Firstly, ‘Nothing about Dartmoor’ but nevertheless local to Devon.

Something instead about what helps put the ‘GREAT’ into Great Torrington in North Devon; The Great Torrington Cavaliers – and their passion for building spectacular charity bonfires.

Behind the scenes at Trumpton – Great Torrington Commons.

Last night saw the culmination of two years voluntary work go up in towering plumes of smoke – and FIRE.  Beneath one of the best firework displays I have ever seen – the Great Torrington Cavaliers finally set-ablaze their make-believe town of Trumpton – to raise an epic amount of money for the Macmillan Cancer Trust – and the Plough Arts Centre in Great Torrington.

Time’s up for Trumpton. 29th. August 2015

Wow! What a wonder-ful way to end the school summer hoilday season with a BANG!

Bang!

Set to a medley of themes from all the most memorable children’s TV shows from the 1960’s and 70’s – a syncopated fireworks display enthralled the thousands that had paid to come and witness this unmissable event. Hats off to the Great Torrington Cavaliers – you have pulled-it-off once again!  

On the big screen…

The Great Torrington Cavalier’s hilarious remake of Trumpton.

Trumpton ablaze.

Dong! The bell tolls for Trumpton as it is engulfed by flames.

A symbolic phoenix rises from the Trumpton ‘ashes’. What bonfire theme will the Great Torrington Cavaliers come up with in five years time?

“All for one and one for all.” Great Torrington Cavaliers. My family for one – loved your ‘little show!’ THANK YOU.

Convex mirror.  The silver sea off Hartland Point…

where the real world meets the world of myth and magic. Please read on…

‘Thought and Memory’ – Huginn and Muninn above my mantelpiece. Made by ’embroidery artist extraordinaire’ Paulina Bartnik – from Warsaw in Poland. Held in the hand they are unbelievable; hundreds of intricate, minute stitches. Viewed from a short distance one could be fooled into thinking they are real – like taxidermy – only Paulina’s ravens are so much cleverer – they are alive with the magic that she works into her unique pieces. I absolutely love them – they share centre stage in the heart of my home.  Please read on…

(Paulina’s shop – https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/cOnieco)

I was having a lazy Sunday a couple of weeks ago – when a visitor came-a-calling…I was sitting at my computer enjoying my first cup of tea of the day, when suddenly through the open french-window door, I heard the distinctive call of a raven. Hurriedly I got up – and stepped outside into the garden to search for it. I looked skyward in the direction of the raven’s call – but the sun was blinding and I had to shield my eyes; I could hear it but couldn’t locate its whereabouts against the brightness of the midday sky. Moments later – a black silhouette with arrow-shaped tail feathers – flew out of the Sun towards me – it circled above the roof of my house – and our neighbour’s house – before it disappeared into the great blue yonder. I live in the middle of a village not on the edge of a wild moor – and although I regularly see and hear a pair of ravens on my evening walks around the block – I have never had one come calling at my door. It was such an uplifting experience; very spiritual for a raven lover like me.

Sometimes I think that if you believe in something enough – it is possible to draw ‘it’ towards you; it certainly seems that way for me with ravens…

Drawing down Corvus corax.  Please read on…

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At the edge of the world – where a wise-man of Dartmoor lives by the sea…

Wise-man of the Earth – and air and sea…

there is a stretch of awe-inspiring coastline – called, Hartland Point.  As the Corvid flies – Dartmoor is not really that faraway either…

“One for sorrow, two for joy…” One Magpie characteristically poses on a gate on the way to the Point…

and another sits auspiciously atop a dilapidated barn.

On a clear day – the island of Lundy appears so close it feels possible to reach out and touch it…

On the horizon – ‘touchable’ Lundy island.  Word of warning though – don’t lean too far-out and try!

Looking West; the sheer, rugged cliff of Hartland Point dramatically silhouetted against a metallic sea…

Away to the edge of the world and beyond…

Two ravens appeared from out of the blue…(click on image to enlarge – opens in new window)

and alighted on top of the ‘point’ right in-front of me…

Can it really be Odin’s ravens, Huginn and Muninn? And what secrets will they take back from the ‘point’?

That I cannot proclaim to know – but they are definitely telling about something.

Way-marker so you know you have arrived at the ‘point’…

A secret to be told.  A souvenir of my magical visit to the ‘point’ – bought from the lovely beach-hut cafe – where they also sell the most delicious ice creams EVER.

“Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.” Roald Dahl

Addendum –

Got the fridge magnet – and the badge!  In Norse Mythology – Huginn and Muninn are Odin’s clever messenger ravens. Every day they fly-off around the World – and at the end of each day they report back to Odin and tell him news of their travels from far and wide; I wonder what they told of their recce to Hartland Point?

Going with the ‘St. Michael’ flow once again – only this time in the opposite direction, on an unplanned visit to Burrow Mump on the Somerset Levels.

Seen and unseen lines. Heading to Burrow Mump – Somerset Levels.

Burrow Mump. An afternoon of simple pleasures and no entry fee either!

Burrow Mump, rises like a mini Glastonbury Tor out of the Somerset Levels; and like Glastonbury Tor – Brentor on Dartmoor and St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall  – Burrow Mump is also on the St. Michael Alignment. Hence the Dartmoor connection! On a clear day – you can see for miles and miles and miles…in all directions, across a patchwork of green and pleasant land…

However on this day, Saturday 15th. August 2015 – I didn’t cast my eyes beyond the enclosure of the ‘mump’ – preferring to lose myself in the immediacy and beauty of what was right there ‘under my nose’.  With a line from one of my favourite songs by Chris Rea – floating in and out of my head – “I looked for love and found it everywhere…”

Love of the land.  A farmer attending to his sheep after bringing them in from grazing the ‘Mump’…

The fallen remembered here.  For love of king and country – and the freedom enjoyed today…

Being in love. From my perspective – young love remembered…

Love between one man and his dog…

Labour of love.  Honey Bee and the fruits of its labour hanging from a bough ‘over’ the Mump…

My love of winged messengers, especially Ravens, Magpies and Crows…

and golden bough.  Mistletoe hidden in the heart of a ‘Burrow Mump’ Hawthorn tree…

I love the onset of blood-red berries heralding the golden days of late summer…

and the magical weavings and wonders of Mother Nature – and unexpected shafts of light. Spotlight on Incy-Wincy spider in her web – spied in a Hawthorn tree that overhung the utilitarian car park.  Beauty is everywhere – you just have to perceive it.

I love staring into limitless sky…

especially through ancient stone masonry that has stood the test of time and weather.  Uplifting Burrow Mump window “Warm still with the the life of forgotten men who made them” D.H Lawrence. (I love poetry too!)

I love works of art by living artists and makers also. A pendant that I randomly picked up and chose to wear in the rush to get out – made by clay artist, Rose Mary Flint – faraway in the USA. Complete with its alignment of two mini mumps – (Glastonbury and Burrow Mump?) – and a spiral enclosed all within a heart – suddenly it seemed ‘strangely’ in its element held against the mottled ruin of St. Michael’s church. I love serendipitous moments and symbolism…

(https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/RoseMarysClay)

A manifestation of Christ’s love…

witnessed on an otherwise ordinary and functional gatepost.  Gateway to Burrow Mump…

‘Melanie Magpie’ in her element!

and Tom. Doing his own thing.

Olde graffiti. ‘A’ is for Archie…chauffeur for the day. So blessed to be seamlessly ‘rolled along’ by my grown-up child – what goes around comes around.

I love enthusiasts that keep the magic of the past alive.  Happily waiting to crossover the Minehead to Bishop’s Lydeard Heritage Steam Railway line…

passing below the lofty ‘mump’ of Conygar Folly near Dunster Castle – on the way to the seaside…

for an impromptu teatime picnic.  Car with a view; Minehead’s own magnificent ‘mump’…

Archie’s ‘great white shark’ basking in the sunshine on the promenade…

Finally over the top of the ‘mump’ that is Countisbury Hill! Our descent into Lynmouth – then westward over beautiful wild Exmoor through Blackmoor Gate – onward towards day’s end and the comfort of home…

I love going out for the day to somewhere special – but I equally love to come home to my snug, red parlour room and be surrounded by all my lovely things and mementos – and music and warmth… “Homeward Bound – Somerset Levels” original work by Judith Webber.  An Englishwoman’s home is definitely her castle – mump – tor – whatever…I love being in my space with a cup of tea at the ready!

Soundtrack to the day – playing only in my head…

Lyrics to Giverny by Chris Rea.

Deep inside these old dusty walls
There’s a sacred heart, I’d know this garden anywhere
She was warm, she was deep summertime
She was love itself and she was standing there
Standing close, so close to me
I closed my eyes and I could see
Giverny

And in this strange and holy place
I looked for love and found it everywhere
It was what you saw she came to see
Because of you she was standing there
Giverny

Books may burn and rain may fall
But what is here I know will last forever more
Colours change, there are no defines
She was love itself and I thank you for giving me
Giverny.

