Walk Dartmoor

Ten Tors 2010

2010-05-10T15:52:00.003+01:00

Some may say; thats another year over with! I would prefer to think of it as the start of the next year for the Ten Tors Challenge.

Much is written by the various news media on the event this year, as HRH The Duke of Edinburgh came to visit in celebration of the 50th anniversary. So I wont try and emulate the BBC with a long story of the history of Ten Tors etc.

The organisation for the event starts much earlier in the year, under the 'umbrella' of 43 Wessex Brigade, who take responsibilty for the event. However, this can only be achieved with the input and participation of various 'working partners' to bring about a successful event on the second weekend of May each year.

One of those 'working partners' is the team of scrutineers, who have the role of checking that the 400 participating teams, consisting of 2,400 youngsters, are carrying the mandatory required equipment for the challenge. And to walk the moor in small teams during the event, to provide an additional mobile monitoring service to keep an eye out that the 'rules' are being adhered to.

Rules, what rules? Many may say there are just too many rules in life, but for an event like this there need to be rules. The rules are what make it a challenge, and in accepting the challenge, one likewise accepts the rules; or so it would seem. One part of the challenge which we accpet when entering a team for ten tors is that of the clothing and equipment. Many lightweight and SUL hikers would cringe, or possibly cry if they saw the list of clothing and equipment. I did the 55 mile ten tors challenge twice as a young lad, I dont think I could do it again today carrying everything that the youngsters must carry. You see that is the broad distinction in equipment carriage: that of carrying knowledge with light kit, or carrying the kit because you dont have the knowledge. I can get away with lightweight equipment because I have over 3 decades of experience to fall back on, whereas the youngsters taking part in the challenge may have had just 3 months of training before the start of the event.

Here is a good example of why 'rules is rules' and why they need to be followed:

Water: 2 litres - This can be a platypus or hard bottle, although a combination of the two would be recommended to manage 'on the move' sterilisation of stream water while drinking from the platypus (or other hard bottle)

But one team member presented this as a 2 litre water bottle:

In fact very few of that team had 'proper' water bottles, with the team manager defending the actions becasue of what he had been allowed to carry on the OMM. Different competitors, different skills, differentt challenge, different rules.

Anyway, back to where I was going with this post:

The team of scrutineers arent there to make life hard, they are their to ensure that the rules of the challenege are met equally and consistently by every team that enters.

Well done to to all of the youngsters that entered this years event, and good luck with next years event.

And for the benefit of the scrutineers who were unable to receive my earlier email, here are your team photos, just click to expand and then save to desktop:

Sunset Delight

2010-04-24T16:08:00.000+01:00

I took a stroll with the dog from Burrator Reservoir the other night. Wow what an evening; I had only intended a brief 'stretch of the legs' but found myself heading for Down Tor. The setting sun was absolutely magnificent as it nestled between Down Tor and Sharpitor. Making the most of this glorious evening sunshine I extended the walk over the top of Hingston Hill where there is a huge bronze age stone row and associated cists and cairns. It is within easy reach of the Burrator area, and I really would recommend a visit. Recent evidence indicates that some of Dartmoor's antiquities pre-date Stonehenge by up to 1000 years taking us back to 5,500 years ago - News article .

All all of this while walking the dog; Dartmoor really is good value :-)

Dartmoor Challenge 2010

2010-04-19T14:39:00.005+01:00

This year's Dartmoor Challenge charity walk was held this weekend (17th - 18th April). Over the nineteen years that the walk has been organised for, participants have raised over a hundred thousand pounds for childrens cancer charities. This year the money has been raised for the Derriford Children's Cancer Service. The walk has an excellent theme which is set by organiser, Steve Parker, in that the 20 and 30 mile routes must end at a predetermined Inn somehere on Dartmoor after leaving the Plume of Feathers in Princetown first thing in the morning.

