Stepping stones

There's a road bridge over the East Dart, though there's no such luxury if you're crossing the West Dart at Dartmeet, here there are stepping stones. Stepping stones which today were barely above the water in places, although if you didn't hesitate too much, moved with focus and determination, it wasn't too sketchy. Not to hesitate too much is the key. Safely across I sat on the far bank and tucked into my lunch. Two walkers approached the stones, from the start they hesitated, put off by the wet stones, after a while they'd made it to the middle, where their confidence faltered, they'd got 'the fear'. I helped by ensuring them that my camera was at the ready to capture any calamity, well, it's good to help.  The walkers were two sisters, after a while one made it across whilst the other had completely lost her confidence, it's easy to do, and when you do it takes focus to get it back. The three of us chatted for a while, when the landed sister asked if I'd mind giving the other sister a hand, 'of course not' I said, 'I'd been unsure whether to ask or not'. Both were clearly experienced walkers and I didn't what to appear condescending or something. Once over the stone which had become the mental barrier, the walker was cool, and after more chatting we were off on our walks again. It's a funny world, I thought how the walkers situation in the river weirdly reflected mine on the bank. The walker had lost her confidence to cross and I'd lost my confidence to help, not being sure of whether it was right to offer. Then I thought how that was reflective of society as a whole, so desperate not to do/say something wrong, that we hesitate, and end up doing nothing. Then I thought, 'I think too much', and tuned back into the moor.

Dartmoor

Dartmoor's been calling me for some time now, always drifting around the peripheries of my mind, popping up in my dreams and thoughts, and over the last week its draw had become intense. What could I do? I had to go. Ever since I first went to Dartmoor over 30 years ago it's had a hold on me. I couldn't tell you the times we've visited or camped in the folds of this magical rugged landscape. Dartmoor is one of the few places in our tiny country that still retains a semblance of its primal wildness, and somewhere we can feel an echo of the connection we once would have shared with the land. Dartmoor is a sacred place to me, steeped in memories too. It was 0830 as I struck out from New Bridge, I'd made good time travelling through two counties before the hurly burly of the day had got going. Now heading up the right bank of the Dart I was excited, although we've walked this section of the Dart countless times we'd never completed the walk from New Bridge and Dartmeet on this side of the river. It was as cool as I'd imagined, discovering the unfamiliar in somewhere familiar always is. I could feel the knots that bind me loosen and fall as a genuinely felt smile broke the jaded expression I currently wear, it feels so good to be here, so energizing. Good energy, natural energy. The walking was immersive, you're in a deeply cut gorge, moss covered rocks and tenacious trees rise above you, the sound of the thundering Dart fills your ears, and clean ionized air fills your lungs. My senses are overwhelmed, and my smile is now fixed. I follow a narrow winding path just above the river, past hidden pools and secret spots. I call it a path although a lot of the time you're required to use something akin to the 'force' to define it. The familiar river looks so different from this bank, there are several long islands above New Bridge and I'd never seen this side of them. The walking was very different from the other bank, as I say, the path was less defined, that is until you reach the halfway point and Luckey Tor when there are many more areas of flat open space. Before I knew it I was approaching Dartmeet with it's ancient clapper bridge and more modern road bridge, and the furthest point of my venture, and my walk half done.