If you have an office to yourself, you can play music whenever you like, hang out your smelly running kit only at your own peril, and make phone calls without feeling guilty about disturbing anyone. But sharing your office comes, provided your office mates are nice, with more advantages. Having nice people around is always good, and office mates might function as some emergency helpdesk if you come across thing that don't do what you expect. And they can water your plants when you're away. And office mates are, literally, so close to you they might become very good friends. And I'm lucky with the ladies I share with. Two of them are not in very often, but one is; I've become rather attached to her. And it might even be mutual; she invited me and Hugh over for dinner. And a nice walk on the moors with the dog beforehand.
She had incidentally picked the nicest day of practically the entire spring. We drove up in the sun, drove straight past the house at the first attempt, but found it upon turning back, and were welcomed by her, her husband, and her dog, who immediately grabbed a sock out of somewhere and started to restlessly lug it around by means of appreciation. The children were elsewhere and the cat chooses to stay away from the dog. And after a cup of tea we gave in to the dog's almost unbearable anticipation, and went out.
Nicky lives right next to the moors, in a small village. When I grow up, I want to live that close to natural beauty too! But for now I'll enjoy it with a bit more effort. We walked over a hill, with the dog zig-zagging around us, darting from stick to stick, and enjoying himself immensely. And upon return we had a nice meal while the exhausted dog snored in his basket. If my next job involves office mate I hope that's as good as it is here!
Dartmoor in the evening light
The dog had dropped its stick in the deepest and muddiest puddle in the far surroundings
When I received the new pack there were only two weeks left to my travels to Norway. So it was vital to try it out soon! And to my delight, Hugh wanted to come along. His tent had only seen the northern hemisphere from a cupboard. This was the time to bring it out! So on Friday afternoon I gathered everything (well, almost) I would need in Norway. I wanted to know if the bag could fit all that. And I soon found out it couldn't! Even this pack will need stuff strapped to the outside. Although the manufacturers don't expect that: it doesn't have much possibility for strapping. I'll have to work on that...
The bag with all the kit - still stuff on the outside!
Because of space reasons I decided to leave my sleeping bag liner and my down slippers, but I made sure I still would have the proper amount of weight: I brought two litres of hot water and 3 litres of cold; much more than you would on a snow hike. And on a hike we don't carry a tent each. But then I would have not only the liner and slippers, but also more food with me.
I picked up Hugh, we went shopping (neither of us had enough food in store to cater for the weekend, and perhaps not enough fuel either), parked the car, and off we were! It was a very beautiful day. Sun everywhere! And the pack was heavy (I would later find out it was ~27kg) but it wasn't spoiling the fun.
The bag where it belongs. And lots of sun! Notice, too, the new jacket and new glacier glasses...
Hugh meets a slightly skeptic horse
We walked for two hours and then had lunch. We spent almost an hour sitting in the sun, listening to a stream, and just talking. Very relaxing! And it was extra nice given that one can't take such good spirits for granted in times like these. But we hadn't come for conversation, so we loaded up again and went on. All still went well, although I never had much of a chance to keep up with Hugh. He had brought a full pack as well, for symmetry reasons, but it was much lighter, and even with no difference in luggage I can't keep up. When it went uphill I struggled. And the long stretch through the typical Dartmoor hummocky terrain was hard too. With so much weight on your back your balance is not as good!
Lunch in the sun. Very nice!
We picked a spot next to a stream to camp. It was still early; the sun was setting, but in early February that doesn't mean much. We just looked at the clouds, drinking whiskey, chatting away, until we got hungry enough to start cooking. And after a nice dinner it might only have been 7PM, but it was time for bed. I just tried to take some long exposure time pictures and then I went into my sleeping bag. Nothing like a 12 hour night after lugging such a heavy bag around!
A distant Hugh stands above the valley we chose for spending the night in
Cooking
Bedtime!
Sometimes I woke up that night, and I would hear the rain on the roof of the tent. That didn't bode well! But it sounded like only drizzle when I woke up at 8, and decided it was time to get up. When I emerged out of the tent I found myself in a large cloud of fog. But that didn't spoil the fun; we had breakfast, packed, and set off again, into the mystic-looking landscape. It was most atmospheric! And with less water in my pack I found it easier to keep up with Hugh, who navigated us spotlessly through the thick for, bach to the car. Which, to my sadness, had only one wing mirror left. Not again! No good news for the car, but pack had done its job! It's never very comfortable to carry such weight, but if you have to do it anyway, you might as well do it with a bag like this! I look forward to using it up north!
The next day the weather was quite different.
