Indigo Dreaming on Dartmoor

Time to squeeze in a visit to Dartmoor before the days start drawing in ... 

... and here's Windy Post Cross on the Grimstone and Sortridge Leat, a favourite spot not that far from Cox Tor car park.

Though this isn't our collie, Cwtch, who rarely enters the water willingly.

No, it's Mist of Indigo Dreams Publishing ...

... and here's Ronnie, the poet for the silent. (And border collies.)

And in the distance, Dawn (Ronnie's partner in poetry), the Northerner and me, with Mist and Cwtch.

Staunch little Mist is the leat-lover, straight out of 'The Names of the Hare Border Collie', translated by Seamus Heaney.

'Won't catch me doing that!' says Cwtch, who's far more likely to be found photo-bombing, from the safety of the bank. 

Then, just as it started to rain, we were back at the cars and it was off to the Plume of Feathers in Princetown for some lunch. 

Can I help you with the leftovers?

Much fun was had. This event will be repeated. 

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?