Swimming in Dartmoor

Not content with walking a full week, we left Wales and headed south to Dartmoor national park for a weekend of hiking in the moors.

Unfortunately, the weather conspired against us (finally!).  Overnight, the world turned into a raging torrent, and driving rains made the visibility nil.  While we were happy to walk in the rain, a raging storm was another story.  Dartmoor can be featureless, and it would be quite easy to get lost on the open moors once the fog rolls in.  

It started to clear, so we hopped in the car and drove to a nearby trailhead, passing raging rivers and washed-out roads and super puddles of hydroplane goodness.  By the time we got there, we were once again in the thick of it.  We napped in the car for a bit, then decided to take drastic action.  

We cozied up in the Warren House Inn, feasting on delectable rabbit pies and scrumpy, a hard apple cidre drink that was quite strong and warming.  Usually, we save the big meal for a victory post-hike splurge, but with nothing much to do, we decided to go for it.  

The Warren House is the best kind of pub: remote, ancient, low-ceilinged, roaring fireplaces, and a creepy poster in the women's toilet.

We stopped by one of the National Park Centres after our warming lunch.  The ranger was friendly and talkative and knowledgeable, and told us which hikes would be off limits as the streams were way too high to make crossings feasible.  He recommended a walk that was mostly in the forest up to Bellever Tor.  We got ambitious and turned it into a 5 mile loop. 

The tors here are iconic- large, free-standing rock stacks on the tops of an otherwise smooth hill.  

It was wet, and blowing.  These people were taking shelter in the tor, trying to eat lunch.  

But a place like Dartmoor is almost best enjoyed in bad weather.  It lends a certain sense of doom and gloom that you just can't get on a sunny day.  Even with my feet squishing inside my boots with every step, I was content to soldier on.

We continued on to Laughter Tor, then back to the car park through the moors and woods.

What is most remarkable about Dartmoor is how much stuff there is here, hidden in plain site.  Standing stones, hut circles, villages, stone circles, cairns, pillow mounds and mines dot the OS maps with so much information that it is difficult to get to point A to point B without wandering off to explore.  The helpful ranger had pointed out a few good ones to check out on the maps- entire villages of bronze-age settlements are still found, completely free for you to explore if you are so inclined.  Not one of them is signposted...the ranger said that "If we signposted one, we'd have to signpost them all,  we'd have nothing but signpost marring the moors".  So with a map and a compass, you can find all sorts.  This apparently was a very high-demand real estate area back in the day.  

 We hiked until dark, and then headed back to dry off and warm up- we got soaked even with waterproofs with the wind driving the rain, but we stayed relatively comfortable as long as we kept moving, and we were thankful anytime we were in the trees and a bit out of the wind.

The next day, we had less rain, but the fog was thick and eerie.

We left our tiny, warm cottage and headed back up into the moors.  Despite multiple changes of newspaper and leaving them in front of the radiator all night, the boots were still damp, so the socks were doubled.

We left the car park and started headed up to Hookney Tor, with thick fog rolling in.

Bennet's cross

Looking back, we could see the Warren House pub....

And then a few minutes later, we could not....

 From Hookney Tor, you can look across to Hameldown Tor, but snuggled in the little valley is something remarkable:

Grimspound.

A prehistoric farming village, complete with 24 stone huts inside a stone wall.  

 A very pregnant pony....

The ponies running wild on the moor are a bit more refined and pretty than the ones in Wales and Cornwall, and they have their own breed registry.

Soon, we were back in the thick fog on Hamel Down, with a skewed sense of direction.  The ravens, also blind to their environment, were flying low and letting out loud grawks, mysteriously appearing and then fading back into the thick fog.  

The subtle colors were making me swoon- tiny closed buds of heather, juniper and wintertime grasses.

This, I loved:

In the middle of the moor, Warren House gets its own signpost.  It was a sign from above: after 8 miles, we were ready to turn back and get one more rabbit pie before heading back to London.

We did get distracted though:

A row of orderly standing stones, laid out by some ancient tribe.

Once again, Dartmoor revealed itself as the kind of place that I'd want to go back to.  There's so much to see and explore, you could entertain yourself for ages.

We did have a really nice parting pie and scrumpy, then hopped into the car and drove back to London.  I couldn't ask for a more amazing winter hiking week.

