Pleasure dome – but you’ve got to get there first!
With longer, warmer days ahead – and the prospect of getting out on the Moor for some ‘proper’ walks – I find myself remembering the joy of one such outing last year…
On the first day of September 2013, the forecast was for glorious sunshine and a complementary breeze; perfect walking weather. So I auspiciously determined that it was the opportune time, before the school holiday ended, to take my son to see the Queen. Fortified by blanket bog, rugged terrain and a vast meandering moat – comprised of several bridgeless streams and rivers, ‘The Queen of the Moor’ presents a challenge to those that wish to pay their respects.
At the end of a long, dry summer though – I was confident that our visit to Fur Tor on Dartmoor, would be firm going…
Where the ‘Little People’ roam too…
The important point to remember when planning a Fur Tor visit – is that her Majesty’s foot soldiers are inactive during the school summer holiday period; it’s a sort of month-long ceasefire – as Fur Tor lies squarely within the Military’s firing range! Live-firing and inclement weather combine to make Fur Tor periodically out of bounds – so one can’t just wander off there whenever the urge strikes! However, on this occasion, conditions were doubly in our favour.
We set off at an unhurried pace from Lanehead car park at precisely 2pm! The immediate ascent to the top of Ger Tor provided a good warm-up exercise – and from there we continued with relative vigour along the length of the Cleave edge to where the Rattlebrook and the Tavy meet below. There we clambered down into the boggy basin, crossed the waters – and then purposefully strode out into the Dartmoor wilderness accompanied only by the clarion call of Corvus corax; The Queen of the Moor’s guardian ravens were seemingly expecting us!
At Tavy Cleave rocks, we’d stopped to view our destination on the far horizon…
From this vantage point, Fur Tor appeared definitely do-able in an afternoon, provided neither one of us lost our footing and made an involuntarily exit into the boulder strewn Cleave below!
At the edge.
I’m always reminded of rousing hymns standing at the Cleave edge, probably because the veil between this world and the next seems perceptively thin there, in more ways than one! ‘How Great Thou Art’ or ‘Jerusalem’ spring to my mind – or my favourite ‘He who Would Valiant Be’.
Tavy Cleave.
The tumult of the Tavy’s own cacophonous song – as it rushes towards its own inevitability – only enhances the sense of awe.
Amicombe Brook near Sandy Ford.
Fur-ther away than it looks…
Bogged down in Pinswell – urgh!
Nearly there…
Onwards and upwards…
Arrival at The Queen of the Moor.
There is just something deeply earthy and primordial about Fur Tor. As you contemplatively sit atop your chosen 360 degree vantage spot, like some meditative Dartmoor pixie – it’s easy to believe there is an otherworldly presence that breathes benevolently beneath the green, domed surface…
With our backs resting against the sun-warmed granite – it felt like we were directly above the pulse of the Moor.
Because of Fur Tor’s isolated position – it has relatively few visitors even in fair weather, so there is never a queue to reach the summit and it is somewhere in this noisy, frenetic world where you can experience exquisite quietness, without the need to journey too far. For any person who’s soul craves a wild haven – it’s a restorative place to be.
Having had no need for map and compass on such a God-given day – we found ourselves lost – but only in a state of reverie – and reverence, in the sheer presence of the Queen of the Moor. As an audience of just two; we had the ‘middle of nowhere’ all to ourselves.
Hello – pleased to meet you.
If you haven’t already fallen under the spell of Old Dartymoor – then ‘it’ will definitely get you at Fur Tor. Remembering my first walk there, I was guided by an intrepid party from the Dartmoor Preservation Association, on one of their annual pilgrimages – during a Rare Window of Sunshine. It was from an easterly direction starting from and returning to Fernworthy Forest – and it was particularly arduous underfoot I recall. It was a humid, rather swampy and somewhat fly-infested initiation to the magic of Fur Tor, but the only thing that I was bitten by that day, was a deep resolve to return.
Factually – at 572 metres, Fur Tor isn’t classified as a mountain – it isn’t even the highest tor on Dartmoor – and its summit certainly can’t be described as being up in the clouds, unless the infamous Dartmoor Fog has descended, but for me it stands head and shoulders above all other Dartmoor tors. After the physical exertion required to reach The Queen of the Moor’s bejewelled crown – a monumental outcrop of glinting granite, that the elements have sculpted into a recognisable face – your arrival will feel like a rush of oxygen-rich air to your senses. While in your head, there’ll be a mini fanfare trumpeting the moment; it’s totally invigorating – and you’ll feel on top of the world!
Although, a glance at your peaty boots – while eating your sweated rations, will remind you of the trudge back to the real world, return routes are variable in all directions, but where you parked your car will hold sway! Whichever pathless route you choose – it promises to be a bit of a slog – but you’ll carry with you, a lighter rucksack, and a profound sense of well-being. 
We ambled back, more or less, from whence we came in a westerly direction – where day’s end advanced to meet us…
Ger Tor…returning home in dimsy light.
Addendum…
Veni, vidi, vici. Tom in 2009 at Devil’s Tor (near the Beardown Man) with Fur Tor in his sights.
