August Ban Collie Day at Wistman's Wood and Cox Tor

Cwtch doesn't care for Ban Collie Days; in fact, she gets quite peevish when they roll around. As for their homonyn, Bank Holiday Days, I'm not mad keen on them either, on account of the crowds and traffic jams, but Dartmoor is the place to go if you want to get away from it all, so we did.

And as we hadn't been there for some years, and it's an easy walk on a hot day, we settled on a wander up to Wistmans Wood. 

Coming into view

Following the unpleasant incident with cow shit on the Gwent Levels the other day - and in view of the fact there were sheep in the vicinity - Cwtch stayed on the lead, but it didn't seem to prevent her from enjoying her surroundings.  

As we advanced up the valley, I watched a raven doing circuit-and-bumps along the Beardown Tors, but apart from its occasional shouts, it was quiet, the West Dart being too low to make any noise as it limped down over the boulders. 

Crow Tor - one of my favourites - was visible on the horizon, but we weren't walking that far today. 

Notices request that you walk around rather than through Wistman's Wood, so as to avoid damaging the fragile habitat - and the adders that live there. (OK, I added that second bit, though actually, when I did bump into a live adder, a long time ago now on Meldon Hill, it was fascinating rather than terrifying.) (Though I wouldn't want Cwtch anywhere near one.) (Despite having an adder pack.)

In respect of this, we perched just inside the edge of the wood, and looked up and all around at the amazing lichens and mosses that hang like washing from a line, while a robin kept a beady eye on us to make sure we didn't trespass any further. 

After a while we exited the wood and headed a little further up the valley. This is the view looking back down, with Wistman's Wood on the right and the West Dart hidden in the valley. 

gorse and ling

Then we popped back into the shade for a bit.

As we'd got up quite early to reach Dartmoor at a sensible hour, it was now time to head back to the Dartmoor Inn at Merrivale for a light lunch. On the way a large Southern Hawker, which must have been at least three inches long, gave me a good looking-over, before flying off just as I was about to take a photo.

Beardown Plantation and the West Dart

After a little refreshment we headed for Cox Tor, which we last visited nearly two years ago, just after the death of our old collie, Ted.

Looking back towards Tavistock

Roos Tor

Cox Tor

Looking towards Plymouth Sound and the River Tamar

I've started thinking of this as Grief Tor, and it does feel like attrition to climb it, though the views are comforting. And having seen collie angels last time we were here, it felt right to be accompanied this time by our own beguiling little Cwtch ...

... and a passing foal that stopped for a cuddle (much to the dog's chagrin). 

Stand-off!

The Great Ouerflowing of Waters: Undy and Caldicot Moor

 

And so to the Gwent Levels for a walkette with my friend, Liz, and Cwtch the reliable collie, whom you can trust to walk off lead and come back when called in a  relatively reliable fashion. An altogether more biddable dog than her predecessor, who, although we miss him horribly, could have his tricky moments.

Our first stop was St Mary's Church in Undy, which dates back to the 12th century. Being built on a solid shelf of rock, it was the only building in the village to survive the Great Flood (or tsunami) of 1607. I couldn't see an indication on the wall as to the height of the waters, such as you often find on old churches on the Severn flood plain, but maybe there was no one around to mark it after they'd subsided.

Here's some later, remarkably well executed lettering.

Norman font complete with hand gel

On our way to the causeway that would take us out over Caldicott Moor, we passed this scarecrow and Undy Pumping Station, where we turned to follow the path that runs between Sea Wall Reen and Collister Pill Reen, and forms part of a mediaeval sea wall - though clearly not adequate to hold back the flood in 1607. 

One of the waymarks is a black poplar, which must have been enormous before it was felled. 

Sloes

A little further on, our route took a left turn over Caldicot moor, before turning right and taking us down to the Severn, where we had a fine view of the new bridge ...

... and downstream to Clevedon on the far bank. Here signs warned of cattle but I checked and there were none, so no need to put Cwtch back on the lead.

We could hear a curlew's evocative wobbling call over the warth.

A view inland to Mynydd Machen, Mynydd Maen and Twmbarlwm

 

Then ... disaster! Cwtch took it upon herself to roll in cow shit - not once, but twice - and given the state of her, I decided it was probably best to put her back on the lead, cut the walk short and head back to the car before she got it all over me and - more worryingly - Liz's pale and pristine walking trousers. 

What's that stink?!

Liz Angel: Eco Warrior

Back at the car park, Liz learnt all about Undy Pound while I towelled the dog; thanked God we'd driven there in my car, not hers; and texted the Northerner to let him know we were half an hour away and in the view of the fact we'd had a new bathroom installed the week before, to open the side gate and get as many buckets of water ready as he could.  A Great Ouerflowing of Waters indeed.

Not today, Cwtch!