Those people who know me well, realise that this theme is very close to me... No, not the walking to a pub; children's cancer charities, is what I was referring to! Without going into detail I should explain that my son was diagnosed with cancer (stage 4 neuroblastoma) when he was just two and a half years old: he is now seven years old, fit and well, and with grace of God will stay that way. My family owe so much to the work of the charities that supported us throughout that period. No child or parent should ever have to go through the terrifying experience of walking onto a pediatric oncology ward: ever! However, the charities that surround and support these children and their families during treatment are just fabulous.

Back to the walk....

The objective for day one was the Oxenham Arms in South Zeal. The 15 mile route left Postbridge for Grey Wethers and Sittaford Tor, through Quintin's Man and over to Hangingstone Hill where we stopped for a bite to eat. Unfortunately, Alison had less to eat thatn others after a large hairy hound in the shape of a springer spaniel decided to run off with her sandwiches - oooops! Keeping us company over the lunch was a 4 inch piece of ordnance that sat a few yards away, it appeared as though it was 'fired / spent' but you can never be too carefull - please NEVER touch metalic object poking out of the ground within a range area. Just take note of where it is and report it - HERE.

From Hangingstone Hill Graham managed to find us some rough ground to follow just above Watern Combe - Thanks ;-) and we soon found ourselves admiring the rock formations of Watern Tor. Onward then to Wild Tor where we posed for the mandatory group photograph.

Next stop was The White Moor Stone Circle, and once the tale of the standing stone (inthat: hugging it will bring you wealth before your next birthday) was told, members of the group 'legged it' a few hundred metres just to touch the stone, which stands isolted away from the main circle. One final climb over the magnificent crest of Cosdon brought us down into the South Zeal track.

The track itself brought it's own interest as we discovered a fair'ys house nestled in a tree! I kid you not...

Having paid hommage to the fairy's, and what with having been touched by the glorious sunshine, our pace was quite spritely as we headed for the sanctuary of the Oxenham Arms, where Andy waited with the minibus, and Carl handed out this years challenge T shirts.

The landlady tried to distract us with pots of stuffed olives, and the most amazing homemade sausage rolls that you have ever tasted, alas we were overcome by some strange desire to drink cider poured over half of Antarctica in a large glass.

Speaking of cider: are you supporting the cirder drinking campaign for the general election? I must point out at this point, that listening to the Wurzels is a personal failing of mine, and shouldnt be taken as a general indication of Devonian attitudes :-(

Moving on to day two

Day two started from the Plume of Feathers, Princetown, and out to Nun's Cross farm in absolutely cloudless skies, and with the current air restrictions not even so much as a vapour trail! Today's objective was the The Old Inn, Widecombe in the Moor. We made our way to Childe's Tomb for the second day group photograph, and then up the long ascent to Mount Misery: a cross which sits at a wall corner below the crest of Ter Hill.

Now, I dont know much about lizards but there seemed to be quite a few of them about on Sunday, Graham seemed to have th knack of catching them, and I have to say they were certainly fine little things with a diverse set of colourings from one to the next:

From Ter Hill we made our way through Hexworthy and down to Dartmeet where we stopped for the mandatory ice cream before carrying on up the banks of the East Dart.

At this point I would like to point out that if any feels that Dartmoor is a) Flat or b) Unchallenging to walk. Just try the these last five miles up and down hills, roads, tracks and moorland: you may be surprised!

So with tired feet we made a final descent from Hamel Down into Widecombe for a quick pint before Andy drove us back to Princetown.

What a fabulous weekend, thanks to everyone who took part in the organisation, and participation of this event. Thank you to the dedicated charities who help infants and children through their cancer treatments, I for one, owe you so very much.

All monies from this year's event will be presented to the Derriford Children's Cancer Service on the 12th June 2010 at the Plume of Feathers Inn, Princetown. If anyone reading this would like to retrospectively sponsor / donate please email me:

contact@walk-dartmoor.com

Nun's Cross By Night

2010-04-11T11:21:00.000+01:00

Night navigation seems to be featuring for the last few weeks or so. A couple of nights ago, my mate and I tootled off to find some more Dartmoor antiquities. Starting at Nun's Cross Farm, we made our way through various bronze age settlements and cairns to eventually walk the length of the Hingston Hill stone row.

