A chill in the air

From car to twilight fresh ground as peat stained earth rolls beneath my feet. No conveyor, heaving breath and feet ploughing up ancient long forgotten forest. Furze bound as I turn to track and startle cattle that move on to chew and shelter.

Blackslade passed, the gentle rise to wittaburrow's scattered stones laying where three thousand years could not move them; laid by men; now interred.

The moorland sunset clear and crisp. Clear. Tors and hills presented for skyline muster, my inspection: my moor. God given, God thanked I run on through settlements where once my ancestors had farmed, a child in the long grass playing in the depths of imagination, my grandfathers forefather.

Beyond lies bog, it was bog then and is now. Bracken covers hillward slopes as I press against them, digging in. Bracken brown and beaten by summers sun now receding to autumn gold.

I rise atop Pill Tor with Rippon rising to my Eastern flank, noble, great yet unvisited in her loneliest moments.

Boyond the ponies happy to roam, wild. The pace quickens my heart beating faster and legs workingharderfasterstronger beyond my normal thresholds....... ALIVE!

I reach the car and think, there was a chill in the air tonight.

Paddling The River Teign

Blimey! I think I ought to pack my rucksack and go for a walk... I spent another day on the water today - I did enjoy it.

The South West of England has had glorious weather today, so I took full advantage; a trip down the River Teign Estuary from Newton Abbot Town Quay to Shaldon and return. It isnt the most challenging of paddles but it was my first real attempt to paddle with my 2 year old springer spaniel who, to protect the innocent, I shall call TFS (that flippin' spaniel [I am being very polite here])

Looking up the Teign toward Kingsteignton / Newton Abbot

Very shortly into the trip the wild life really does take over the landscape; diving birds, swans, geese, waders, mullet, sea bass... Of course the dog thinks this is all fair 'game' and is about ready to jump out for the nearest duck at any moment!

There are a number of pubs on the way down the river, I wont take a drink and go near the water, but I had half thought that I might pop in for a cup of tea and sandwich at Coombe Cellars on the way back - but my damn watch was running slow and I hadnt realised how late it was so missed the opportunity!

Looking down the Teign - Coombe Cellars pub.

Ahhh, now come to think of it; that explains something.... As I approached Shaldon (South side of Teign Estuary) I thought my tides were all to buggery. But they werent - it was my watch! no wonder I was fighting the tide a wee bit.The paddling was none-the-less enjoyable, I pulled into Shaldon to have a cup of nettle tea and a snack while the dog went absolutely bonkers chasing every seagull in sight.

From Shaldon, across the Teign.

The paddle home was tough in parts, although the tide was with us, it was the early part of the tide with less volume flowing. I could see dark squalls ripping across Dartmoor, with a black looking Rippon Tor and Hay Tor Rocks on the horizon above the estuary. The River runs East West, so the Westerly (sometimes force 3-4) whas a challenge at times, fortunatelly the wind would go as quickly as it had arrived leaving glorious weather for the return journey. I pulled into Netherton Point to have a look around, It looks like there could be some good camp sites there, but there are also pleanty of signs which optimistically state 'no camping' 'I am certain I was below the high water mark m'lud' ..............

I bought a PFD for TFS (the spaniel) recently and tried it on the way back. Not the most flattering of designs for my lovely spaniel - it makes him look tubby, and anyone who knows him, knows that just aint the case. I dont suppose he minds.

Now the funny thing about paddling back up the Teign is that when the river is still in half bore with fresh water, the closer you get toward Newton Abbot the harder the paddling becomes. It is fine leaving on the ebb because you have the tide and the river with you. Today the river was pushing the tide back which just takes that bit of extra paddling effort to get back.But we did.

Achievements for me today:

I managed to heel the boat right over and consistently paddle on one side J stoking - beleive me that is an absolute achievement for me.

Lessons learned today:

While cranking the boat right over to paddle, dont underestimate the movements of a small spaniel and its effect on your secondary stability!!!

