Actually it was Yes Tor, Oke Tor is another one.
I had taken the day off today so left for a walk on the moors, a little more ambitious than the one on Sunday as it involved a reasonable amount of climbing. I only climbed two of four tors on the walk, though, and skirted around the other since their descriptions seemed less compelling and it was my walk so I could what I pleased.
Of course I got lost quite quickly, luckily it’s hard to get too lost in the daylight, at least at that spot where there was a clear view over Devon to orient oneself to. Anyway, the lost bit was very enjoyable, stumping around through the bracken thinking I knew where I was going, and it wasn’t wet then.
The first tor is considered a beginner tor, I believe, as it’s quick and easy to get to from a vehicle. It was still a very nice tor, and there was almost no one there – at one point a man built like an armoured vehicle and hung about with about six bottle of water ran past, properly putting me in my place. There were some nice rocks and granity bits on the top, so I lingered a bit till I got cold.
At the foot were some sites of interest which I examined but didn’t find very interesting. This is a longstanding military training ground and there are some gun-related mounds and tracks at that spot.
The walking instructions described the next distance to be ‘a few minutes’ which I am choosing to believe means in the 20-30 minute range as the alternative is that I am very slow indeed. This was over a gravel path used (as it turned out) by the military and rather an uncomfortable walk in my barefoot shoes, but luckily I wasn’t the first to have thought so, and there were grassy paths along much of the way.
I skirted West Mill Tor (boring) and went on towards the two highest points of Dartmoor and indeed of southern England, both officially mountains, apparently. To my eyes mountains should not have sheep on top of them. There were a lot of sheep around, very lustrous looking too, and some that I thought were stumpy goats but I think were actually sheared sheep. At other parts I saw herds of ponies, with many foals, quite sweet and made me want a pony of my very own – not a girly ambition I’d had as a girl but suddenly appealing.
After hopping over a couple of streams the path split, the left going to High Willhays and the right to Yes. High Willhays Tor is the highest spot on Dartmoor but I thought there was something glorious about going to the second-highest spot (by 2 metres) and so went to Yes Tor which is reputed to have better views.
I got near the top and the wind and rain started, and it became very cold indeed. At the top is a granite outcrop with a spiky thing and I went up to it to see a fox hole with four pairs of very large boots sticking out of it, and then saw they were attached to a group of young people in camo, lined up between the stones eating bars of chocolate, like a scene from a movie. A military training group, I imagine, each one carrying (it turned out) an almost cubical backpack, and I suspect very early in their training judging by their awkward politeness over the walkie talkie and groans as they descended with their packs. I asked one how much his pack weighed and was told 20 kg, to be corrected that it was 12 kg, so another sign that they were fresh.
I don’t like soldiers, they make me bristle.
The view was very good indeed, over the moors and over Devon and Cornwall. In the distance I saw the Black Beast of Dartmoor, a cow I think. I ate two apples which gave some strength and then came down.
The return was the same way but I had an OS map so mapped out a different route. This was thwarted when I got to where the military base is, as the public path through it had been temporary diverted to a very long loop. I stumped along, resenting it mightily and caught myself muttering about Afghanistan. Then realised that the diversion intersected with the actual path on the walking instructions, so just returned.
A quick tidying up and a shower and then went for the only good meal I’ve had out: an excellent steak with a scallop and roasted garlic, plus chips and a salad. Good meat, excellently treated, and surprisingly was able to finish it all and even contemplate (briefly) dessert. Also, half the price of somewhere like Hawksmoore. And now I am back, in my nightsuit, waiting for the kitchen to be vacated so I can make myself a cup of tea before bed. I say before bed but it’s only 1923 and I’ve been sleeping at midnight.
So why ok? It wasn’t as stunning a walk as on Sunday, with much less diversity of landscape and no standing stones that I recognised. It was also a there-and-back walk, always inferior to a round walk. And finally, well, I just find it hard to take English mountains seriously. They were a quarter the altitude of Murree, which is hardly on a mountain itself.