Wednesday 7 May 2014

Torquay Day 3

Dartmoor !

We drove to Dartmoor today, following the instructions of the Google Navigator voice. She is an American voice, annoying enough to keep me awake. Also, when she stops talking, I notice. This happens because the phone has lost satellite reception (bad), or the same road continues for some distance (good or bad, depending on whether we're driving along a motorway, or going through 15 little tiny towns, up hill and down dale without a peep from the navigator).

We took "B" roads to get to the hamlet of Princetown. B roads have sections just wide enough for 2 cars to cross, and some bits that aren't. At one stage, I had to reverse for about 50 metres before a very small car could squeeze past. Added to this difficulty are the hedge rows. They can be absent (good), present on one side (OK), or on both sides of the road (bad). If they are higher than the car, that is worse. If they are at the edge of the bitumen - and most are, that is worse again. If the road is then winding, and uphill or downhill, that is worse again (we saw a maximum signposted gradient of 20% today; in Australia that's a cliff). The English also think it fun to replace one or both hedge rows with stone walls ! Still, it was good fun, in a daring, anxious, look-around-the-bend kind of way.

At Princeton  I read the car thermometer - 10 degrees.  We got out of the car after putting on everything we had. I bought gloves at the National Park office, and we got a map of our intended walk over the moor. Then we went for hot soup at a nearby café - and very nice it was too. After leaving the café we headed for the start of our 10 Km walk, only to be stopped by the sight of the Dartmoor Brewery. An oasis in the heather ! However, I could not stay and investigate - the moor called to us, and we needed to get around while the rain held off.

The first thing Robyn did was jump into a puddle in her new Crocs boots.

Into a biting wind we trudged, along an old disused railway track. It took us past tin mine workings, stone bridges, Dartmoor ponies, sheep, Iron Age round houses (Stone circle bases are all that's left), and trickling streams.

A Dartmoor pony; they're really small.

 

 



Sheep grazing contentedly in a freezing gale.

 

 



It is a bit run down now; but this round house was a premium address on the moor 3,000 years ago.

Rain showers came and went, and the wind was quite strong and cold; we walked on. The path goes around a low hill known as the King's Tor. This hill, and every other one around here has granite outcrops on the top.

Here's Robyn proving that a safety orange raincoat is a perfect match for a brown coat. Oh yes, there's a granite outcrop behind her.

Of course, after rounding the hill and feeling pleased that we were on the homeward journey, we missed a turn. I thought that another flat bit of track would lead us back to the main track, and it did ! - after walking a kilometre through a bog on the side of a mountain (don't ask me how water can sit on the side of a slope, I just know now that it can). Robyn was decidedly worried until we regained the path, and puffing like billy by the time we did. I, of course was not worried at all !! (really, I wasn't; truly ... )

The weather closed in about then. Rain dogged us most of the way back to the town (which actually was only about three kilometres - it just felt like twenty). The wind at our backs pushed us along. After about 2 1/2 hours on the moor, we reached the comfort of a warm, dry car. It only went one block up the road before calling into the local pub. Here I bought two bottles of "The Legend", which was made in that brewery we'd seen earlier. I put them in the car for later.

Feeling a bit warmer, we set off toward a Dartmoor Pony centre near Bovey Tracey. Only a mile into the journey, I spotted the Two Bridges Hotel; we stopped for tea and cake. England is chock full of pubs and tea houses in the country, many just there by themselves, or with one or two houses nearby. I expected the place to be run down and deserted. We had trouble finding a park, and inside we took the last free table. The place was humming. The pub had the local Dartmoor beer on tap - but I couldn't have one. I settled for coffee and disappointment.

More B roads and scary moments later, we arrived at the town of Bovey Tracey. Robyn then got some information from a local tourist information office - the place only opens on Sundays ! There was still time left to go to Plymouth, so we did. This was a major port in the old days. Francis Drake had his base here. He recovered so much treasure from enemy ships that Queen Elizabeth (the first) knighted him. This makes him Britain's favourite pirate ! They even named an island (a little one, in the harbour) after him.



 

Mrs Drake's little boy Frank. If you look carefully, you can just see that he is wearing shorts (bloomers). 'E don't 'alf look funny !

 There are three more military memorials on this same rise, which looks out over the harbour. The town still has a naval base, and we saw a navy ship come into port and proceed up a channel to their dock.

The cold wind drove us back to the car once more. It was time to go home. Our favourite American (Miss Mary-Lou Google-Maps) told us how to get to there, right to Warren Road where we are staying. In England, we can define an address by the postcode. Google maps recognises it, so we've started using that as a point to navigate to. Ours here is TQ2 5TN, though I don't know how much of the street that covers. It's weird until you get used to it, but it works.

Now we're home, and Robyn is cooking me a nice piece of cod. North sea cod really is nice, firm white fish. I can see why everybody likes it.


Till tomorrow - stay warm !

Lex and Robyn