Moss, fog and naked trees together create a mysterious atmosphere
It was another one of these Sundays; a beautiful sunny day, following a ditto Saturday which was mainly spent in the office. And without really doing it on purpose, we this time walked from a convenient parking lot, along the Plym, to exactly the spot where we had started our walk the week before! It involved some clambering and sloshing through muck, as we walked up along the side of the river where there is only sometimes a path, but that only made it better. And the day after it would be dark and rainy again. Good we got out for a short while...
The starting point
Dewerstone Rock; the most popular local climbing venue
View from Dewerstone Rock (we walked around, mind you!)
A bit over a week ago, it had been a beautiful Saturday, which I, as I explained in a previous post, had spent in the office. There was still more to do, but I also wanted some fresh air. Hugh felt the same. So we had a nice, short, between-work-and-household-obligations walk. Lovely!
When do you find a rope hanging down a cliff, where you can practice your abseiling- and prussicking-back-up skills? During a caving trip. Is that a good time to practice? Maybe not; trips involving rope work tend to take enough time without people going up and down the rope unnecessarily. And if you're practicing something that may hurt you severely if you get it wrong, you had better not feel hurried up by people who want to get underground. Do we have training sessions? Well, yes; there have been two in my time at the caving club, which boils down to less than one a year. So when Hugh wanted practice, I had a rope, and we knew there are probably anchor points in the abandoned Dartmoor quarries, we seized a free Sunday to go and give it a try.
The weather was very Dartmoorish: grey skies and wisps of fog. We walked to the quarry where we had seen the Dutch army train; that had given us the idea there must be anchors to fix your rope to. But imagine our surprise when we got there: the UK army had picked this much more English day to train! The quarry was all rigged, and a score of heavily packed, knackered-looking young men just marched into the quarry. I don't think they'd enjoy it as much as we expected to. They looked like they wanted a hot chocolate and a warm bed.
This encounter didn't faze us; there is another quarry. We went there, and rather soon we found anchors above a cliff! Perfect! So I made a beautiful Y-hang and attached the rope to some of the stakes while Hugh got into his harness. And in the pouring rain he started descending. All went smoothly, although he did notice near the bottom it pays off to try to go down as straight as possible, as otherwise you might find yourself swinging sideways at some point. And he landed in a thistle.
My spiffing rigging.
Rain evidently doesn't stop this man.
Goin' down!
When he was down I hadn't even had the time to put my knee pads on. So he came back up, and then it was my turn. It was a nice descend! I went down slightly straighter, which meant I didn't do any swinging, but of course there was a big thistle where I touched ground as well.
Hugh came down again, and I suggested he might try a change-over, go up a bit, and then do another change-over to come back down again. All very useful practice! Then I went back up, so he could see how I did it; he had a decidedly different technique, and I wondered if mine wasn't more comfortable, but it helps to have seen it.
Hydrologist dwarfed by large quarry
When he came up he decided his own technique was still the best. And then we were hungry and quite wet, so we called it a day, packed up, and walked back to the car. When we walked past the other quarry we could still see the silhouettes of the soldiers against the leaden sky...
Walking back along the water-logged Moors
We went for a nice meal plus pint in the Princetown pub. It had been a good day! And when we drove back our comfort was again accentuated by the silhouettes of the soldiers, also marching in the direction of Princetown, but by my guess not in the direction of a cosy, food-serving pub...
A successful scientist rarely stays put at one place for a long time. Hugh had to travel again, and the day before his departure we thought we'd spend some quality time on Dartmoor. We found an ancient hillfort on the map, where neither of us had been before, so that became our destination. It had (as they do) amazing views!
You can't really tell from this picture it is taken inside an old hillfort, but just take it from me that it is.
On the way back we were walking on a dirt track when suddenly a dark shape appeared in front of us. It was a rather sturdy bull, and he had this "none shall pass" look about him. And he probably just had that all the time, and he may well have been excessively well-meaning, but we didn't chance it and made a tiny little detour when he headed our way. From behind the field boundary we saw him rub against the vegetation and bellow mournfully - maybe he had hoped we would be willing to scratch his itch! Poor sod.
Should one risk this?
Gratuitous picture of thistle
As a bonus we also visited Brentor Church; a church balancing on a plug of basalt. Rumour has it the devil himself strongly objected to this development, and tried his best to sabotage its building, but when the locals invoked the services of Archangel Michael the prince of darkness had to admit
defeat.
Nobody expects the Dutch Navy! That sure is true on a sunny day, which is utilised for a walk on Dartmoor. I thought I'd show Hugh Foggintor Quarry. We took our time getting there; no reason why one should not seek the shelter of an old railway bridge for some reading and basking in the sun. But we reached the quarry anyway; soon we heard that we were not its only visitors. And turning a corner we saw a young man suspended above the quarry floor. He was travelling along a rope that stretched across the quarry. We hadn't seen that one coming! And upon closer approach we found out this was a training exercise by the Dutch Navy. The youngsters were not just crossing the quarry in the air; they were also rock climbing, abseiling into water, swimming, and abseiling face first. And who knows what else. It looked like a lot of fun!