But we didnt get wet.

edited to add: I know Martin Rye will be reading this so I would like to add, that I havent touched the images with photoshop (except to reduce size) ;-))))

Run for it!

Another afternoon out running the moor, this time around Ryders Hill and the Avon. Most of the route was an absolute bog after the recent torrent of rain. I returned back at Combestone Tor two hours after setting out. I have to say I felt totally drained, and yet I can spend three hours running up and down a Scottish mountain and feel less deprived of energy - why? I can only suppose that boggy ground (continuous) must have a cumulative and continual drag on energy levels in a similar way to ABS braking I suppose. Never mind all good training and plenty of sweat. I knew that rain was going to be good for something!

After Scotland

Since returning from Scotland my attention has been turned to more watery activities by way of a wonderful new friend of mine..... a Wenonah canoe! This post illustrates my first real outing in my Prospector 16.

So the day started late, I was running about 15 minutes behind schedule for a first meeting with a local coach who was happy to take me out on her day off. For the sake of protecting the innocent I will call her 'Kitty'. Anyway... I was due to meet Kitty at Totnes Kayaks at 10 am, after phoning to say I was on the way but was running late I realised that I hadnt packed my PFD - damn! so I had to return home to pick it up; have you vere noticed how everthing conspires against you when time just isnt on your side.There had been about 50mm of rain overnight so paddling the Dart above Totnes Weir for a newbie like me probably wasnt a good idea, so we elected to go down stream from Totnes to Stoke Gabriel. The wind was all over the place and very gusty which didnt help matters and as we approached the town bridge I could hear a rushing (and see an upwelling) of water. 'I thought you said there werent any rapids or weirs' I said.... 'no mate thats just the force of last nights rain and the tide going out' came the reply. So first wobbly bit over with we carried on our sweet way past Jetty Marsh and down the Dart.

We had the river all to ourselves and although with the tide the wind made life difficult gusting up to force 3 through to 5 at the most extreme points; there was however enough time to stop for the odd cup of nettle tea, Kitty drank it politely but I could tell she was never going to be an official nettle tea drinker!

It was great having an expert paddler along on my first trip, she made a real point of not telling me where I was going wrong and emphasising the better points of my paddle strokes (thanks). We had what seemed like the whole of the river Dart to ourselves, just the ducks, swans and geese for company. That damn wind kept stirring up though, it really makes you think about trim: not so bad I guess if it were consistent but it wasnt, it was a Westerly blowing across the river and would take great delight in funneling and eddying up or down the river just to thwart your paddling attempts. In fairness though the sun was shining and the trees were green and it really was a pleasure to be on the water.

Oh by the way, if you havent guessed: I am the bald ugly one on the right.

We rounded toward Bow Creek after Duncannon, which has a longer fetch as it faces West. The wind really picked up now and was battering us at force five or so wind against tide and getting choppy, sorry but the pictures dont show this - believe me it was hard work as we tacked (sorry I am a sailor) too and fro across the river. We had to portage! or at least lead our boats around the curve of the river as 15 minutes of paddling had produced about 15 feet of forward motion.

Kitty stopped at this point to pick up a huge bucket (well a bailer) full of muscles for supper, there was one oyster as well but I figured that one oyster in isolation was not exactly a good sign! We led the boats on, up to our knees in stinky estuary mud and then paddled onward.

As we approached Stoke Gabriel we passed the opposite bank to say hi to the adventure folks who were packing up a tarp and about to re-float there huge 12 man open canoes; if you are reading this guys, next time can you save us a sausage. Now as we turned to face the entrance of Stoke Gabriel the wind was on our backs and was gusting force 4 / 5 as we surfed (unintentionally) toward the point at the entrance. The tide was now low and with a bit of jiggery pokery we wiggled our way down the gut to the pontoon quite refreshed from our day out.A cup of tea and crab sarnny to finish off with at that great little cafe in Stoke Gabriel too!

Thanks Kitty.

Who do you trust?

Sorry for the delay in transmission, however I have been side tracked along the way!

