Ashton Court before the storm

There's a storm a-coming, they said, so we got up early and went to Ashton Court to walk the dog. First stop, visiting some old familiars now coming into leaf ... 

... but before that, whoop whoop, green-winged orchids everywhere!

I spent a bit of time with the Domesday Oak, which is looking rather more cheerful than the last time I had a proper look at it some five years ago, when it was newly fallen apart despite the best efforts of the council's specialist tree officers. It's literally not half the tree it was, though. 

And then it was into Summerhouse Plantation, which is one of our favourite places to walk, especially on days that are threatening to be stormy, and very lovely it is right now too, what with the bluebells and wild garlic and all. 

Down near the bottom of the wood, we paused to pay our respects to the Fattest Oak ... 

... before skirting the back of the mansion which looked quite busy and heading back up through the woods, a much easier prospect than when the slopes are deep in winter mud. 

Even so, we were glad to sit for a bit on a fallen log to catch our breath, while Cwtch happily ran up and down the path about eight times to our one. 

There was a bit of tree art going on the wood. I hadn't spotted the addition to this beech from last year before today, though I don't think Jeremy Corbyn would really appreciate his name being carved into the bark. Still it could have been worse, it could have been Boris Johnson.

Some lovers had embarked (ouch) on a collaborative piece with another beech, utilising some natural heart shapes in the declaration of their love ... 

... but I have to say, I like the trees' own art best. Heart balloons, Banksy? Our city's beeches got there first. 

Back out in the open, the red deer were up near the deer park fence for once, so I left Cwtch at a distance with the Northerner and went to see them. 

Hello down there!

One last visit to one last massive oak in very bronze leaf and we were home hours before the rain and wind set in, here in Bristol at least, with a pleasingly tired pup. 

Through Heaven's Gate

The Northerner wanted to go to Becky Falls. He'd seen it in his brand new Dartmoor guide book and was quite insistent.  

I, however, am the inheritor of a long-established prejudice against Becky Falls, born of the fact that you have to pay to go there. 'Plenty of other waterfalls on Dartmoor you can see for free,' my father would say whenever my sister and I asked to go. 'Anyway, it's nothing special.' And his ruling stuck, so much so that as an adult I'd never been either - I'd just caught an illicit glimpse through the trees of the rushing Beckabrook from the public footpath.  

'Ah, you have to pay to see it,' I told my companion. 'Shouldn't be in private ownership. I'm not encouraging them.'

'Says in my book that access is free these days in return for the National Park maintaining the paths,' said my companion smugly.  So off we went.

I decided to wreak a small revenge by starting our walk in Lustleigh Cleave, an area which is always included in the short and easy section of walk books but which is actually steep and arduous.  And he was well and truly lulled into a false sense of security as we passed through Heaven's Gate.


This section of the walk is well-named ...  

... even the cowshit is starred with beetles ...

... though Death is there also.  (Poor Mr Mole, his big spade-like hands forever stilled.)

The hard climb began once we'd crossed the River Bovey via the spanking new footbridge which is probably very very safe but nowhere near as exciting as the old and slippery clam bridge, now blocked off.  

After the scramble up the opposite side of the Cleave, we walked round to Becky Falls.  This is the picture in the guide book, looking down over the bottom half.

And here's the top part.  It probably looks more spectacular when the Beckabrook's higher, but it was still quite impressive, and I was glad to see it at last.  







In the cafe we shared our cream tea with a chaffinch with a bad leg. 










Back in Houndtor Wood the mayflies were making the most of their one day in the sun ... 

We crossed the roughly cobbled and ridiculously picturesque Hisley Bridge and climbed back up through the woods towards Lustleigh.

The views over to Trendlebere Down were coloured a thousand shades of green, and to Ted's great excitement, a huge red doe sprang out of the bushes in front of us and up the track.  Luckily he was on the lead because of it being lambing and nesting season, otherwise I doubt I should have seen him again. 

 Then it was back to the biscuit tin by the sea, tired but ready for another walk the following day.