Hadrian, Day 4: Better than Expected, a nice walk to Corbridge

Our last day of hiking.  This day, we would hike about 7 miles along the Wall and then turn off and hike a few miles to Corbridge, were we would take the train back to Newcastle.  

Ok, so I hate to get all complainy but the English pub in the countryside really needs to step up their game as far as food is concerned.  I wanted to cry at breakfast when I was presented with deep-fried mushrooms, and I hadn't had anything crunchy or fresh in days.  The vegetables were doubtless from the freezer, and presented with no seasoning or ceremony: just a dish with steamed broccoli and carrots and peas, very wilted and mushy and discolored.  Very sad, as I am one of those people who NEEDS my vegetables and I don't feel right if I'm not eating enough of them.  Also, at this particular pub, I asked for small roasted potatoes as a side, and they came back with a plate of roasted potatoes, mashed potatoes, and fried potatoes all on one plate.  Because I need more potatoes.  Also, a microwave and a fryalator does not a kitchen make.  

Anyway.  Aside from the grim foodie scene, I am in love with the countryside here.  

I continue to amaze myself with my body's ability to bounce back after 9 hours of napping.  I can be exhausted and achy and tired, but after a good sleep, I have no problem at all getting up and doing it all again.  Sleep.  It's Magic.

I didn't know quite what to expect with our hike this day; the OS map indicated that we would be following a busy road most of the day.

We got a couple miles down the road and realized that we never gave the key back to reception at the pub.  The thing was huge, too- it weighed about as much as a brick.  A frantic on-trail phone call later and we were told to drop the key by a teahouse a little further up the trail.  Bullet dodged!  People here, despite lacking culinary skills, are friendly.

True, the road was nearby, but it was a fairly pleasant countryside walk, with nice long downhills and very few uphills.  The handful of people we saw on the trail were walking from Newcastle, and they assured us red-faced and puffing that we had a very pleasant downhill walk ahead of us.

The wall, once again, was all but disappeared on us, but there was this interesting section:

You can see the indentation in the foundation where the builders decided that they had enough of the 3 meter wide wall, and suddenly changed it to a narrower structure.    And...that was the only bit of wall we saw that day.

We passed the tiny St Oswald's Church, on the spot where King Oswald of Wales battled the pagans to bring Christianity to the North.

Mostly, we were just following the defense ditch that the Romans dug, and the wall was no more.

It was really easy walking, and despite the road being about 30 feet away, it was peaceful.  Another day's walk and we would have been in New Castle, slightly bored.

The day was pleasant enough, and we turned down a lane to explore a tiny little chapel and a house that was built from a castle.

It seemed quite posh, and they had "Keep Out" signs and high walls all around their manicured grounds.

We decided to try for another English Heritage sight nearby, Aydon Castle, but it was closed on Mondays.  Still, we wove our way through the woods and started seeing signs of civilization.

We hoofed it into Corbridge with a few hours to spare before the train swung into the station, and set out to acquire ice cream and explore.

There was a Roman fort and town here as well, Coria, but I was kind of done with the Romans at this juncture.

It ended up being really charming and sweet town- I wouldn't mind to make this my base camp if I was to ever come back to the area.  Lots of cute shops and cafes and places to eat.  If I felt we smelled nice enough to crowd into a cafe, I would have spent an afternoon drinking tea and people-watching.

There was a beautiful old church of St Andrews, made from stone plundered from the nearby fort.   A very knowledgeable lady in the church gave us a quick history, and pointed out all sorts of interesting things.

Corbridge being a border town, there was a time when the Scots would come down and raid and terrorize from time to time.  She said the black marks on the front of the Norman doorway was from the time Robert Bruce came down to terrorize the townfolk and tried to burn them out of the church.

Town explored and fawned over, we grabbed a pint in a little pub that had a beer garden next to the train station before heading back to civilization.  We ended up doing about 10 miles on this day- the light walk I thought we would be doing was hardly that, and we boarded the train fragrant and sticky.

I'm not rushing back to finish the trail anytime soon, or ever.  I'm perfectly happy with the more wild and remote sections that we tackled, and I'd rather find a new trail to explore rather than walk along a roadside and through cities for a couple more days.

What made the trail totally worthwhile though were all the museums and places to stop along the Roman trail.  It seemed weird, but I did learn quite a lot on this hike.  

My feet were fine, with just a couple small blisters, and maybe just a little tender, but I'm just thrilled that we did this walk.  Even though it wasn't difficult, I felt blissfully exhausted.