Starting with 2 weeks in Scotland, which by most standards I would say was fine: OK it rained, except for one day when I briefly saw the sun: OK the midges came out..... you just cant win sometimes can you. Anyway, despite a rather damp feel to the air I managed to run Ben Nevis (twice) and then head over for a trot up into the Mamores. Now while running the descent I bumped into a group of German (I think) visitors:

"which way to the split in the track?" said a cheerful young man.

"Well I dont live here and I am just out for a run, but there is a kind of cross in the path up there on the saddle before you ascend the summit is that what you are looking for?"

"Oh yes, can you tell me is it the West Highland way?"

"I havent a clue mate I am just up here for a run"

"Oh well that will be it then, how long to the top?"

By now I was loosing patience as I was cooling down. "An hour at the rate you are walking" I replied. "But I dont know if that is the route you are looking for, havent you got a map?"

"Oh yes, a very bad one"

"Good luck" and off I ran back into Glen Nevis. On reaching the car I checked my map to find that they were indeed mistaken and that wasnt the path at all! Never mind, it's nice to be back...

It leaks!

The sky was grey at threatening as I set out on my evening run across the moor. The summer seasons wetness made tussocks grow to full volume which didn't help as I splashed through the wet ground. Past Hart Tor, beyond Black and on to Leather and Sharpitor; sky blackened and the visibility dropped to nothingness as I grabbed for my compass to take a bearing for the road I wanted to cross. The rain came down and the chill bit in as I made the old railway track that passes the back of Ingra Tor. I was chilled clean through to the bone despite a fast pace and by Swell Tor Quarry had donned my lite Speed jacket. Around Kings Tor and onward toward Princetown I reached the car. I grabbed my larger sack and popped the Golite Hex up for a nights shelter with the full intention of a good day to follow tomorrow. The rain came down like stair rods and the wind pressed against the Hex. I was puzzled: where the hell was that water coming from..... damn it's the seams....It leaks!

Arggghh!!!

A definition of rain...

Relative humidity, dry and wet bulb temperatures, due point, slide rules and saturated air... Well those are words I seem to associate with rain; I am fairly sure that if we tossed them around we could define it. I suppose what I am really driving at here isn't a definition for precipitation, more a definition of our expectations. Lets face it outdoors folk; rain is here to stay, so lets enjoy it. A glorious day in God's good sunshine is certainly something to appreciate but as we seem to be blessed with more rain than shine perhaps some appreciation may lighten our lives just that bit further.

I ran through Hembury Woods on the edge of the moor near Buckfast tonight, it lashed it down with rain. My heart was heavy as I dug into the first leaf mulched beech and oak clad hill, I felt the bite of my shoes as they gripped deep down into the mud and water trickled past, bows dipped heavy with loaded leaves and I topped out of the hill into a clearing near the iron age fort. Blood thumped through my head like a mechanical hammer, I knew it was going to be wet through there so I opened up my stride and struck for the other side with little care or attention to the depth of water in front of me; the dog too opened up his stride and startled a small rabbit who, had it been any other dog, would have been snapped up. Smiling to myself I was actually enjoying the wet as I now trusted the sole unit to grip the cobble-like rocks as I skipped back down toward the river. I took some of my usual turns through the hill and woodland with wet skin soaked and sweating, it was fabulous! There was steam rising from summer's warmth, and the top of the woodland was cloaked in a fine strata of mist, what a time of year, night, day! Back along the river as the night crept into the woodland and took life from the light, the River Dart looked angry, malevolent, or perhaps mischievous as her sides snaked and swelled into eddies and stoppers along the way. As the water falls on the Dart in spate, it glistens red with peat stain, not your normal brown of muddy waters, but a deep deep red that contrasts the summer green from the alders that grow around her banks. Suddenly it was there for a moment! a bar of silver a yard long, topping and tailing to show an ancient eye and the hooked kype of a male jaw; salmon, gone again. I dug into the final hill and again felt the hammer pounding through my veins as I reached the top.

Rain, good isn't it. I hope it comes to visit again soon.