Well, I didn’t do as much work as I should have yesterday but walking is better than faffing, so after a slice of toast and some tea, I went off for a walk across the moors, with three objectives: a cream tea at Belstone, see the stone circle, and return alive. All three objectives were met, and I didn’t even get lost.
Today’s walk made me seriously think that if I were to buy a place in the UK it should perhaps be somewhere like here. Well connected by trains, many, many walks and beautiful areas, quite quiet even on a July weekend, no fewer than three farm shops and a good supermarket. Nearby villages connected by bus. The big downsides are the big road, the Brexity nature of this area, and the Young Conservatives Club whose members seem to be engaged in a rousing battle via Google Reviews.
The walk started in the woods, along what they call rivers in this country (streams at best), with little waterfalls and pretty glades. It then opened up over a small footbridge into the moor, one of the most spectacular sights I’ve ever seen: a pretty woodland, a stream, a rustic bridge and all that framing open moorland. And sun of course, despite the forecast of storms.
The next 20 minutes of the walk, across the side of a tor, were quite stunning, and I found a huge green space like something from the Sound of Music, with a rocky outcrop with a view of tree-filled valley to one side and looking over Devon on the other, and had a chat with the GF who is in Sweden.
Then walked into the village of Belstone, where I had a quick lunch on a green meadown overlooked by a tor. I got a little rained on, but not too bad. There was a village fete setting up behind me, resignedly covering and uncovering their second-hand books as the bands of rain swept over.
The cream tea didn’t open for another hour so I decided to do something quite unusual, which was to continue the walk to the stone circle and then return for cream tea and then go on again. This I did. The stone circle, the Nine Maidens, was magical – I’m a sucker for these things – the moors were desolate and beautiful, the sheep were well behaved and picturesque. I found a black crow’s feather in the very centre of the stone circle and picked it up as a gift for the GF, but perhaps that was a mistake and it will come back to haunt me or him or possibly there is now a prince somewhere who had been turned into a crow and when turned back will have a wing instead of an arm because I have the final feather.
The third cream tea was the least generous with cream and the scones were not freshly baked. Other than that it was the best of the three, with homemade black current jam and small, excellent scones made with finesse and served by what looked like a retired schoolteacher, so my hypothesis gains more evidence to support it.
The tea has been uniformly bad. One teabag in a tea pot with water that was not boiling. Very poor.
I retraced my steps, again enjoying the bleakness of the moors. What must it be like in the winter if this is how it was on a sunny July afternoon? Tors overhead and in front, and a waterfall in the distance. Some wild ponies with foals. I crossed a stream – the same river as before, and then walked along another sweeping overlook over Devon. Then down past the military zone with people in fatigues. I don’t like soldiers of any kind. And then back to Okehampton and my airbnb for a shower and to return to work.