2 very different walks

3 friends on Dartmoor granite

It's been an eventful few days, some of which events were good or amusing and some of which were just awful.  In fact, today I had what was, hands down, the worst experience I have ever had on a dog walk.  And this is coming from someone who lost her 6-month-old Neka for an hour on an unfamiliar heath once.  And someone who has walked 3 or sometimes 4 reactive Lapphunds at once.  And an Akita. 

In general, I'm pretty careful about where I walk and when and how.  I like a quiet life, and so I aim for walks where I can see who is coming and take appropriate action accordingly.  These days I have Keskiyo who is old and not interested in looking for trouble.  In his younger days he was a handful at times, but being neutered, intensive training and, finally, age have all contributed to his now happy-go-lucky outlook.  In fact, these days if a scary dog heads his way, he throws himself to the ground rather than try to defend himself.  

Then there is Maija who will be 9 years old at the end of this month.  She is the quintessential easy dog - obedient, friendly to everyone she meets, excellent manners with other dogs.  Everything you could ask for.  In fact, I would say that Maija is dog perfection.  She is sweet and gentle and has never had cross words with anyone.  Except, perhaps, on those occasions when some young whippersnapper has the temerity to consider helping itself to her bone. 

Finally, we have Tuuli who has her friends and loves the people and dogs that she knows, but who barks at strangers.  And sometimes lunges.  And there is also occasional leaping.  However, if anyone ever went for her, she would turn tail and run away.   But because she has such bad manners, she is frequently on lead - always if I am somewhere we are likely to run into others.

This morning before 7am I was in the local dog walking fields next to a river in Kingsteignton near Teigngrace.  It's a terrific place for walking dogs, and for that reason it is almost always very busy.  And for that reason I rarely go there - my idea of a good walk is seeing no other people.   But we were there early, and it was pretty quiet.  I walked on past the bridge across the river for the return leg of the journey that most people take and carried on to the next bridge which leads to a track.  Unfamiliar with the terrain, I had Keskiyo and Tuuli on lead and, as usual, Maija was running on ahead.  As the track sloped downhill towards a gate back into the meadows along the river, Maija popped into the woods at the side and 3 Staffies appeared at the gate.

When I heard two people calling the dogs back in panicked voices, I started to get concerned.  Clearly, the owners were worried about these dogs heading out the gate.  I wasn't actually unduly concerned yet; I was far enough back up the hill for my dogs not to attract any unwanted attention from most dogs who you might expect to encounter off lead, and Maija is quite safe meeting all dogs.  But I called Maija back to me, intending to turn around and head back up the track away from the potentially problematic Staffies.  And so my sweet little Maija popped out of the trees straight into the three Staffies who were sniffing around the path.  And they attacked her.

She was screaming, trying to get away from them.  When she leaped into the air to try and escape, they jumped up and dragged her back down!  They pinned her on her back and all 3 were just going at her.

What did I do?  Well, nothing useful.  I was terrified of getting too close with Keskiyo and Tuuli in case I ended up with a 6-dog fight with leads involved.  For the same reason I didn't dare let go of the leads and wade in to drag the Staffies off.  So I stood there and screamed.  Really unhelpful, I know.  But when you're terrified and in shock, it's hard to gather the wits to know what to do.

In hindsight, I think if I had dropped Keskiyo's and Tuuli's leads, they would not have moved because I did sort of register that in those agonisingly slow seconds that Maija was being attacked, they didn't move a muscle or even bark.  Very uncharacteristic.

The owners came running after what felt like minutes but, I guess, was actually only seconds.  I just screamed at them to get their dogs off.   I honestly thought those dogs were going to kill Maija, and they surely would have if not for the fact that they were muzzled.  Thankfully.

The owners were very sorry and apologetic.  But, honestly, those dogs should not be off lead at any time they cannot absolutely guarantee being able to control the situation.  From a dog-owning point of view, why on earth would you have THREE dogs so antisocial that they need to be muzzled and why would you then walk them as a pack when they are clearly so dangerous?  The Staffie owners waited until I ascertained that Maija wasn't badly hurt and I just said they should keep their dogs on lead.  We then turned around and retraced our steps back to the car, avoiding everyone we met on the way.

Back home, I rinsed all the mud off Maija, gave her a dose of arnica and checked her over for injuries.  I'm sure she must be bruised and sore, but at least they weren't able to bite her.

