A mire may not be all it seems, particularly on Dartmoor. We tramped through the damp and drizzle, heading towards the blue spot - Leftlake Mire - that we'd identified on the map. Far from being an unpleasant sticky bog, it was beautiful. A vast pool, rather
dark and desolate and cold. We swam across the great expanse, and looked back to see an arch silhouetted against the sky; quarrying used to go on here. We then attempted a bit of, er, synchronised swimming; an experience bizarrely enhanced by the appearance of our limbs in the water; it looked as though we'd all been a bit overenthusiastic with the fake tan.
It was the first day of what is turning out to be a heatwave. Dartmoor was hazy. We walked along the Two Moors Way from Harford Moor, with the larks singing incessantly overhead. It's such a joyful sound. Everything was vast and and wide and open. A stone row st
retched away in the distance on a ridge. It was a long trudge to Leftlake Mire, along the old 'puffing billy' track and by the time we got there, we were hot. The Mire is a perfect swimming pool, with strange cidery water which made our bodies look yellow. What was most delicious was being able to sunbathe after the swim, without immediately having to get changed. Summer has stolen a march on Spring; let's hope it lasts (famous last words).
