Blown on the moor

After spending a blustery night in the camper, pitched up in our stream side car park on the Mortenhampsted to Princetown road, we drove further on to Dartmoor stopping at Post Bridge from where our walk up to Sittaford Tor would begin. The sky was leaden and the rain, which had been merely missal when we woke, had intensified into something more substantial.

As we began along the track up on to the moor it intensified further. The ground already at saturation point wouldn't take any more rain, leaving the track wet and slippery with moisture coating the ground and frequently forming a filigree of moving water. We crossed small brooks running through gullies that led in to the valley through which the East Dart river ran. That was our route towards Sittaford Tor. We followed the contours of the valley for some distance, tracing the path of a disused leat, before descending to cross the river; only to find the river swollen and impossible to cross. After a while walking up stream we tried again, and again the river was swollen; this time though we persevered and getting wet in the process, we were across. We now climbed a steep hillside, by this time the weather had worsened, the wind increased and rain intensified further, now being delivered horizontally and with force by the lashing winds.

It was shortly after, considering the weather had deteriorated so rapidly and so badly, we decided to turn back, about 1500m from our goal. The decision was the right one. We took a different route back, this time avoiding any stream crossings. The weather by now had become intense, the rain lashed at you stinging your face while the winds buffeted you often stopping you temporarily in your tracks. The ground took on the qualities of a sponge, a sponge covered in running water. Walking became awkward, more of a determined stagger than a walk as the ground frequently gave way and you found yourself up to your ankles in mud and water. By now though we didn't care as water had permeated every layer. After about 40 Min's of this we neared our destination. The East Dart river had risen about 0.4m or so since we started back and in places the water running of the hills formed fleeting brooks feeding the river, helping it grow. These brooklets would disappear as quickly as they were created.

Soaked to the skin we now returned to the camper for a change of cloths and welcome cup of tea. By the time we began our journey home the river had risen again and all around running water was clearly visible; running down the hills, across the roads, everywhere. A top walk with good friends and being immersed in natures wilds and exposed to the elements, so extreme, was exhilarating and rewarding. A beautiful day.