Evening on The Slapton Line

Elemental beauty 
Personified in the smile
Of the bay;
A ribbon of blue
Fading to pinkish grey;
The hue of the horizon
Giving way to a charcoal
Line - a smudge
Across the canvass
Of the silent sea
Save for the gentle
Rippling at the edge;
Soft roll of shingle
In and out;
In near darkness
Winking lights,
As vessels make their way
Into hidden ports;
Windows alight
From houses
Clinging like clams
To the rocks
Beyond which the luminescence
From the Lighthouse
Shines
White-
A beacon in the dark.


Summer Gone


Golden grasses hang
Suspended in warm air;
Gossamer threads string pearled strands
Across
In beaded chains;
Dew pools form
In grassy hollows.
Swallows have gone.

Blurred edges of the season;
Leaves torn by storm and rain;
Curled and ragged forms
Peppered lawns with
Debris strewn;
The party’s over-
The morning after.

On the brink of change;
Hold as we might to summer days;
We orbit on
Tilting from the sun until
Summer’s gone.


Wild Swimming at Sharrah Pool Dartmoor

The River Dart flows fast through and over granite rock. There are fast flowing rapids and turbulent waterfalls. We approached with more than a bit of a scramble having walked down from Venford Reservoir past the Venford Falls . After crossing the fast flowing stream we got to the River Dart and proceeded down stream . The path clawed the river’s edge and fallen trees caused numerous blockages. Several scrambles ensued and a climb up the rocks to join a higher path. Descending to Sharrah pool was steep but worth all the effort.

The river splits around Long Island

As the river straightens it travels over a set of falls into Sharrah Pool flanked on one side by flat granite rocks and sandy entry points.

This was a fantastic swim as the pool is long and deep. Fizzing and invigorating it so is and after coffee and biscuits before trekking back.

Brilliant way to end the summer.

Big Skies Over the Moor

Light box of the heavens
A Rembrandt sky
Painted and layered
An artist’s eye
Heaven drawn to earth
Held above
Shadows below
Clouds that grow
Flat lines drawn in swathes of grey 
Threaten a warning given this day
Mist shrouds the moor
To the valley floor
Veiled and heavy
The clouds bear down.
A sweep of the brush
A stain of blue
Palette of colour
Transition of hue
Big skies and wide
Stretch across
This Dartmoor fell
Visual storytelling
Lines withheld
Breathtaking views
To hold in the eye
Outstretched hands
Cannot hold this sky .

Moorland Running 11km

Ever since walking this route with friends a few weeks ago, I have been itching to try it as a run. The route takes in a bit of everything: a gentle start through three fields, a gradual ascent up through meadows , woodland , ancient drovers’ tracks up to the moorland gate. Open moorland climbs stretches down through clear paths bordered by bracken and crosses a lovely stream by way of stepping stones. The climb is quite hard going over stones and moorland peat towards a clump of trees on the near horizon which is Glasscombe Corner. Turning there, the route follows a boundary wall. Several streams feed in here and stepping stones are easy. The incline rises over moorland grass and follows an ancient stone row to a burial cist. Reaching Ball Gate the views were amazing towards Shipley Bridge. Running from Ball Gate was exhilarating and fast over stones steeply dropping. The track became a stream and running was effortless over the stones to the grass track a km on. Once through the gate the path followed the wall and gorse and heather combined looked beautiful. Then the route enters a copse and a steep rise out of woodland keeping to the edge of common land until a gate is reached. A steep descent down a green lane makes easy work to reach the lane. It was quite muddy here but it was a fast section . The road at the bottom runs along the contour for a km before descending steeply into the valley. And then the lane crosses the stream and leads into the fields and back to the car.

This was 11km with average pace of 8min per km. Surprisingly, although uneven, it was far gentler on knees compared to road and allowed me to keep the pace up. Trail shoes were a must and Salomon Speed Cross trainers performed well on the stones and uneven moorland terrain. Gortex ensured dry feet throughout even though there was a lot of boggy and wet terrain.

A Walk on the Edge of Moor around Haytor Vale

Sunken lanes 
Protection given
Strength of trees
Anchored and firm
Roar of the wind
High above
Scurrying clouds
The Sun chasers
Bring
Curtained rain
A rainbow sheen

Primeval ferns
Olfactory senses
Stirred
Of woodland spores
Drenched in moorland
Dew
Spongy moss
Clings
To marbled granite
Quartz and feldspar
Flecked with mica
Strength imbued.

Babbling brook
Gurgling stream
Slate-hewn
Ford
Ancient crossing
Dry stone walls
And drover tracks
Hidden from view
Fan like veins
At moorland edge
Hold secrets
Deep in valley floor
And rise through gates
To lush green grass
Bracken deep
Flecked
With gorse and heather
Open skies
And granite tors
Wild and free.

When at low tide

When the gale is roaring and trees are bent, we will often decide to head to the coast. We will pick the beach which faces the prevailing wind to get the full experience . Today did not disappoint, though the tide was way out and the surf blown- out. One brave surfer was somewhere in the foam. Plenty of flotsam and jetsam was in evidence washed upon the shoreline and the spindrift lined the edge of the beach. I set off to look at the rock formations which have amazing striations and look like folds in melted chocolate that has just solidified. The rocks run in lines to the sea forming very narrow channels of pools. The slate cliffs here are dramatic and layered.

With the wind blowing off the sea, there was little shelter except directly under the precarious cliffs; we did not linger long.

The round route takes us up the lush valley behind the beach and into woodland where the sloes have ripened and the the big purple fruits are ripe for the picking.

The cottages come into view juxtaposed against each other, most with thatch ( one newly done) . Agapanthus , sunflowers and crocosmia edge the fronts, an old pump, a stall selling eggs, a plaque telling some village legend and the ancient pub – a quintessential Devon village set back from the sea, sheltered from the prevailing south westerly where vegetable gardens seem untouched by the two nights of storm – a little microclimate exists. As we draw up the steep path to reach the road, the mist is blowing in with fine rain on the wind and once again we face into it and return to the storm.

Running beside the River which is in full flood

Mercurial bubbles of foam 
Twist and rotate
Spinning against the creased surface
Of blackened water
Effervescent as they travel
Downward towards the ocean
Then as I realise I’m travelling
At the same speed
At one weightless as those bubbles of air
On the water surface
My speed: the water speed
The sea 60 mins away
Onward the bubbles dance
Effortlessly over the churning
Waves
This is the river in full flight
Powerful and strong
Driving the current
Channelling the banks
Undercutting rocks
Carving its way
Onwards.
And so I too carve out the distance
Deepen the stride
Dig deep to ascend the hill
Onwards and upwards to home.