Monday, 28 September 2015
Wednesday, 23 September 2015
Birthday tradition dictates that I MUST swim around Burgh Island if at all possible, but it's always a toss-up as to whether it happens. In past years we've had driving rain and huge swells, but this year, well, we lucked out. The sea was flat calm and we pootled around the island, clockwise, which is controversial but my favourite way of doing it. As we approached the chasm at the back, the cormorants lined up to salute us. There was a bit of scrambling towards the end of the gulley, but then it was out and through and into the most diverting maze of channels and slowly swirling seaweed. Towards the end we saw carpets of snakelocks anemones covering the rocks, almost like pink moss. I have never seen them in such profusion. Back on the beach we warmed up in HOT sun, so welcome after a lot of dreary weather, and ate oodles of cake. Perfect.
Monday, 14 September 2015
|Near Start Point|
|Home turf: the Dart|
Thursday, 23 July 2015
Out on the western side of Dartmoor, it feels at times like the Lakeland Fells. We clambered up the West Okement and got an exhilarating pummelling in a double waterfall amongst huge boulders lined with ferns. We then had an 'up close and personal' nature moment in a bog, where we found a beautiful insect-eating plant, the sundew. Next stop was ancient Black-a-Tor Copse, before a climb up to Black Tor and spectacular views over to High Willhays, the highest point on Dartmoor. We then hiked back in the hot sun and had the most delicious, languid and welcome swim in magical Meldon Pond, where the temperature in the water was 19.5 degrees.
Sunday, 28 June 2015
My friend Rachel has been trying to find a hidden waterfall on Dartmoor for at least fifteen years, after a friend told her about it in glowing and rather mystical terms. It's called Shavercombe. She's had at least two aborted attempts; the latest was with me, a couple of months ago, when the weather was so wet and awful we had to give up our quest after getting stuck in bogs and failing to ford a river. Today, after a long dry spell, it seemed the right time to try again, and we set off full of anticipation, but trying not to get too excited, in case fate intervened again to prevent us reaching our Holy Grail. The Moor was beautiful. Larks were everywhere, flitting around down low as well as high above us, and clumps of bog cotton dotted the wetter areas. We found the stream and made our way up it. It was tiny, and it hardly seemed possible there could be a waterfall, especially in the rather featureless Dartmoor landscape. But suddenly, up above, we could see a patch of green, and sure enough, there was the waterfall, enclosed by a network of branches, like a moss-lined room. It was enchanting.
The weather has been glorious for the last two weeks, and the water temperatures have been soaring. In the East Dart at Bellever I wallowed, watching an eel, in a shallow pool where the temperature was an astonishing 17.5. During the last week we've been swimming most nights in the SSS (swift swim solution) pool - where the temperature has averaged between 15.5 and 16 degrees. And in a lake on the Moor one night it was 19.5. Plus, the chanterelles are out, with great pickings, especially for June. And by happy coincidence, they grow near our swimming places.
Friday, 19 June 2015
Friday, 12 June 2015
In 1938 my father Roger and his brother Barry went with their grandparents to stay with a fishing family on a very remote part of the Devon coast, at Ivy Cove near Start Point. It was very different then, with its own little fleet of fishing boats. I have a little album of snaps his grandmother took with her box brownie, and I decided to go and retrace their steps, and try and recreate some of the photos in the present day. As we approached Ivy Cove, we came across a couple and their grandchildren and got into conversation. It turned out he was the local farmer, so I showed him the album, and told him how Dad used to stay with a family called the Logans. "Oh Bill Logan still lives there" was the response, and apparently I'd find him working in his garden. Sure enough, at Ivy Cove, there was Bill tending his broadbeans in his veg patch overlooking the sea. I introduced myself and it turned out Bill had a photo of my great grandfather - except he'd never known who he was. We then went down to the beach which was truly beautiful: shimmering white shingle, crystal sea and a raised platform of rock laced with gullies and chasms. It was so strange to think of my father and his brother fishing, swimming and diving here nearly 80 years earlier. Tragically Barry was killed in the final stages of the war just 7 years later, aged 23.
Monday, 4 May 2015
Setting off to see one some of the most spectacular stone rows on Dartmoor in heavy mist is not very clever. But we did it anyway, amid dreary dampness; perhaps the name should have given us a clue. Well it certainly drizzled, but in fact when we finally found the stones they looked rather haunting, shrouded in the mist which lifted and sank again, bringing them in and out of view. We then headed down to the Plym for a swim in what I call "Warhorse Pool" - because it's just below the old farmhouse at Ditsworthy Warren, which played the part of the family farm in the Steven Spielberg film. The river was running high, the colour of cola, and as we swam upstream we could see the large terminal stones of the row standing like eerie figures in the distance.
Sunday, 26 April 2015
I have always wanted to swim at Sandy Hole on the East Dart, and today I got my chance. Judy led the way as a group of us set off from the car park at Postbridge. The surroundings grew gradually wilder, in sepia hues, as we hiked out onto the High Moor. At the top of Broad Down the 360 degree views were spectacular. We could see the East Dart below, and in the far distance the little gorge that is Sandy Hole Pass. The perfectly round pool is downstream of the pass, and was created by either people cutting peat or by tinners. As we got in our feet sank into silky smooth mud, and we were surrounded by black earthy walls, topped with grasses and occasionally fringed with minty green reeds. The sky was vast above us. I loved the feeling of the mud and rubbed some of it into my skin. I'm definitely going to head back there in the summer for a full Dartmoor mud treatment.