Where next?

Detail on a map at Dartmouth Steam Railway and River Boat Company.

Another day-trip to the water’s edge; this time (11th. August 2015) to the naval town of Dartmouth – to where the great river Dart flows out to sea, appropriately flanked by two imposing castles. Travelling to Dartmouth by car, train, steam-train and ferry – we enjoyed a lovely afternoon walking around the colourful streets overhung by medieval-style architecture, and browsing around the bustling shops. However, first on my agenda and my sister’s (on holiday from her home in Vienna – with her son Tobias) – was to find quiet escape from the queues and hubbub of the journey, in the peaceful church of St. Saviour’s – just a short walk from disembarkment…

Our Journey began by car to Umberleigh, then by train to Exeter St. David’s – from Exeter to Paignton along the scenic coastal line that includes the restored stretch at Dawlish Warren – then it was all aboard the Dartmouth Steam Railway (toot toot!) to Kingswear, where finally we caught the ferry across the teal-coloured water to Dartmouth.  Between catching our various modes of transport – we participated in the tourist shuffle; queuing is definitely part of the experience especially in August – all good British fun!!!  Although I must admit – my mind often turned to thoughts of striding out over the wild, open moor where the Dart rises and the skylark sings…anyway…

Here’s a collection of photos that capture the sights, sounds and smells of a lovely day in South Devon…

Ferry across the Dart.  Kingswear to Dartmouth…

Just watching the wake…

Five women in a boat…

Rigging singing on the sea breeze…

Eye-catching posters at Paignton Railway Station…

Heading South. Weather-vane above the Paignton ticket office…we spent a long time admiring this!

The tourist shuffle! My sister’s foot just edging over the threshold of the ticket office!

Sun breaking through the clouds over St. Saviour’s tower – heralding our arrival by ferry at ten to two!

Escutcheon to St. Saviour’s; clearly always open from the outside in…

A beautiful etched welcome to St. Saviour’s Church, Dartmouth.

Captain Birdseye! Taking a stroll along the harbour with this handsome, characterful seafarer.

Fantastic houses…

and colourful houses.

Getting up steam on the homeward journey…

The heart of a steam engine on the Paignton to Dartmouth Steam Railway…simply awesome.

Lookie-likies.  Goliaths of the Dartmouth Steam Railway…

Devon Belle.  My Mum who came too. (My sister jokingly commented she looked like the Fat Controller in her navy, red and white outfit!  She ‘borrowed’ the engine driver’s cap from the souvenir shop!!!)

Mother like son…

Tom – the boy who also loves the wind in his hair…

And our travelling companion Chris – who kept us all on time and planned the day.  (Thank you from Sallie, Melanie, Rosie, Tobias and Tom for a really lovely day.)

Entering the Greenway Tunnel; disappearing into the blackness… another day, another adventure…

I can see the sea already! On the way; an auspicious opening in the clouds over the A30 – of a lovely day ahead in Kernow…

Not strictly ‘Something about Dartmoor’ – but the ‘Mount’ is connected by the St. Michael Ley Line. The ley line connects the church of St. Michael de Rupe atop Brentor, Dartmoor – to the island-jewel in the sea – St. Michael’s Mount, Marazion.

A view that I admire daily; Brentor Church Dartmoor. An original oil on board by resident Cornwall artist Ian Pethers. http://www.glenrockstudio.co.uk/

We weren’t the only ones that decided to make a pilgrimage to St. Michael’s Mount on what must have been one of the Mount’s busiest days this year – 6th August 2015. When the sea parted and revealed the granite causeway – a column of pilgrims could be seen wending their way to and from the Mount; a phenomenon in its own right.  It is a wonderful place to be alive and free and count one’s blessings – even if one did have to queue for admission – and take shuffling steps all the way around the castle! Handsome portraits and paintings – beautiful furniture and exquisite medieval stained glass windows are a visual feast for the eyes throughout the tour of the castle and chapel (no flash photography allowed in the castle and chapel) plus the sheer wonderment of the island fortress itself.  Definitely a legend of a place to visit.

Joining the throng at  St. Michael’s Mount – Cornwall.

Brothers. Archie and Tom (my two sons) looking out to sea from inside the castle…

Looks like wind-blown rain – but it’s bubbles in the glass on closer inspection.

‘Just’ a lovely weathered door in Marazion.

We rested here awhile, away from the buzz of the island – and sat on the benches outside the Marazion War Memorial – and enjoyed our ice creams…

and gave quiet thanks to the brothers in arms of Marazion and St. Michael’s Mount for their bravery and sacrifice.

