Tors and Moors

 

We have both fallen in love with Dartmoor, it’s about the size of London. For Ian, it’s the wide-open spaces and for me it’s the rocky, blobby piles of weathered granite tors. We’ve had fabulous blue skies and a countryside that’s positively glowing with colour in the late Spring sunshine. Dartmoor is an ancient landscape bursting with life and legends. As we drove over the moors, I’d never seen so many moorland ponies, hardy looking cattle, and sheep paying no heed to vehicles or cyclists!

 

We headed to Haytor and Ian disappeared off with the dog for a barefoot wander, while I indulged my passion for sketching rocks.  The valleys are scarred with old quarries, the one near to Haytor was of such high-grade granite that it was used to build monuments in London, including Nelson’s Column, the old London Bridge (which is now in Lake Havasu City, Arizona) and the British Museum. The stone was transported from the quarry down an 18-mile-long tramway (known as Templar Way) to Stover where it was loaded onto ……wait for it… barges on the Stover canal that ended at the sea port of Teignmouth giving easy access to ships and a global market. The now disused quarry is home to a sheltered pool of clear water that is a known wild swimming spot.

I think we’ve both been surprised by the beauty of this moorland, it is far from the desolate empty space that I’d imagined. There’s so much to explore and wild swimming to try at Haytor Quarry, so we are already planning a return visit, even though the roads are rather challenging for a motorhome of Hollie’s dimensions (yes that’s the name that I keep insisting we use!!). 

We’ve now scooted onto Glastonbury. After wandering around the town and the grounds of the ruined abbey, we’re camped close to the base of Glastonbury Tor. I foolishly thought this was just another Victorian folly and had no real history to it, but it’s actually the remains of the 15th century church of St Michael.

 

During the day there have been people dotted along the skyline climbing the rather steep and winding steps to the church tower. We walked up in the evening, it was well worth the view, especially at sunset. If there’s any kind of a gentle breeze, when you stand inside the tower between the open arches, the wind strengthens. It blew so hard that it took my hat off. The sun lowered to the sounds of chanting and drums beating, there was an inexplicable sense of reverence about the place.

Glastonbury aka the “Isle of Avalon” is (allegedly) where King Arthur retired to after his last battle. His remains were miraculously “found” in the grounds of the abbey soon after a costly fire had devastated the site in 1191. Under the gaze of Edward I, Arthur’s remains were reinterned inside the abbey, thereby generating enough cash from tourism to repair the damage.

Our adventures down south are over for now and we are slowly heading home stopping en route in the Malvern Hills. It’s been great and we will be back!
(I’m still gutted about King Arthur)