I surely won't be taking that route again, regardless of how early in the morning it is.  I'm sure the Staffies' owners thought it was early enough that they wouldn't run into anyone.  But it was shaping up to be a warm, sunny day, and there were plenty of dog walkers there, even at 7.  So that's it for those fields and us.

This is actually a bit of a shame for Keskiyo who absolutely loved it there in those nice flat fields.  A year ago he could hardly walk and now, newly medicated, he scampers around like a puppy.  Well, not *quite* like a puppy, perhaps, but there is definitely scampering.

On Saturday we had a much better walk.  Around the crack of dawn, Heather and I met up with Loki and the girls for a Dartmoor trek.   By 7am we were headed for Hound Tor via Haytor (and I was freezing because I dressed for the weather that came an hour later).  It was a great walk with superb sunny weather and a cooling breeze to keep the dogs comfortable.  There was some steep climbing and some steep downward skidding, some pushing our way through 7-foot gorse (ruck sacks excellent armor in these situations) and a bit of slipping, one of which resulted in Heather tumbling over some rocks.  Luckily she was unhurt but for some grazes, and we had a terrific morning of blue skies, dramatic far-reaching views and picturesque piles of rocks.

First stop was Haytor and the old disused quarry next door - the best spot around for dogs to run and play.  Maija fell into the water and, at the age of 8 years 11 months had her very first swim.  She headed for a little stand of trees in the middle of the pond for some reason and I feared she was chasing a duck or something.  However, it seems she was just trying to find a spot to climb out.  Luckily she turned and swam back to me through the lily pads because if she had found some solid ground in that little tree island, I'm not sure how I would have got her back.

3 friends after a swim in the quarry

Great views

Stunning piles of rocks

The light was quite beautiful, but difficult to photograph in

One of those gorgeous Dartmoor stone bridges

Sweet curious calves

Headed .... there

Intriguing little doorway

Inside the doorway

Taking the ancient tramway all the way back

Heading home

12 miles on Dartmoor

Actually I'm not entirely sure it was 12, but the road sign said 6 miles each way.  Granted I was only on the road for part of the way, but I'm saying 12 just the same.

We started out on Widecombe-in-the-Moor.  Remember the last time I attempted this walk?  Well, the weather on this occasion was marginally better.  At least it wasn't raining.  But the visibility was pretty dire at first nonetheless.

There is meant to be a moor in that fog somewhere

Maija ready for her hike

A long, steep climb up onto the moor

The views were *supposed* to be wonderful along this walk

Somewhere in the guidebook between "follow the directions carefully because the path is not well marked" and "head for the earthworks you can see on the far hill" I decided to abandon the planned walk.  It seemed like a good idea not to try and follow a route that was dependent on the view.  So I picked a path that was well marked and followed it to where it ended at a road.  Then I followed the road for another hour or so until I reached Postbridge, at which point I turned about-face and retraced my steps all the way back to Widecombe.

The weather was an improving picture as I went.

A definite improvement

Eventually the fog burned off, the clouds cleared and the incredibly blue Dartmoor sky finally appeared.  And when it did, the views were indeed far-reaching and pretty damn fine.

Hard to believe it's the same day

It was a great walk, although it was getting pretty warm for the dogs by the time the sky completely cleared and my rucksack full of water bottles was getting pretty heavy.

Along the way we found an unexpected stone circle, of the sort Dartmoor is famous for.  This one is the Ringastan (Soussons cairn circle).

There were cows and wild ponies a-plenty and oodles of sheep and their tiny newborn lambs.

Maija with a curious & friendly Dartmoor pony

Eating gorse - pregnant ladies really will eat anything

I even had the opportunity to rescue a tiny lamb who had somehow managed to get on the wrong side of the gate.  She was frantically crying for her mother who was on the other side frantically bleating to her.  I managed to open the gate wide enough for her to squeeze through and the sweet purring sounds the ewe made when reunited with her baby I won't forget in a hurry.

Mama & baby reunited

Of course there was the obligatory river and old stone bridge, not to mention one or two really wonderful stone houses.

When we made it back to the car, the girls were happy to rest in the shade for a while before we headed home.

spring on Dartmoor

That's the funny thing about March - some days you know it's spring and other days... well, other days you can't even remember a time it wasn't cold, wet and miserable.

I have several books of Dartmoor walks and outside the warmth and comfort of home I haven't troubled their pages nearly enough.  So a few days ago I packed up my rucksack, stuck my map in my pocket and put Tuuli in her harness in preparation for a 4-or-5-hour hike over part of the mid- moor starting from Widecombe in the Moor.

