Monday May15th - the second part of the walk, Holsworthy to Bradworthy

"Ivan had told me that there was a photo of the start in the Western Morning News, so in Holsworthy I went into the local supermarket and picked one up. I stopped briefly for a cup of tea in a small cafe, used the public toilets by the bus-stop and the church, then went on, towards Bradworthy.

From Holsworthy to Bradworthy the road was much busier, and so not very pleasant. I had another seven miles to or so to go. Now and then the sun came out and lit up the landscape. I saw pylons marching across the fields. They are not atractive either. Like turbines, they make me think of the Tripods in John Christopher`s science fiction books. It was the worst part of the walk. It became grey again. I passed through Chillaton, which is what I would call a main-road village. It had a lot of new bungalows and wasn`t particularly attractive, although to be fair it may be much nicer if you live there. Perhaps the people who live there love their village too.

With about four miles to go I met Ivan and Diane in their car, coming away from Bradworthy. They had dropped off my rucksack at Marie`s. They said they had seen me in Holsworthy as well, as they drove through, although I hadn`t spotted them. It was nice seeing a friendly face. As I had become tireder I had been feeling a little vulnerable somehow, feeling more alone on the busier main road then I ever did in the quieter countryside.

The last four miles I was getting tired, but not too badly. I was walking up one of those hills that I don`t like so much – a long slow drag of a rise. I had expected to see the turbines from a long way away, but it wasn`t until I crested a hill with three miles to go that they came into view (the hill itself had blocked them from view)

Seeing the turbines gave me something to think about, and I forgot my tiredness. Although I don`t like them I can in fact understand that some people might do so. If it was just a question of these there being the only ones in Devon (just as Hinckley Point is the only nuclear power station in the South West of England) then it might not be so bad, but we could easily end up with 350 of them in Devon. I kept reminding myself that these ones were smallish, only 260ft high. The ones proposed for Wheeler`s cross, on the other side of Bradworthy, are 410 ft high.

Finally I turned off onto the quieter road towards Forrest Moor and Marie`s – it was such a great relief to be away from the traffic, although one car did come by as I approached a cross-roads, and it paused beside me. It was Sarah Payne, who lives in Bradworthy and had come down to Brent Tor for the start. “Hi” she said, “would you like a lift for the last bit?” I thanked her but said no, I only had two miles to go, and wanted to complete the walk.

There was quite a strong wind and it was noisy in itself. As I approached the turbines I couldn`t hear that much noise from them, but passing by I heard the distinct whooshing of the blades. I stopped at the gateway to the site and looked at them, across a distance of about half a mile ?. They were smooth, and white, and alien. It was very hard to grasp their size, because they made the trees beside them look like shrubs. The nacelles reminded me of Concorde, they pointed towards me like pointed beaks . They were not hideous. I didn`t like them, but then I don`t like all Barbara Hepworth`s sculptures, so that an aesthetic judgement is in part a matter of taste. In 2007 I was taken by a friend to a wonderful mountain in Scotland, where a massive sculpture by Henry Moore sits on a hillside overlooking a valley. It was sublime, magnificent, and very moving... It was rough, like a weather-worn boulder and it seemed to have been made for that place, to fit it as a glove fits a hand. It was special, and unique. I would not want to see it on every hill-side, it would lose its impact.

These Bradworthy turbines are not sculptures, but if they were the only ones they would at least be interesting. I don`t think even the most ardent supporter could have said that they fitted into the landscape (unless they were paid by the developers). They were just too big, and totally out of scale with their surroundings. But, I will be honest, it was in some ways exciting to see them, simply because there were no others in Devon... yet

Back in 2004 I had visited Bradworthy with a friend, and seen a bungalow which I had presumed was Marie`s, so I hadnt checked to find out where she lived as well as I should have done. Marie had become quite famous when the turbines were first proposed. She is a widow, and had lived in her house for many years, with a lovely open view, looking towards Dartmoor in the South. As I said earlier, on a clear day she could even see Brent Tor. Her house was on a very quiet road, her life was peaceful until the turbines came along,

The Bradworthy turbines would be the first big turbines in Devon, and there was a lot of opposition to the plan. Marie`s plight was made much of, and she constantly interviewed by the Press and TV. A television company even took her over to Germany, to see how people lived with turbines there (they have thousands of them, and they do make people`s lives miserable).

But, despite all the opposition....insert story here... the developers won, and the turbines were buit, in 2004. There was nothing Marie could do about it. When she heard about my walk, Marie offered to put me up in her house. It was immensely kind of her – she didnt know me – and it gave me the opportunity to actually sleep in a house close by some turbines, to experience what it would be like to live near them.

I left the gateway, and walked on. I suddenly felt very tired, and glad that my walk was nearly over. I longed to sit down, and have a cup of tea. The bungalow was just around the corner. Marie had spoken modestly about the accommodation she was offering, and I had assured her I would be happy with anythng, but I have to say that my heart sank a little as I saw it. The garden was unkempt, the paintwork shabby, the whole place had an air of neglect about it. I went up the steps to the door and knocked. There was no answer. I looked through a window, and realised it was an empty house. Was I glad I had a mobile phone with me now!

Marie has two dogs – Sprocket/ spaniels Sue and Paris, Sue`s son. Sue had recently had puppies, that were out in the shed. Marie`s bungalow was very nice, with thick stone walls and big windows looking over the valley. I could see at once that she had had a beautirful view. Maybe not the grandest view in the world – on the scale that the landscape experts at Public inquiries into wind farms use – but if it had been your view you have loved it with all your heart. Now it is a turbine view. You can still see it, but your eye is drawn remorcelessly to the three turbines on the hill opposite.

I had noticed that one of them wasn`t moving and mentioned this to Marie. “That`s always happening,” she said. “They send someone out most days to see if they can fix it.”

“Where from?” I asked, thinking of the “local jobs” that are always talked about by wind-farm developers. She didnt know, but it was quite a way away, perhaps Plymouth. I wondered about the C02 emissions the van made as it came over.

Marie showed me my room, a large one with a double bed. When I had put my belongings in there, and changed from my shorts into some joggers, she made me a cup of tea, and I sat with her in a very comfy leather armchair to watch the news."