Fenworthy forest

I joined a quiet country road as I headed north towards Soussons down, one of two wooded areas I aimed to cross today. It’s thankfully rare to see litter in Dartmoor, but along the stretch of road near the hamlet of Middle Cator, there was plenty. Most of the plastic flying around seemed to be from agriculture, probably wrapping fodder, but there were also sweet wrappers, a can and, fluttering from a fence post like a really gross pennant, used lavatory paper. It at least vindicated my having brought a rubbish bag and work glove for littler picking (although regrettably my picking claw stayed at home).

On the bright side the narrow, fenced in lane let me get a closer look at some lambs - it’s lambing season, so these cute little bleaty clouds have been showing up all over. A pair of little lambs leapt lithely by, evidently as eager to leave as I was for them to linger. Then it was into the heavily forested Soussons down, which presented a soundscape of singing birds backed by the ethereal whisper of wind passing through the dense pines.

The shady tracks of the forest were a welcome break from the sun, splashing through fords, and abrasion from plants and my clothes had created gaps in my sunscreen and a few patches had begun to burn the previous day. At the far edge of the common, the track began to climb and the trees thinned out leaving space for shaggy haired moorland cows were grazing. About half way up the slope to Bennett’s cross I took some time under a lone tree, that looked like it might be the last for a while; I finished the leftovers from dinner and breakfast to fuel me for more walking ahead.

At Bennett’s cross I rejoin led the ‘two moors way’ for a spell, a route I had left back on Saturday, before heading into Fenworthy forest. Mostly it was a pleasant walk with bluebells and other wild flowers lining much of the lanes and tracks; in the upper part of the forest though the steep tracks had been torn up by heavy, tracked forestry equipment making the footing treacherous and leaving scratchy, entangling debris at frequent intervals. Although the cleared trees gave some good views over the lower part of the forest, the overall visual impression was of the bad guy’s handiwork in some on-the-nose environmentalist fiction, or the Ardennes forest circa Christmas 1944.Baca lagi