Even though it's only 30 minutes from where I live, and it is famous and quite the most touristy of all atmospheric Dartmoor villages, I had never been there before.  Or perhaps those are the reasons I had never been there before.  But isn't it beautiful!

You'll just have to take my word for that, though, I'm afraid.  Or go ahead and Google it. Or have a look here on TripAdvisor where they have a nice selection of photos.   At any rate, I have no lovely photos to share because when I got there it looked rather like this.

And like this.

Not exactly the sort of weather one prefers for stomping around on Dartmoor, particularly on unfamiliar territory.  And particularly when it's easy enough to get lost on Dartmoor even in glorious weather.

So rather than risk the humiliation of having to be rescued 10 foggy minutes from civilisation, I turned tail and headed back down the moor to my old stomping ground, Pullabrook Woods in the Bovey Valley near Lustleigh.

I could do that walk with my eyes closed, so the weather didn't deter me in the slightest.  And at any rate, it was considerably pleasanter down there by the river than up on exposed ground with the ponies.

So here are a few pictures of Tuuli on that walk.  Some of the spots look a bit familiar?  As I said, I've done this walk more than once or twice, so there are plenty of photos around of it. 

She is willing to pose, but refuses to look at the camera

Obligatory river shot

Lappy on a rock

And now I'm off to look into the acquisition of a tent.  And a rucksack.  And other paraphernalia that will come in handy for a 2-or-3-day hike.  Yep, that's my plan all right.  Just as soon as the weather improves.  If it ever does.

the one where jennifer gets lost on dartmoor

The weather is improving and I've been dragging a pair of dogs all over Dartmoor at every opportunity.  The first such foray into these longer walks gave us all a bit more of a hike than I was counting on.  I was following a 7-mile circular route from Manaton, down the Bovey Valley then cutting across to Lustleigh and then back to Manaton via Lustleigh Cleave.

I parked at the public car park in Manaton, my first visit to that village.  It is safe to say that I have never set foot in a more unfriendly village.  I was stared at as if no one had ever seen a dog before, some people didn't even reply to my "good morning" greeting, and the locals would rather run me over at speed on the narrow lanes than wait for me & 2 dogs to get out of the way for them to pass.  Luckily I did find one friendly resident in a stable yard who asked me about the dogs and pointed me in the right direction for the foot path which was eluding me in spite of my written directions.  I should have realised then that my directions were less than ideal. 

It was a route I found online - someone's blog, I think.  Anyway whoever recorded the walk must have been doing it from memory, and it turns out he has a pretty rubbish memory.  Several of the route markers listed were in the wrong order so that I passed the "kissing gate below large boulders" before stumbling purely by chance upon the "wooden bridge over the stream" listed sometime before.  And then occasionally, in the middle of of the Forest of Nowhere, there would be crossroads signposted in obscure directions that didn't get a mention at all - "Lower Combe" huh? - "Manaton via Water" er, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be headed for "Foxworthy" (wherever that may be).   

This was the reason I managed to add a whole extra hour onto the beginning of the walk by accidentally (and illegally, as the paths are meant for paying customers, apparently.  Oops.) taking the slippery, steep and rather treacherous and fun Red Route circuit of Becky Falls.  Oh, and apparently dogs are meant to be on lead there.  Oops again. But it was all the fault of the poor directions.  Yes it was. 

Neka & Tuuli posing by Becky Falls

It was a lovely diversion, although I was rather dismayed to find myself right back where I started once I finished the circuit.  It did give me the opportunity to pass the Money Tree, though.  Legend has it that a serpent lives in the river near this spot and occasionally devours unsuspecting travellers.  By leaving a coin in the Money Tree, the spirits of the place (Pixies) will make you invisible to the serpent so that you can pass unmolested.  Anyone who dares to take a coin from the Money Tree will arouse the wrath of the Pixies.  "You have been warned" reads the info sign, and by the vast number of coins tucked into the nooks and crannies of the tree, no one does dare to face Pixie ire.  I'm a big fan of woodland spirits, so needless to say, I didn't pass without leaving an offering. 

Many coins in the Money Tree

Eventually we got on the correct path and things went well all the way down to territory around the Clam Bridge, an area familiar to me from my regular walks coming from the other direction.  A clam bridge, in case you don't know, is the most basic of constructions, comprising a flattened tree trunk slung over a river with, if you're lucky, a single hand rail.  Why it's called a clam bridge, I don't know.  Unless it's because you have to clam-ber out of the river after falling off the bridge. 

