The scrambled eggs at breakfast were a little disappointing (the only tiny complaint I have about the place), but the excellent black pudding made up for that minor deficiency. After breakfast, it was back upstairs to pack - and then finally I was off.
I needn't have worried. The Mill's End Hotel is gorgeous as well, actually with much more architectural character than Prince Hall. It was functioning as a Mill House until the '20s, and the miller's wheel still turns in the back, visible from the restaurant through a large window.
I'm greeted by the proprietor, apparently a "confirmed bachelor," who kindly shows me to the room and puts me to ease with a Grolsch in the very attractive lounge. I sink into a soft-cushioned chair and read the paper. It's very, very relaxing - I'm unwilling and almost unable to move.
The Mill's End Hotel - superb |
The mill wheel still turns |
Farmhouse passed just after setting off |
Dartmoor denizens |
After 45 minutes, I've arrived on an easy track - a road really - skirting an attractive tor, then downhill through a pleasant wood through a gentle drizzle. Then it's out of the wood and up a paved road, across a river and onto the gravel roads through fields of sheep, cows and horses.
Easy path through the wood |
Across the bridge, then Back up to the moor |
Mmmm, dinner! |
Not so tasty, I'll warrant |
The route takes me directly between the main buildings of several working farms, and while they're remarkably picturesque, the inevitable barnyard clutter and smells prevent romanticising the lifestyle.
On of many barns on the path |
Another river crossing |
Now it's just after noon, and I'm back on paved road, but there's very little traffic. Passing an isolated but well cared-for house, an incredibly energetic puppy slithers under her fence and comes to greet me. After playing with her for a minute, I send her back home, and she complies - but a minute later she's running after me to play some more. She's a powerful little bundle of muscle, and if I were invading her yard I bet she wouldn't be so friendly!
My new friend |
The new trekking shoes I got in Salisbury are excellent for trails, but a little too hard for paved road, and after 45 minutes of road walking my feet were starting to hurt. In fact, I was settling into a bit of a bad patch in general, despite the loveliness of the surroundings. I suspected a blood sugar issue, so I stopped for a two-minute rest (yeah, I know, I'm a wimp) and ate my last GU gel from my pack, while contemplating the long incline ahead. I really didn't fancy any climbing just now.
Actually, I did, I just didn't know it. Just beyond the point where I'd stopped lay the path up to Grimspound, which was marked on my map as an important prehistoric site about which I knew nothing. Visiting and viewing neolithic and bronze age sites was one of the primary objectives of my walk, and I'd planned today's route specifically to see what Grimspound was all about. So even though I really didn't want just then to walk halfway up the hill to see it, I knew that it would be lazy and foolish not to.
Well, the effect of getting off the road and onto proper trail - along with that of a quick GU-hit, was immediate, and I suddenly felt much better. So much so, in fact, that I climbed a bit more just for fun, and to get a better view of Grimspound.
And a very nice view it was.
Grimspound |
Grimspound is not a monument as such, but rather a Bronze Age settlement for both humans and livestock. A 150m diameter ring of stones is all that remains of the boundary wall, which was 9 feet thick and 5 feet high, and encloses 4 acres and the remains of 24 buildings. Paving stones placed in the late 19th century make the approach an easy walk rather than a muddy ordeal. Grimspound is the best preserved of the many prehistoric settlements on Dartmoor, and is well worth a visit.
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After enjoying the view from atop the tor, I continued north and east along some lovely trail, completely rejuvenated. After taking the time to examine two Bronze Age hut circles sited next to the downhill path, I took off running for the first time on this trip. With such an inviting, easy downhill it would be a shame not to run it.
The path proceeds down into the valley |
Hut for sale - handyman special |
So I ran - by the wonderfully secluded house and past the disused mineshaft ("Please keep to the path"). Soon the downhill became too steep to run further - I slowed to a walk and soon reached the valley. The trail passed through another picturesque farmyard.
Keeping a close eye on proceedings |
The grass covered building is for storing hot ash, away from the main house |
Both the walking and the routefinding are still easy - I'll remain in the valley for the next couple of miles, and the way is marked with yellow blazes and signs pointing out the "Mariner's Way." This path takes me across streams, through more fields of horses and cows and past yet more ancient farmhouses.
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A medieval-looking stone cross on a gatepost (a "moorcross") catches my eye - it's marked on the map as Leapra Cross, but I can't find any references as to its history.
Leapra Cross |
Through a few more fields and it's time to climb again - and this time the ascent is so steep that the road is marked "unsuitable for motors." About halfway up, it struck me that the sign should have added "and walkers," but deep inside I knew that the effort was doing me good.
"and walkers" |
Coming down off this hill I knew I was on the homestretch - only about 3 miles to go. On the way I headed through the very pretty town of Chagford. At my age, I can certainly see the attractions of living here, but I feel a little sorry for the teenagers I see skateboarding in the town centre - they must get bored in a place like this.
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It's quickly through Chagford and then there's only about a mile to go - through some beautiful riverside forest carpeted with bluebells, and finally to this elegant hotel and the end of my walk.
They're old, infirm and tired now. They complain (quietly of course, and only to each other) about the aubergine, and they're confused by the choices of ice cream for dessert. Vanilla is not on offer, only trendy flavours like basil.
Fatigue brings on melancholy - I felt bad for the bored kids in Chagford, and now I feel for this old couple, these onetime heros. Their time has passed, and they live out their last days in a world with no vanilla ice cream.
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