Blighty Bound - Day Twelve, A Walk On The Moors

Flushed by my success of the previous day's walk, I donned my boots again and made for the hills.

Avoiding yesterday's mud and water, I struck off up the hill making for the Moors proper. We were, you see, literally on the very edge of Dartmoor, and all I needed to do was walk up the hill and I'd be there. Easy. Certainly the going was not as boggy, because I was on a metalled road, but it went up and up and up. I worked out later that in two kilometres I gained one hundred and fifty metres in elevation, which isn't huge, but boy was I puffing as I reached the edge of the farmland and the beginning of the moor, marked as is usual in these parts by a cattle grid.

I could have stopped there, but I wanted to reach the immediate summit of the hill I could see from our cottage so I pressed on. Going through a gate in a stone wall, I left the road, but the track heading upwards was metalled, too, so it was relatively easy. There I came across the remains of Rippon Tor Rifle Range, a significant construction from 1939, built as part of Britain's preparations for the imminent war. It has massive brick-lined butts, a marker's gallery and various firing points, and although a significant size, nature has been quite quick to reclaim it after its final closure in 1977. Most of the buildings had been demolished, but the Dartmoor Preservation Association moved to prevent further demolition on the grounds of the range's historical importance. It's certainly an interesting place to visit, and apart from the scale of the butts, the views down along the Teign Valley and out to the sea are spectacular.

I scaled the butts, too, pleased at my ability not only to scramble up the steep bank, but to come down again without falling arse over tit. I'm not too decrepit, not yet, anyway.

The walk back down the hill was hard on my knees, and I recalled days in my youth, struggling through West Germany's Sauerland Hills with a pack on my back, although thankfully this day I was pack-less. That extra thirty pounds really did for my knees, even as a teenager.

I did snap a couple of pictures of the wild primroses that abound in the hedgerows, here and all across Devon. If you like your wildflowers, the Primrose is a beautiful sight.

I present a few photos of the walk, now that I've recovered!