Great Mis Tor and Mystery at Merrivale

It was hot.  Too hot.  So armed with my brand new waterproof walking shoes - no, that's not right ... shod in my shoes, I drove up to Four Winds on Dartmoor with Son the Younger and Ted.  

I've long wanted to climb Great Mis Tor, having travelled past and photographed and written about it for years, and the added draw up a Tor named after the cloud that so often shrouds it would be a breeze to take edge off the muggy heat.  Four Winds ... Great Mists ... obvious, innit.


So we climbed it - and there was not a breath of wind.  If the flag had been flying, it would have clung limply to the flagpole.  (Although it was good that it wasn't, this being the edge of the Merrivale Range Danger Area.)

We mopped the sweat from our brows and surveyed the rock formations. Sometimes it's hard to remember that this isn't a massive art installation or grandiose folly, but the work of fire and molten rock hundreds of millions of years ago, with subsequent weathering by the always  - or almost always - present winds.  

Looking out over the Walkham Valley to White Tor.

In the distance and on the opposite side of the River Walkham we could see Great Staple Tor and Roos Tor, two of the highlights on our route.  To get to them we would have to descend to the bottom of the valley and find somewhere to cross - not an easy feat considering how wet this summer has been.  

It was tiring scrambling over boulders and squelching along boggy stretches of bank, and I soon discovered that my brand new waterproof walking shoes weren't waterproof at all, grr.  Ted was in his element, however, even though he had to stay on his lead as there were so many sheep about.  

Eventually we found a crossing point although half way over I had to throw the map, book and camera over onto the opposite bank so that I could balance properly.  But a Dartmoor walk isn't a Dartmoor walk unless you spend at least some of the time teetering on top of a sharp-edged boulder in the middle of a fast-flowing stream of peat-stained water.

What I was looking forward to as a breezy saunter along the ridge to Roos Tor turned out to be more of a tortuous hobble over bog and choppy grass, with sweat stinging my eyes.  It was good to come across the neolithic Langstone Moor Stone Circle and rest for a while.  Not that there is much of it left intact, US servicemen having used the stones for target practice during World War II.  Oh well, I suppose it makes a change from Victorian farmers pinching them for gateposts.

Meanwhile, the views - sunsplash and shadow - were just majestic.   On the slopes of Great Mis Tor, there was a shadow shaped like a cow.

My favourite sort of days on Dartmoor are ones where there is an interplay of shadow and cloud.  Yesterday was perfect - apart from the humidity.  This the view from Roos Tor ... 

... and this from the giant doorjambs of Great Staple Tor.

Often in walking books, pictures of the author's dog feature and if it's a border collie, it will almost always be posing on a picturesque bit of rock.  They have such a sense of occasion and Ted is no exception.   

In fact, he can't stop grinning for the camera.  

Between Great and Middle Staple Tors, there was a herd of wild ponies, with which Ted coped very well.  

The prospect of refreshment in the Dartmoor Inn put a spring in our step as we descended from Middle Staple Tor to Merrivale Quarry, which was the last Dartmoor quarry to close in 1997.  Like all the other disused quarried on the moor, the workings are now flooded.

It was a relief to dive into a pint of cider and a bowl of ice cream on a pub bench bearing the imprint of generations of quarrymen's bottoms.  Would have stayed there in the cool of the bar a lot longer, but there was still a mile to walk back to the car.  

Although we were knackered, we opted to detour through the complex of stone rows, circles, cairns, cists and standing stones.  This area is also called the Plague Market, because it's where moorfolk and townfolk would swap goods and money in times of plague.  

Looking back towards Middle Staple Tor, Great Staple Tor and Roos Tor.

Son the Younger and Ted trying to see if there are any bodies remaining in this cist.  

One last look back at the stone rows.  I'm not one for orbs and all, but given the lack of dust in the air, I am left wondering what this strange misty sphere is nestling in the top of one stone ...