Siward's Cross (Nun's Cross Farm) was our starting point. It was very dark but a 15 second exposure anda bit of back-light, provided by my headtorch, gave us the only photogtraphic opportunity of the night.

Dog and a compass

2010-04-07T11:46:00.007+01:00

It was getting dark fairly early last night as a thick mist had settled on Princetown but the dog still needed a walk. I could have done what any other 'sane' dog owning person did last night, and take the dog for a quick spin around the block or for a run around a field: oh no I had to go for an exploration. My interest in bronze age sites has grown over the years, and living on Dartmoor provides a whole variety of places to visit: beaker sanctuaries, reave systems, standing stones, hut circles, cists and cairns a plenty. So last night I tootled off on to the moor with compass in hand and my spaniel fleeing around in about 10 metres visibilty. I wanted to find a little row of stones and associated cairns that I had never visited before, to be truthfull I dont think many people visit this particular site as it is small and tucked away off the beaten track.

What a fantastic little stone row, very small but clearly of importance to those who prepared it. It reminded me of the tiny double row on the site of Higher White Tor, long forgoton and walked past by most. I walked to it's terminal stone which was intersectd by a spring and small stream of water. Shooing away the dog I took a few photographs and naviagted to some of the cairns that were within a few hundred metres but cloaked in fog.

While I stood at this site, which would be about 3,500 to 4,000 years old, and the fog weaved its way around the darkening landscape, I thought: shouldn't it feel spooky? But it doesnt and didn't. For all the legends and myths that surround Dartmoor, the hairy hand, Cutty Dyer, pixies, 'The Hound' etc, at the end of the day they are just that! Myths, legends, stories! (which reminds me, Dartmoor Brewery has a new beer called 'Legend' which the Plume has just started serving)..... Where was I.... oh yes, stories thats all. The most ghastly thing on that moor last night was probably me.

And besides which, I had a dog and a compass to protect me.

Night Navigation Training

2010-04-06T14:44:00.004+01:00

Last night will almost certainly be my last group training session at night until the autumn. As the nights get shorter, and days longer, it isnt practical to start your coaching session beyond around 8.30pm. That is unless somebody wants to keep going until 2 in the morning. We all finished at a respectable time last night, the wind was strong but warm, and the visibilty across the moor was generally quite good. The top of North Hessary was cloaked in cloud, which, in Princetown, is only a step away from mist.

Nevertheless, poor visibilty or night navigation was the objective anyway. Off we paced... Now there is an interesting term: 'pace'. Many people ask me how should they define a pace;; every step? every two steps? In most cases people count every other 'step', either the left or right foot. Last night I was asked this and for once I could add something new (Thanks Dr Kate Gilliver, lecturer in ancient history :-) for pointing this out). Pace is derived from the Roman unit of length, which was 5 Roman feet. It is the measure of a full stride from the position of the heel when it is raised from the ground to the point the same heel is set down again at the end of the step. So in short, by definition, it is two steps.

Last night's objective was to enhance already known techniques for the clients. Firstly, how many paces do you do to achieve 100m? The answers varied, and we took mental note of this. OK so now we are going to pace 650m; everyone walked off line astern into the darkness. They then stopped where they believed they should be. I carried on a further 20 paces - 'its here' I said ' please count your paces to join me'. Having done so the group eneterd into discussion while I demonstrated a feature which is most definately 650m from our start point. Now all of these folk are experienced at pacing and have often measured their average pace count on, say, a football field but the darkess and slightly uneven track and created a some uncertainty and shortening of step. By performing the exercise over multiples of 100m (6 or 7 hundred metres) you will also achieve a better average than just counting one leg of 100m.