It was very windy that day; we chose this bridge as a calm place for applying sun cream. And while we were at it anyway we also read a bit, sunbathed, and had a sandwich. Very nice!
The path that went underneath the bridge had sustained some damage...
Times are busy, but they shouldn't be too busy to sometimes get some fresh air. So last weekend we seized a sunny afternoon for a nice walk over an old tramway, past some decorative mine relics. Spring is in the air!
The trained eye will easily spot the old tramway here
When I go on a swamphike I bring a waterproof camera. When Maaike went on last month's swamphike she brought no fewer than four cameras, none of which waterproof. It seemed not to have led to loss of camera life! And it did result in some marvellous artistic old school pics. I have no idea what the technical details of these pictures are, but I thought they were so beautiful I wanted to put some on the blog. And Maaike let me! So here is a selection. I hope one agrees they are splendid indeed.
Leaving the country for 4.5 years has no effect whatsoever! At least, if you greet old friends on the railway station that’s what it feels like. The day had come to assemble with six nerds (three physicists, two Earth scientists and a lexicologist count by definition as a bunch of nerds!), have a meal, and get ready for a three day hike on Dartmoor the next day. It was splendid to see them again!
Introducing the team: Roelof!
Erik and Maaike
Henco and Viking
And me!
The first night was spent enjoying English pub cuisine and beer. And catching up. And fitting everybody in my not-so-large house. And the next morning the alarm went off all too early! In order to make the most of the walking day I had proposed the 8.06 train, and with 6 people in need of a shower, coffee, breakfast and some packing before that one can imagine what the effect was. But we made it, and 8.21 we left the train, and entered the rain-soaked outskirts of Ivybridge. Not much later we’d found the southern end of the Two Moors Way.
Five swampy hikers on Ivybridge station
A wet entry to the moors
While still in Ivybridge we met two wet dog-walkers, who were clearly somewhat surprised at our choice of day for our exploits (and expressed that in a profoundly British way!); who could blame them! But upon leaving the town we had Dartmoor for ourselves. Soon we reached the old railway we would follow north. We could just make it out underneath the thick layer of water. It was hilarious! All dripping we sloshed to water up to 15 cm deep and had a blast.
This picture illustrates the day...
After some hours spent walking briskly through the flood we enjoyed a drippy lunch, perceived by the only other Moors visitor we would encounter that day: a very wet mountain biker. We had already covered quite a distance! Hopes were high on managing to reach the Forest Inn at the end of the day. But things would change. From our lunch spot we would leave the railway for a muddy track along, and over, a local stream. And another stream. The landscape was beautiful and the hydrology was on steroids! On the map there was a path going north from there we would take. There wasn’t. But we had to get there anyway.
Erik beholds a stream
Erik finds his destiny as Hansje Brinker
This happens when Hansje withdraws his finger!
We’d been going at speed over the railway. Staggering over the uneven swamp land with plenty of opportunities to sink down to the knee, or further, in the goo, our speed dropped dramatically. Our spirits didn’t, though! Nothing like Erik’s saltless humour to keep one going. And in line with that the rain abated somewhat. Skilfully we negotiated the somewhat featureless terrain, and after quite a while we got sight of Fox tor. Just for the heck of it we went there, and took the opportunity to decide on what to do next. Would we try to make a dash for the pub? It would probably involve more cross-countrying, and we were all tired after a short night and a strenuous marsh, and we had no idea how easy it would be to find a good spot for pitching our tents.
Viking negotiates a swollen stream
The path has vanished, and so has the rain!
We decided against that, and ventured instead to Nun’s Cross Farm. I knew there were good camping spots there. It was even dry, with some sun beams, when we got there. There were people there; we were met by a chap from Cornwall Mountain Rescue who was there with a bunch of kids on a school outing, but we were welcome too. We found a spot at some distance from the boisterous children and pitched our tents. Henco and I, the clean ones of the company, then sought out a water body for a wash, while Viking started dinner.
Henco at a leat near Nun’s Cross
Viking cooks marvellous dinner. Notice the smiles have faded somewhat...
We cooked and ate in the dark, ogled by a large fox who seemed to be hoping for a share in Viking’s culinary achievements. And then we were all too tired to do much more than that. I was in bed by 8PM…
Almost outside the reach of my flash: the visiting fox!
The next morning we woke up under a clear sky. What a difference! Happily we spent hours and hours on a breakfast of endless pancakes and coffee, and had our water bottles for the road refilled by the friendly CMR chap. And we made a plan for the day; nothing too strenuous this time. Largely clad in shorts and T-shirts (it was late October! Blimey!) we set off northward to Princetown. Somewhere along the line Roelof managed to sink down in ankle-deep mud after all, and we rescued an adventurous lady in an electric wheelchair who had done something equivalent and had gotten stuck, and soon we laid our eyes on Princetown. We had walked at least four kilometres, so it was time for a long break at the Plume of Feathers!