Scorhill, Shovel Down and Kes Tor

Hooray!  First proper walk of the year on Dartmoor and it was just gorgeous!  Like last Easter I was lucky enough to be meeting up with Ellie and Vicky and their dogs, Teddy and Dougal, and as it was only their second visit to Dartmoor, I decided to take them to several of my favourite spots which happen to be very close together.
We parked in the small car park at Scorhill, beyond Berrydown, and walked down hill towards the Teign.  It was the first time my Ted had been off the lead on Dartmoor and he didn't put a paw wrong as long as he had a ball to chase.

Teddy and Dougal were very gentlemanly and allowed the whippersnapper to chase unimpeded while they obligingly carried their own balls.

  
First stop was Scorhill Stone Circle - not at all spooky on a beautiful day but rather different in cloud and mist, I'm sure.  Fragments of charred bone were excavated from the middle of the circle and it is said that horses refuse to cross it.  Ted had no such qualms.  He had a ball to fetch!    

After the Circle we made our way downhill to the where the infant North Teign and Wallabrook converge.  Lots to see here, including the Tolmen stone, through which you are supposed to climb to ease arthritis.  (My elderly mother did this a few years ago, even though it's very close to the river.)  

What's that splodge near the top left hand corner of the photo?  A drop of water?  Or a ghostly orb ... :-)

We also lingered on my favourite clapper bridge of all, the single slab (with added thorn tree) spanning the Wallabrook.  (There was several Wallabrooks on Dartmoor because as the Saxons progressed across it from east to west, naming each feature, the Celts - or 'Welsh' - retreated beyond the next river or stream.  A sort of Here Be Dragons, I suppose.)  

I love this spot. Sometimes I think I might decree that my ashes are scattered here.  Or maybe I'll wreak posthumous revenge on whichever of my four kids are still talking to me and make them trek right out into the boggy middle of the moor ... 

And not forgetting the Teign-e-Ver Clapper over the North Teign - several hundred years later than the previous bridge, being probably 19th century, but still a listed building nevertheless.






By now we had three very happy mucky pups!

On, then, to the stone rows and cists on Shovel Down, which I hadn't visited myself before.  They were pretty impressive. 

Then we cut across open - and, it has to be said, worryingly dry moorland to Kes Tor.  By now my hated walking boots were rubbing my heels and I wished I hadn't been so mindful of the boggy terrain which wasn't.  I could have worn my lovely comfortable walking shoes instead.

Once on top, my sore feet were forgotten as we picnicked in the lee of the outcrop on chocolate (Lindt Orange Intense in my case) and oranges (in my case) and water.  Ted eschewed his bowl of fresh water in favour of lapping from one of the stone basins - the one with the particularly murky gunk in it, of course.  

Ted almost came a cropper when he unaccountably chased a non-existent ball not thrown by Vicky and went careering to the very edge of the rock, only to stop at the last second.  He didn't seem in the least bit concerned, whilst I was already envisaging a dog with broken paws at the bottom and how-the-hell-do-I-carry-him-back-to-the-car-scenarios.

'Come on, Mum, throw the ball, throw the ball, throw the ball!'

We also spent some time enjoying the lovely if hazy views over to Castle Drogo in the Teign gorge; Nattadon and Meldon Hill standing sentinel beyond Chagford; and Middle Tor and Fernworthy Reservoir.  

Lots of interesting archaeological sites on the flanks of Kes Tor, including hut circles forming a substantial prehistoric settlement and stone rows.

Our next stop was Round Pound, enclosing more hut circles and with another thorn tree which verges on the iconic.

Our route then left the moor and took us through the conifer woods of Gidleigh Park.  We managed to go a bit off-piste here, which necessitated a fair bit of scrambling and trespassing, but we eventually arrived back safely  in the car park - and joy of joys, a mug of tea and chocolate cake with cream in Ellie and Vicky's very swish camper van!

The only less than great thing about the day was the state of my poor heels.  Three and a half years and I still haven't broken in my 'new' walking boots.  I miss my old ones so much, I only ever got one blister wearing them once and that on a blisteringly(!) hot day.  I think I'm going to have to save up for another pair in the summer sales.