Everyone made note of their new pacing objective while I set a new target on the map, this time over uneven tussock and off into the moor itself. When walking on a bearing at night try to eliminate as much error as possible; hold the compass level and in front of your body as if you were reading a text message on it, align your body and feet as well as your head to the direction of travel and then start to walk. So many people point their head in the direction of the bearing but their feet take the first few steps on a slightly divergent heading.

Again the group ended up short of their target by a few paces, they then made calculations to assess their 100m pace value for tussocked uneven moorland. Soon everyone was hitting targets, and everyone had a much more comfortable feel for their pacing. The proof of the pudding, as always, is in the eating... The final leg was navigated by a lady who had never walked on the moors at night: 'Its 780m' she said 'That's 7 lots of 100m plus 52 paces for me' she continued; and off they went. 12 minutes or so later.... 'It should be here' she said. Everyone swept their headtorches left and right, and there, not 10 feet away was the boundary stone. Over nearly 800m to an accuracy of 10 feet on a hand held compass - fantastic!

You were lucky.

2010-04-03T22:16:00.002+01:00

So....

Thursday evening saw my mate Neil and I having a quick 'bimble' up the East Dart River. I wanted to look at some crossing points while there was a moderate to high flow on the river. We stretched our legs out at about 3.30pm from Postbridge, and made straight for the waterfall; no chance of crossing there to be perfectly honest. We then eliminated several other places due to volume of water.

Now, I have stuck my leg through a few crevasse bridges in my time but I really didn't expect to find one on Dartmoor! While stepping through some scant remains of snow on the moor I had managed to plop through, waist deep, to a small rivulet which had been covered; Neil, being lighter than myself, by some reasonable margin, had managed to cross withought breaking through - Git!

Struggling back to my feet, I could see the spaniel 'whiffling' off to investigate an object which had suffered the same fate as I: a sheep! The poor soul was stuck up to its neck in snow with about 3 feet of icy water rushing past its lower, subterranean, body. Now, it's true that the closest I have ever come to farming is watching All Creatures Great and Small, so I was happy at least, to see the sheep did not put up a struggle as I wrenched her to the surface. She then padded off as if it were all in a days work!

Leaving the sheep to it's destiny, we carried on to Broad Marsh where we examined a further river crossing which is often used when the river is in full tilt; this seemed quite adequate but, to be perfectly honest, is an absolute torture to get in and out of while negotiating bog, water, hidden streamlets etc etc! Keeping this firmly in mind we decided to exit the valley via the top of Broad Down as the wind was freshening and the sky was the colour of coal ash...

That was it! 30 mph winds and a driving squall (lasting half an hour) of hail, followed by sleet, snow and freezing rain. It had been forecast, we new it was likely; and yet e had decided to walk out into it for no other reason than to look at places to cross a river - where we had crossed a hundred times before!

Our return to the lower slopes above Archerton (an hour later) saw the wind and hail abate long enough for a cup of coffee from the flask. I looked at the dog, oh, he has another bone in his mouth. Double take - Oh!!! it was a bit more than just a bone; and entire lower leg to be precise. At this point I must stress that my dog has no interest in following, worrying or otherwise being near sheep but when a leg of mutton as offered on a nearby decomposing body, I guess he couldn't resist!

Then I thought back to the sheep I had pulled out of a hole an hour and a half earlier, and thought: you were lucky sunshine...

Easter must be near!

2010-03-30T20:06:00.002+01:00

So Easter Sunday Morning 2008 was great, I awoke in my Akto after a good day of sunshine on the Saturday which had propelled my walking buddies, Backpackbrewer Dave and Chairman Bill, and myself quite nicely through much of Southern Dartmoor, to find snow all around.

We then carried on through a mix of sleet, wind and then just plain ordinary hard hitting rain throughout the day.

Two years down the line and I looked out of my bedroom window this morning to see large chunks of snow floating past, this gave way to strong winds which in turn drove them past and eventually turned them to sleet. It got to around 3pm before I had to just bite the bullet and step out into a rather wintery scene in Princetown. No lying snow, but the wind was strong and the hailstones were hard!

