It is the middle of half term, 18th February. The forecast is for snow and so naturally the four fit and healthy members of the party head off to Dartmoor. The fifth member is recovering from his knee operation.
We pack our rucksacks with our water bladders, and suitable packed lunch items (including peanuts for energy) and a packet of Schmackos for Charlie. Going on past experience there is no point in lugging dog food around as generally he isn’t interested during a walk.
We are going to complete a 10-mile walk which Adam has had experience of several times before through school, so we are confident we can safely complete it without getting lost. We head off to Okehampton and park in the car park between Simmons Park and Okehampton College, and set off on our way through the park, up the hill and over the A30. We are now on Dartmoor.
The weather is rather dull and drizzly with a lot of low cloud.
We have already stopped several times for Alice to adjust her clothes, her walking poles, have something to eat … I am beginning to despair that we will ever complete this walk, never mind Offa’s Dyke.
Eventually we reach the edge of the military firing range. The red flag is flying. There is a very helpful man in a hut who checks our route and confirms that we are able to continue our walk.
The low cloud has thickened to a light fog.
We trudge along the lane which continues to climb. Adam seems unsure where the turning is, but eventually comes across a track he recognises, which we duly turn along. The track follows a stream which falls quite rapidly and I am sure is very pretty in clearer conditions.
It has started to sleet.
We continue along the track, imagining how beautiful the surrounding countryside must be if only you could see it.
The sleet has stopped but the fog is now very thick.
I am glad we are following a well defined track as it is not obvious which direction we need to go in. It is now one o’clock and Alice is hungry (I guess the kitkat and the peanuts have now worn off). We start looking for somewhere suitable to stop for our picnic but this proves rather difficult due to the remote location we are in and the fog preventing us from seeing very far. Eventually we settle for a hummock and Adam spreads his waterproof rucksack cover on the ground and sits down, ready to get his lunch out. A water bowl is filled for Charlie to take a drink.
Slowly we become aware that we are not alone…
A group of Dartmoor ponies has decided to join us for lunch. We are surrounded and they close in, nosing at us and our packs, and also Charlie’s water bowl! Charlie is most perturbed and tries to sniff their bottoms, from which we try our utmost to deter him – we do not want to have to call Mountain Rescue for a dog with broken ribs! It is very soon apparent that lunching amid a lot of greedy ponies is far from the best idea and so we decide to move on.
Luckily the ponies do not follow us – they are content to lie in wait ready to ambush the next unsuspecting tourists.
After about a mile, we begin to see some ominous shapes looming through the fog – is it more ponies, ready to snatch our sandwiches? No, merely gorse bushes, scattered thinly on the moor. We find another hummock and wait a few minutes – no ponies, so we are safe. Lunch is unpacked, the soup in our flasks barely warm. Charlie proves us wrong and is ravenous; he eats the whole packet of Schmackos in seconds and then makes very light work of our crusts.
Very soon we realise that it is freezing cold, so we pack up and move on. The rest has chilled us to our bones and it is now hard work to keep going.
We reach a crossroads. Adam stops and stares and wonders which path we should take. It is now quite apparent to the rest of the party that he doesn’t, in fact, know this walk as well as we thought he did and we re-christen him “Annoying Adam the CrapNav”. Adam then admits that he has tried to take us along the walk in the reverse direction to that he is used to, as he thought that the start of the walk the other way round is harder! We all agree it is best to just turn around and go back the way we came.
It is now snowing heavily.
The flakes are big and are settling. I am getting a little anxious that the snow will settle deeply and obliterate the track we are following. Imagine the shame of having to call Mountain Rescue on our first outing (and probably finding that we are within half a mile of civilisation)! We try to hurry but Alice is so cold (and tired) that she has slowed right down and is not very happy.
We trudge along, Charlie turning white along his left flank. In time, we reach the road and heave a sigh of relief. We stop for a brief rest and a group hug (mentally if not physically – it is not easy with rucksacks) and then discover we have lost the dog. We call and call to no avail, so Adam climbs to the top of the hill to the right – ensuring us he will not lose sight of the track – and calls him again. Eventually Charlie appears; he is looking very pleased with himself. Hmmm.
The snow has stopped (hurrah).
With the party complete again, we trudge on. After what seems an eternity, we reach the edge of the firing range, from where it is only about 20 minutes back to the car. As we did not manage to do the walk we had set out to do, we decide that we have actually walked about 8 miles, which is not bad for our first attempt. Obviously we need to improve on our navigation though.