Ebbor

I had planned to go onto Dartmoor after sunrise on the Tor, but the weather prophets prophesied bad weather for those parts, and the clouds who mustered out to the west supported their claims. And, so I find myself at Ebbor Gorge. Not that I'm complaining, Ebbor Gorge is a lovely spot, and where I'd usually go after celebrations on the Tor.  For the first part of walk around the gorge edge up onto the high ground I was distracted by the puncture I'd got (which turned out to be a real pisser, and which took me a real age to change), although after I'd put that out of my mind I began to immerse myself in the lush surroundings of the early morning gorge.  The air was morning fresh, all but for the occasional soft whiff of distant smoke, from up here I could see a small plume rising from somewhere in the wooded gorge.  Out over the still bare tree tops I could see across the levels to the tor where I'd watch the sun rise earlier, and what a view.  I stand peeling back time in my mind, trying to imagine what this landscape looked like before the levels were drained, back in prehistory, a vast wetland of open waters, reed beds and the periodic island, of which Glastonbury is the most striking.  You can imagine the Tor would have always have been held in high regard, held in some spiritual significance, it's easy to understand why.  It's a quiet morning in the gorge, the night life is just retiring, whilst the day shift just stirring. There is a sound though,  periodically I could hear music, the repetitive beats dance music, you know, the morning after mellow dance beats. I imagine it's coming from the same place as the smoke. 

I realize I've stood here for quite a while now, lost in thought, my imagination in flight and it's time to move on, head down into the wooded gorge.  Down a rocky pathway I descended through dells of blue and white, carpets of bluebells are complimented by swathes of ramson and wood anemone. 

The gorge is cool, damp and still quite dark, moss and lichen clings to the low hanging branches, moss covers both the trunks and the rocks, making it appear as if they're being consumed by green. It's very similar to the pockets of temperate rainforest you find on the moorland valleys or further west in Devon and Cornwall. Lovely. I continue my descent, going deeper into the gorge, as I do so the smell of smoke gets stronger and the music louder. I've reached the bottom, the ground is more open here, as is the woodland, it's home to some noble trees. I come to a large-ish clearing shaded by mighty trees and with a small brook running along one side, and the source of the smoke and music.  Scattered around the clearing are small groups of folk, one group around the remains of the dying fire, all enjoying the sounds coming from a nice sound system. The remnants of a free party, nice. It's an age since I've attended a free outdoor party, I'm envious, this looks like it was a good one too. What a spot for a party! The folk are friendly, all smiling, constant 'good mornings' and 'how you doings' coming from all quarters. Now, I'm more envious, a good party, and nice people! I greet them all and wish them a happy Beltaine, which is unanimously reciprocated. I smile, wish them good day, wave and move on. This time moving upwards back out of the gorge.  

The path up out of Ebbor is less rocky (in places anyway), less severe and quickly I'm back out of the gorge woodland, in the open and looking out over the levels again. There's much more of Ebbor Gorge to explore, but for today my exploration is over. Another excellent and uplifting Beltaine Ebbor Gorge walk. Still envious of those cheesy quavers, mind!