Pancakes for breakfast
By the time we’re ready to leave it has become summer…
Looking back at Nun’s Cross Farm
Viking contemplating mud
See the wheelchair aim for the horizon…
Contrasts can be nice. No feeding our tired bodies in the rain, but a proper pub meal, accompanied by a proper pint, after a preposterous breakfast and a leisurely walk, in the sun. Bring it on! And after lunch we went back to some railroad walking; we would follow the well-knowntrack, with a small detour past FoggintorQuarry, to the other side of King’s Tor, where we would do some more cross-countrying.
Nothing like a pub lunch after heavy breakfast and modest amounts of hiking
Foggintor Quarry
Hikers at the edge of Foggintor Quarry
Roelof checks the map next to a gratuitously decorative backlit tree
We came through some very scenic ruined settlement next to a stream; a possible camping place? We walked on to the pub. Which was closed. So we walked back to what we had called Tolkien Copse and settled there anyway. Beautiful! This time not only Henco and me gravitated towards the stream with a towel, but Erik followed. Three out of six isn’t bad! And after Henco’s couscous we went to the pub after all.
View on Merrivale
It’s autumn!
“Tolkien Copse” with tent and tired hiker
Henco cooks dinner
Three out of six clean also means three out of six dirty; when we arrived there still were other guests in the pub, but that quickly changed. Coincidence? Who knows! But we tried a few semi-local ales and were glad. And then we went back to clean our teeth underneath an impressive milky way and called it a day.
Dartmoor Inn, with suspiciously few guests
The next day we woke up underneath a cloudy sky. We now got Dartmoor at its best for a few hours! Seething skies, but no rain. And we managed to top the previous’ day’s breakfast; we added Henco’s dessert, which we had deemed imperfectly timed the previous night. It was chocolate fondue! Unfortunately, they had forgotten to read the instructions, and the recipe required cream they hadn’t brought. This all resulted in a slightly unsightly brown blob in a cracked pot, but the idea was splendid!
Viking tries to save the chocolate fondue
When we walked off we started again on the railroad, and followed it until we reached the bridge from nowhere to nowhere. I thought it might be a good place for a group photo! I had, however, underestimated both the height of the walls obstructing view on the targets of the photo, and the time it would take to run up and add myself to the tableau vivant. It wasn’t much of a success. We tried again on top of the bridge; that was better!
Intrepid travellers
The failed group portrait on the bridge
The slightly more successful group portrait on the bridge
We then went off-road again; there was a line of Tors to be explored. Unfortunately Dartmoor became more typical on the way, and while we got wetter the view shrunk to a few tens of metres visibility. Oh well! We skipped the last Tor and dived into the woods of Croft’s Copse. Which are quite dense. Or in other words: impenetrable. Only after some chanceless bush-whacking which left Henco and Roelof covered in rustic layers of dead pine needles did we find a path, which we followed through the mossy woods.
Vanishing views from Sharpitor
Another check on the map in the rain
Roelof in a coat of pine needles, which would all end up in my bedroom
We had a last drippy lunch near Burrator Reservoir, and then we just took the quickest way to Yelverton. It had been enough fun! Happily we reached the Rock Inn and descended upon the beverages on offer, once again displeasing unsuspecting locals with our rich odour. It had been a good trip. And while we indulged in even more pints and pub food, and then the excellent services of the local bus services, we concluded we’d had three quite different hiking days with very varied landscapes and, indeed, quite different meteorological conditions. It had been all good!
Last waterlogged lunch
Walking along the yet another leat
The final group photo
Ominous-looking bovine at the path; he’s drooling heavily, but my wet camera doesn’t manage to capture that
The final meal at the Rock Inn (notice, once again, the suspicious absence of other guests)
And after a last night of freeing Roelof of his Ardbegh and watching Bottom (Henco’s sideburn look reminded me of Ade Edmondson!) my cherished guests once again departed. And when I had dealt with the havoc five guests in a small house had wreaked, including kilos of pine needles and half Roelof’s wardrobe, and the discovery of a hitchhiking tick, it was time to get ready for a visit to Durham, and get back to academic life. But with an extra stash of good memories! We won’t forget this swamphike anywhere soon…
This blog started as a tool to keep my Dutch friends informed on my whereabouts when I moved abroad. It quickly also became an external memory for my own use. It largely failed as a stage for discussions on whatever is worth discussing. And it has become a way of sharing my scientific knowledge with a lay audience. And who knows, it could become even more! And whatever it is you are looking for among all this: welcome.