Having made the effort to get outside, I embarked upon some site reviews for naviagtion training that I use on a regular basis. Dartmoor navigation is not as difficult as people think, or at least I dont think, Dartmoor navigation is a difficult as people think; if you see what I mean. But to give folk confidence, it really, really does help if the features they are tasked to find are actually on the ground ;-) So that was my task for today, navigate to and from know points that should be there, and in fairness to ordnance survey - they were.

It's just that the hail kept comming; dark bands of it approaching in a turbulent cold front. I didnt mind too much but I have to say that the spaniel started to complain after about and hour or so of this. Back home for tea and cakes then - obviously.

It was at this point, I thought - blimey Easter must be near.

;-)

Ten Tors

2010-03-30T11:42:00.005+01:00

It was 1986, and we were as fit as a fit thing that had just come out of a gymnasium... Six of us were about to take part in the Ten Tors Challenge on behalf of our RAF unit. As young airmen we felt it important to beat every other airman, or RAF team, taking part. The resultant being that would run from tor to tor; unfortunately it was often the wrong tor! This in turn made our 55 mile event something closer to 75 - or at least that is how I imagined it. It was a horrendous year for the event with rain, spate rivers and tents cart wheeling across Okehampton Camp.

1987 saw me as a new team leader for the RAF Locking team, we successfully completed the 55 mile challenge but all I can remember was my mum and dad being there at the finish line. I can’t remember who was in my team or where we went - nothing! Why is that? I wish I could, I really do.

Again the youngsters are preparing for the Ten Tors challenge, as they do annually, although now without regular servicemen taking part. The pride and sense of adventure is still there, very much alive and beating in the hearts of every schoolboy / girl or cadet that steps forward onto the moor, or should I have said 'The Moor' - Dartmoor. This year is an anniversary for celebration of Ten Tors, the first year it was run from Denbury Camp for the Army to use as an exercise but since 1960 it has been open to others to enjoy.

So 50 years on from its beginnings ten tors will see 400 hundred teams of youngsters crossing the moor again in May. The main contingent of youngsters will be made up of schools and cadet units from the original 7 counties of Wessex, many of which from my own beloved Devon. Alongside this event also runs the Jubilee Challenge, which allows youngsters with disabilities the opportunity to take part in an expedition event of their own; if you are a grown man, and you don’t want people to see you cry with tears of joy, then you had better stay away from this event... It is the most wonderful outdoor challenge I have ever witnessed, I can’t watch it again, because I cry.

I have the good fortune to be a scrutineer for the Ten Tors event these days, and as such I am also invited to attend the RAF Ten Tors training weekend as part of the their safety team. There are no airmen taking part, it is a training weekend for cadets from three different Air Training Corps (ATC) wings, putting together 25 teams to take part in ten tors.

The spirit of adventure and expedition is absolutely key to the leadership development of our youngsters, it allows them to cut back to a bare minimum, without playstations and DVDs, and explore themselves and their peers capabilities.

"There is more in you than you think"

This is the motto of Gordonstoun School, founded by Kurt Hahn who created Outward Bound. A belief that expedition was at the heart of self understanding through experiential education was the central pillar of his teachings.

The sense of adventure doesn't just rest with youngsters of course, many of us want to learn and to grow with 'outdoor experience'; why else would we be writing these blogs and packing our bags with the minimum requirement to walk the moors / hills / mountains. Putting on your walking boots is like the donning of a cloak, it transforms and transports us to freedom, and maybe, just perhaps - our youth.

Dartmoor has provided the backdrop for this fantastic opportunity for fifty years now, Ten Tors is more than just a walking event with a few blisters: It is the formation of our future leaders, it bonds boys and girls with the outdoor environment and teaches them a sense of self worth and achievement that they will never attain shopping in Plymouth, or on a playstation at home.

So why can’t I remember anything about the1987 Ten Tors? Oh well.