Luckily this particular Clam Bridge has recently had a new, safer replacement built next to it so I am in rather less danger of tumbling into the Bovey on a regular basis.  But here's what it looked like before the new addition.  Rustic and romantic, to be sure, but precarious as the devil too.

Clam Bridge, Bovey Valley, Dartmoor

From there, the long but relatively easy climb up the other side of the valley, all the way to Heaven's Gate at the top.  When you reach the top and catch glimpses of the views over the unfortunately tall hedgerows, it's easy to see where the name came from. 

Last leg of the climb to Heaven's Gate

View from Heaven's Gate down toward Pethybridge

You have no doubt heard that what goes up must come down, and take it from me, when one is walking long distances, the opposite of that adage is even more true.  (If a true thing can be more or less true, that is.)  So it was with rather mixed feelings that I "enjoyed" this long, steep descent through Pethybridge into the famously picturesque Dartmoor village of Lustleigh. 

 

Pretty Lustleigh lane

Lustleigh has a famous pub, The Cleave, which I had never visited before.  I can now highly recommend it for welcoming, dog-friendly service, delicious-smelling food and a small but beautifully situated beer garden.

Break for a drink and a rest at The Cleave

And it's a very good place indeed to stop for a rest when you're about to get lost and do approximately 3 times more climbing than you had bargained for.  A pretty climb, though, to be sure, and I picked a lovely spot to stop for lunch that I estimated to be about half-way to the top.  Of course it turned out to be nowhere near halfway to the top.  By the route we ended up on, at any rate.

Leaving Lustleigh, headed for that distant hill.  In theory.

Lunch break

 I'm not sure at which point I realized I had gone somewhat off course.  But I was running out of water, could see an unscheduled tor in the not-very-far-distance and there was no sign whatsoever of a path leading back down into the cleave, where I knew I had to be.  I was much higher than I was supposed to be, but the views were breathtaking.  The more off the course I wandered, the better the views, and the more I worried about how little water I had left, how tired I already was, how much my feet hurt, and how far I still was from my car or any kind of civilization. And to cap it all off, my phone was running out of juice too, so I didn't dare take any photos.  Here is one I did take before I realized just how wrong my location was.

"Aren't we supposed to be over there?"

I checked my location on Google maps and discovered just how far I still was from Manaton.  Then, just in case, I sent that map home in a text for when a search and rescue team had to be dispatched to find me at some point after nightfall.  By now I had covered 14.4 km, or the best part of 9 of the 7 miles I was expecting.  And, according to my route tracker, in these 9 miles I had climbed 1,345 metres!  More than 4000 feet!  Can that be true?  That's as high as Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in Britain.  Granted I didn't climb all those feet in one go, but it sure felt like it.

I'm that dot - on the wrong side of the valley.

It was unexpectedly sunny and warm up there exposed to the elements, but I found some rainwater collected in the hollow of a rock so the dogs could get a drink. Determined to find a path down the valley, I stomped onward over the grassy moor through gorse and an ancient orchard.  This was rabbit country, apparently, so in addition to being hot, thirsty and tired, I also had to drag two dogs who were on a mission to hoover up all the poo they could find.  Finally I had to concede defeat and re-trace my steps back down towards Lustleigh.  At this point, if I had had someone I could call to come and rescue me, then that is exactly what I would have done and covered the miles between Lustleigh and my car at Manaton in comfort.  However, I don't and I didn't so I couldn't. 

At this point my phone was getting seriously low on charge so I switched it off and unfortunately lost the use of my route tracker at the same time.  This is what I got before switching off.

So I don't know exactly how much further I ended up having to walk, nor how much climbing was involved.  Unfortunately.  Because it was a lot.  I estimated an extra 5 kms or so, but looking now at the map it was probably more than that.  And much climbing.  MUCH.  And no, it didn't only feel like a lot.  Although, to be sure, it did indeed feel like a lot.  Because where I was supposed to cut across from point 12 on the map above in pretty much a straight line down and up the valley to Manaton, I simply could not find the right path and so I actually went from point 12 back to point 6 and then retraced the whole rest of the route back.  Needless to say, this time I was careful to avoid the additional illegal detour around the falls.

Even Tuuli was happy to pause for a rest on a bench nearly back to Manaton

We were all glad to get back home.

So I am officially through with following the badly written directions of random morons on the internet.  I have booked myself onto a compass & map reading course and I'm looking forward to getting lost on Dartmoor many more times.  Until then perhaps I should stick to familiar routes.  But, on second thoughts, nah - what would be the fun in that?