortridge Leat, with Vixen Tor in the middle distance

Clapper bridge over the leat

Apparently, there was once a smithy here, and this is a wheelwright's stone, the wheel and spokes being assembled on the flat surface, with the hub fitting into the dip in the middle. The rim of the wheel, which was made of iron, would then be heated on a forge, dropped onto the wheel and quenched with cold water, which had the effect of shrinking the rim to a tight fit.

Pregnant Dartmoor hill ponies

Windy Post (or Beckamoor) Cross, dating from the 15th century and probably replacing a much earlier cross, coming into view on the horizon.

Where the leat splits, originally to provide farms near Pew Tor and Moortown with water

I could see a crow perched on gorse over on Feather Tor, and that, combined with the arrival of a party of people led by a shouty man, was enough to send me scuttling over for a bit of a sit-down.

Pew Tor from Feather Tor

Looking back at Windy Post Cross, now being used as a scratching post by a black cow

A bunch of feathers from a ring-necked pheasant, some of them blood feathers; this didn't end well

After walking back to the car park, I drove on across the moor, turning right before Dartmeet to cross the West Dart at Hexworthy and stopping at Combestone Tor, which is conveniently near the road and provides fabulous views of the high moor and what goes, somewhat inelegantly, by the name of the Double Dart Gorge. 

A quizzical Dartmoor Blackface sheep

Looking west, with Longaford Tor and Bellever Tor on the horizon

Looking east

Hameldon Beacon, Honeybag Tor, Chinkwell Tor and Bell Tor, Sharp Tor, Haytor, Saddle Tor, Rippon Tor, Buckland Beacon

Dartmeet, centre, middle distance

Wild strawberry flowers

Then on to Shaldon and a quick change from moor mode to poetry mode in the ladies loos by Smuggler's Tunnel, the lane leading to which was full of primroses, violets and wild strawberry flowers. I was gasping for a mug of tea by this point, and hurried down to the Clipper in the hope of partaking while sitting on the jetty, but it had just closed; no matter, the Alice Cross Centre, where the launch of Rosie's collection was taking place, had, in  addition to a bar, a kettle and tea bags, so that was fine. 

And the evening was fine too; it was a privilege to be part of it among so may illustrious poets, not least Rosie.

Graeme Ryan, Jean Grimsey, Sue Proffitt, me, Helene Demetriades, Rosie Jackson, Wayne Smith, Ian Royce Chamberlain, and cellist Eliza Jacobs

Dartmoor and Shaldon Revisited

I'd promised the parents a trip to Devon so off we went. The plan was to have lunch at the Warren House Inn high on the moor but as we approached it, a vintage bus passed us heading in the opposite direction and I noticed that a strange, Brutalist bus shelter of a type still seen in Russia had been built in one of the car parks. Plus, there were lots of people running around in high-vis jackets, some of whom held cameras. They were filming a period film from a few decades ago by the looks of it, and as the road by the pub was crammed with vehicles, we kept on going, ending up in the Plume of Feathers in Princetown.  

My feta and tomato filo pastry pie was more pureed tomato pie with a garnish of feta but the Old Rosie slid down nicely and my parents seemed quite happy with their fish and chips. 

On the way across the moor to its eastern edge we stopped in few car parks along the way to take in the view - here, looking over to Bellever and Laughter Tors ...

... and across to Littaford, Longaford and Higher White Tors.

I'd decided to brave the narrow lanes through Widecombe to Haytor Rocks, but we were thwarted when we met with a road closed sign at Ponsworthy. 

I headed back across the East Dart at Dartmeet and crossed the West Dart at Hexworthy. This route had the benefit of passing Combestone Tor ... 

... giving us a fantastic view of the Double Dart valley up to Dartmeet with Yar Tor on the right ...

... and down towards Holne. 

There were wild Dartmoor ponies too (here with Sharp Tor as a backdrop). If I have a daemon or totem animal, it's one of these. 

A little further down the road, our way was blocked by a herd of South Devons.  I began to think the moor didn't want us to leave ...

... a feeling which was compounded when I discovered that the road to New Bridge was closed. With a sigh I headed down lanes as snug as elbow-length gloves to Buckfastleigh, and then back up the A38 to the Newton Abbot turning and on to Teignmouth ... 

... whence we caught the ferry to Shaldon.  

Time for a pot of tea and cake in the Clipper and a reminisce about the old days ... 

  

... before heading back home. 

As we crossed the Levels, a heron flew across the front of the car - my second sighting this week. Symbolic of lots of things it seems - I'll settle for prosperity, longevity, curiosity, determination, wisdom and working with Nature rather than struggling against it. 

Dr Blackall's Drive and the Double Dart Gorge

My plan was to amble up Sheepstor and enjoy far-reaching autumnal views over south-west Dartmoor and Plymouth Sound, but the fog which descended upon us at Princetown showed no signs of dissipating even as we descended the B3212 towards Burrator Reservoir.  We couldn't even see the tor let alone climb it.  So it was back to Dartmeet for a rethink.  

Then I remembered Dr Blackall's Drive, a former carriageway high above the Double Dart Gorge.  At that moment it was clear up at Sharp Tor and even if the mist encroached, the track was sufficiently well delineated - and far enough from the edge of the gorge - for us to walk back to the car park at Bel Tor Corner in safety.  

It wasn't long before we had our first glimpse of the white waters of the newly united East and West Darts powering through their rocky channel.  

And we could hear it too. As the story of Jan Coo tells us, the Cry of Dart is loud in these parts.  

Additionally, there was the lowing of cattle being herded from one field to another ... 

... and the occasional chomping of a hill pony ... 

... but the evocative cronks of half a dozen ravens patrolling the valley were my favourite sound.  

Here's a closer look. 

Looking back to Bel Tor and Sharp Tor. 

After the greyness of coastal Cornwall the day before and the thick fog just the other side of the moor, the brilliance of the autumnal colours in October sunshine seemed heightened. 

Hawthorn and rowan berries, bracken and gorse.  

Looking ahead to Buckland Beacon with the tower of St Peter's Church, Buckland-in-the-Moor in the middle distance.

On the return leg to the car it became obvious that the mist on Down Ridge was beginning to creep a little closer.  

We arrived back just as the clouds came down.  

By the time we reached Widecombe, it was getting quite thick.

There was nothing for it but to adjourn to the pub, eh, Ted?