Hoofin' and Footin' It in Lydford

In order to experience the Dartmoor moors first-hand, I needed better transportation than my feet. Enter Ellie, a very willing little horse at Cholwell Farm in Mary Tavy, a few miles south of The Springs. Margaret drove me to the stable and picked me up, and I shared the hour's horseback ride with several other women who came there regularly for lessons and day rides.

We headed straight out from the farmyard onto the moors, where we cantered a few times and mostly walked over the rocky trails. Endless view across the moors, with patches of heather that have yet to flower.

While I was happy to be on a horse again, I was glad this ride was only an hour. My legs felt the workout after many months of not riding Barney last year. My tailbone definitely felt it, too.




The mile and a half walk to Lydford Gorge in the afternoon passed the ruins of Lydford Castle within the village. This centuries-old keep is owned by the National Trust but open to the public without fee or welcome wagon. Just walk up the hill and around the back, and there you are, roaming around the ruins and climbing the steps. Cool.

Had lunch at the Lydford Gorge tearoom (including a mango/orange/cinnamon tea that was astonishingly pink) before heading out to "do the gorge"--£5 for a 3-mile nature loop that's a tame, wide, gravelled path winding along woods at the south and downright hazardous at the north end near Devil's Cauldron.

Here the trail comes right along the river and you're walking on slippery, anywhere-angled layers of rock. Some of the paths have thin pipe handrails. Others don't. Signs definitely warn of the danger, and brochures tell people to wear sensible shoes.

A couple whom I chatted with later in Lydford said that rescue teams have to go in three or four times a year to retrieve someone who's fallen in by a misstep or foolish footwear choices like flip-flops or high heels. I can believe it. My hiking boots saved me from twisted ankles, but sometimes I slipped alarmingly on the smooth wet stone. I kept chanting, "I am a graceful, surefooted mountain goat" to get through. Goofy, but it worked.




While Lydford's is nothing like the Columbia River gorge, the glimpses of river, waterfalls, and greenery were spectacular at that end of the gorge. Waters rush and wind through high narrow channels in miniature rapids that later smooth into sections gentle enough for fish to laze in the current.

Early in the gorge walk, I met a Scottish couple who were trying to take a timed photo of themselves on a bridge by balancing the camera on the railing. I offered to take the shot, and we kept passing each other the rest of the route.



We met again at the very end, Devil's Cauldron, where they offered to take my photo and e-mail it once they got back from holiday in a week or two. We got to chatting a bit.

They live between Glasgow and Edinburgh. Names are Eleanor and Alex. I laughed to myself; the names are very close to ones I've used in Sigil, and are just two of many "hits" I've come across related to the book. Clearly spirit is getting my attention about finishing it.

Walked home via Lydford and paused to talk to a couple having tea on benches in their courtyard. I admired the paint job on their window sashes--the woman had been adding a fresh coat of creamy-yellow paint when I'd passed earlier in the day.

Their big dog, Dudley, a black-and-white long-haired border collie mix, placed his forepaws on the stone wall to ask for pets. The woman was still in her painting apron; the man’s shirt had a fire department emblem--he was involved in many gorge rescues. We talked for the good part of an hour, discussing home maintenance, gorge stories, house prices.

Many attached cottages like those around us were selling at around £230,000 (about US$400,000). The homes are two stories, three very tiny bedrooms upstairs with a galley kitchen and one great room downstairs, small shared courtyard spaces down the front of the housing.

They thought these were fair prices. I gulped. Charming as it is, I marked Lydford off my list of possible places to live. Still looking for a one-story cottage somewhere...