Time to return to blogging

2010-03-23T17:04:00.002Z

Well any time is as good to return as today...

Wet, wet, wet! So a brief walk out on the moor clearly demonstrated that even in torrents of rain you can have fun... If you're a spaniel that is; the dog thoroughly enjoyed himself, while I was regarding my 10 year old Paramo Alta and thinking: blimey this stuff is good! 10 years, dog bites, gorse, mud and hours upon hours of use. of course I do clean it from time to time, but it is as waterproof as the day it was new.

I think I'll put a chicken in the oven now ;-)

A chill in the air

2008-09-18T20:49:00.006+01:00

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.

Run for it!

2008-09-07T19:39:00.003+01:00

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!

Who do you trust?

2008-09-05T22:27:00.004+01:00

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!

2008-08-17T22:14:00.003+01:00

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...

2008-08-09T20:16:00.007+01:00

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.

Nostalgia...

2008-08-05T23:02:00.010+01:00

Having rummaged through a few old Kodachrome slides I found this little gem that I took some years ago in the Antarctic. Certainly not something that would be of much use on Dartmoor, but a reminder in the debate of tarps/ tents etc etc etc that there are also extreme shelters such as this. The pyramid tent weighs.... a lot... and is double skinned ventile outer with four large diameter allow legs / poles. It was an absolute palace to live in.

Above is the worlds finest dog team (I would argue) I have scanned this from one of my B+W prints which is why it is looking a bit ropey... Anyway, the team is 'The Admirals' of Rothera Base Antarctica taken in the winter of 1992 when the sea ice was really good and allowed John S and myself to sledge south to the Argentine base on the Debenham Islands. I suppose much of this isn't relevant to today really, nor to this blog, but what the hell I may as well share some memories alongthe way. :-)
I cant get the hang of posting pictures an text and everything seems to arrive at the top of the page so if anyone has some guidance on this I would be grateful.

Evening On The South Moor

2008-07-23T21:37:00.000+01:00

A short outing tonight: a run from Cold East Cross up to Whittabarrow and across to Tunhill Rocks heading for Bonehill and then back across Top and Pill Tor. Interstingly enough (or at least I find it is) is a granite water trough carved out of the rock in situ at Tunhill Rocks, it just sits their amidst the Tor either having been incomplete or perhaps the craftsman who started it passed on???

It is only a short run of about 45 minutes or so but it takes in asome fantastic scenery with views across to Princetown and Cut Hill. The route is under the shadow of Rippon Tor, which is a grand Tor standing proud to the SW of Haytor Rocks, now almost osolated by the roads that run past.

Ooouch 22km of bog and tussock

2008-07-21T21:33:00.000+01:00

Well that really did hurt... I had planned a 27km run across the moor today but cut it short by visiting various sites of interest along the way (well they were interesting to me anyway) This included Green Hill and Great Gnats Head. Boggy ground and tussocks all the way around today barely an opportunity for flat ground. that was really tough going.

2008-07-21T09:42:00.000+01:00

This weekend saw a flurry of activity; Starting with Friday night I decided a run may be in order. Camped at the Fox and Hounds Bridestow (North Moor) I ran to Brat and Arms Tor for some exercise. The weather (being a Dartmoor summer) closed in and left me with very little visibility. However not to be out-done I obviously made it back to the campsite!

Saturday was a great day out, a fast walk from Nodden Gate around Brat Tor found me into the boulder field at the foot of Hare Tor. Then descend into the Tavy. The river was in Half spate so I investigated the Watern Oke settlement before heading off to Sandy Ford across to Pinswell and up to Fur Tor. A Ravens nest now sits in the Tor - it was huge. I then headed across Fur Tor Brook and around little Kneeset heading toward the West Okement, up and over Amicombe hill, Green Tor Great Links and back to the Lyd at Nodden Gate. An assortment of Bloggers had camped there for the night, a great group of people who I found later in the pub with a pint or two.