Light overthrows darkness…

Archangel Michael defeating Satan.  Awe-some bronze inside the Mount’s chapel.

Gathered flowers.  Delicate detail from a stained glass window – St. Michael’s Mount.

The lovely Lorelei of St. Michael’s Mount – exquisite stained glass detail.

Soundtrack of our day to St. Michael’s Mount – ‘LORELEY’ by BLACKMORE’S NIGHT plus an interview with insightful duo Ritchie Blackmore and Candice Night. ENJOY.

Addendum…

Spirit of the day. My 50p souvenir fridge magnet bought in one of the Marazion gift shops. It summed up the day; the people jam inside the castle and the traffic jam on the A30 on the way home – thanks boys.

Yesterday – because the water was low enough, we circumnavigated Burrator Reservoir via the ‘beach’!   Apart from the odd patch where the dry surface crust was springy beneath our boots, the going was firm and the views wonderful all the way round…roughly a two hour walk.

Fur Tor, Dartmoor. (Taken from near Great Links and Dunnagoat Tors.)

Like a giant manta ray, a cloud’s shadow settles over Fur Tor – exactly outlining the contour of the tor.

The magic of horse whispering a foal born wild on Dartmoor…and because his coat matched the pattern and colour of the tree’s bark under which we’d met yesterday – I naturally named him – ‘Hawthorn’. He was beautiful.

Four delightful lambs atop a Dartmoor dry stone wall – snapped through a car window!

The Nightingale and the Glow-worm by William Cowper

A Nightingale that all day long
Had cheered the village with his song,
Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
Nor yet when eventide was ended,
Began to feel, as well he might,
The keen demands of appetite;
When looking eagerly around,
He spied, far off upon the ground,
A something shining in the dark,
And knew the glow-worm by his spark;
So stooping down from hawthorn top,
He thought to put him in his crop;
The worm, aware of his intent,
Harangued him thus right eloquent:

‘Did you admire my lamp,’ quoth he,
‘As much as I your minstrelsy,
You would abhor to do me wrong,
As much as I to spoil your song,
For ’twas the self-same power divine
Taught you to sing, and me to shine,
That you with music, I with light,
Might beautify and cheer the night.’
The songster heard his short oration,
And warbling out his approbation,
Released him, as my story tells,
And found a supper somewhere else.

Hence jarring sectaries may learn,
Their real interest to discern:
That brother should not war with brother,
And worry and devour each other,
But sing and shine by sweet consent,
Till life’s poor transient night is spent,
Respecting in each other’s case
The gifts of nature and of grace.

Those Christians best deserve the name,
Who studiously make peace their aim;
Peace, both the duty and the prize
Of him that creeps and him that flies.

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Television off, computer off, phone off – boots on…

Last night I drove myself ‘a million miles away’ and set off to Dartmoor in search of Lampyris noctiluca.  There in the darkness under the gorse and hawthorn trees were several – each with its own beacon of bio-luminescence; my nocturnal date was with female glow-worms.  Early July – I make an annual pilgrimage to a spot where I’m confident I’ll see this natural phenomenon. Each earthbound female emits enough light to attract a winged mate, and soon after mating – once her eggs are laid somewhere dark and safe – her light fades and she dies.  To witness an isolated female glow-worm – and the intensity of her little green lamp – dot like in the blackness and vastness of wild Dartmoor is unmissable – while to see several as I did last night, is simply out of this troubled world.

A truly magical sight to behold.  Dartmoor Glow-worm.

Bio-luminescence. . .Lampyris noctiluca.

Just a stone’s throw away from our parking ‘bay’ on the road to Burrator, at the start of our walk around the reservoir and surrounding area – we came across a fox exposed in tooth and claw; it was a dead fox.   It lay undisturbed in the shade of the Hawthorn grove, befittingly veiled in a tracery of delicate mourning lace of Mother Nature’s own weaving. The fox had probably been hit by a car before daybreak.

While the fox lay ‘sleeping’ – other Dartmoor creatures (including us) were going about their day – and what a beautiful day on Dartmoor it was to drink in views and breathe clean air.  Whether human, bird or beast, life is sweet – and never more acutely than when everything is so vivid…

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Two months on since our last visit to this exact spot and nothing seemingly had been disturbed; the fox still lay ‘sleeping’ – only skin, bones and matted fur remained and a sprinkle of Hawthorn blossom to mark the passage of time.

In memory of a beautiful Dartmoor fox.