Bus to Brent Tor, then walk to Foghanger
My
adventure began on Friday May 11th, and the photo on the
left shows a
view of the turbine site, from the top of Brent TorFrom my walk diary "The walk itself started officially on May 12th, but I had to get down to the start first, and that meant walking down to Barnstaple bus-station first to catch a bus on the Friday afternoon. It was a very hot day. My son David helped me carry my bags down, and I was glad of his help with two heavy rucksacks. As I was taking a video camera along with me, (too much to carry while walking) the plan was to get the second rucksack ferried on from stop to stop (doing a "Cameron", as you might say.)
I caught the five past one bus, a No 86, that goes to Plymouth and stops at Brentor village shortly before Tavistock.. The bus was relatively crowded compared to the way it used to be (thanks I think to the free bus passes that had been introduced in April) and the journey took about two hours.
At Brentor village, I got off at the Memorial, and Chris and Yvonne Burchell were there to meet me. I had met Chris once before, but this was the first time I had met Yvonne. They belong to the WIFLAG group that were fighting the turbine application, and had very kindly offered to put me up for the night. They took me to Brent Tor. The sun was out, and the air was scented with gorse blossom. I had never been to Brent Tor before, although I had heard much about it from my father. It is indeed a magical place, with a terrific atmosphere and charm. We climbed the hill, and looked at the church, and they told me something of its history. There were wonderful views in all directions: not only of distant Dartmoor but also of the adjacent rural countryside, the small fields and hedgerows that are such a feature of the Devon landscape, and were so vivid a green in their spring freshness that the colour almost sang. A cuckoo called from the trees below us.
To the south and east we could see Dartmoor, and Yes Tor. The Yelland Wind farm proposal for three turbines is on a ridge below Yes Tor, so the turbines if built would have been visible. To the north west we thought we could see Launceston on its hill. Marie Hutchings, who lives by the Bradworthy turbines, perhaps 33 miles north of where we stood, had told me that she can see Brent Tor on a clear day, and I strained my eyes in her direction, but the visibility was not good enough. Chris pointed out the shelter belt of trees to the south west, behind which the two Beech Farm turbines would be if they were built. I had said that I wanted to walk from Brent Tor to his house – if possible – and he suggested a route that would go very close to Beech Farm itself.
James Bird, a photographer from the Tavistock Times, met us, and he took some photos of me on the hill, for the Tavistock Newspaper. When he was finished, Chris and Yvonne drove back toFoghanger where they live, and I was left alone – as requested. While the photos were being taken, dark clouds had massed on the horizon, and we had seen lightning, over in the Launceston direction. One thing that does make me nervous is lightning. I always figure that although your chances of being hit by lightning are remote, that is because you don`t normally go outside during the worst storms. It seems sensible to avoid going for walks when the lightning is flashing. I looked towards the west and wondered if the storm was coming my way - but it would have been too much to chicken out right at the beginning of my enterprise, so I resisted the urge to call after Chris and Yvonne as they drove away.
Once they were gone, I felt a sense of peace, and strangely even my nervousness about the lightning dropped away. I was all alone, the road was empty, and I began to walk from Brent Tor to Foghanger, taking tracks and footpaths that went close to Beech Farm and the actual turbine site. The first part of the walk was along a straight road, with trees on one side and quiet views of fields with sheep and lambs. A tractor was working in one field, but otherwise there was no traffic. The road was perhaps a mile long.
Near the end of it, I looked back at Brent Tor. As someone had said to me before, it is iconic – wherever you travel in this part of Devon you will find yourself catching glimpses of it. It isn`t vast, or grand. It is small, and intimate, and fits so beautifully in this countryside, with its small fields and hedgerows. The tractor was crossing the field, perhaps putting out feed for the sheep that were there. Otherwise all was quiet and still, but for the bleating of lambs and the calls of their mothers.
At the cross road, following Chris`s instructions, I turned left through woods, until I found a small road that led down by the shelter belt of trees that would partly conceal the turbines from Brent Tor. It led to Higher Haye Cottages. The trees – some I think were beech – were coming into new leaf, fresh and delicate. Near the end of the trees, I saw a sign that said Beech Farm. A road led into the trees, to the land where the turbines would be if the appeal was won by the owners of the farm.
After the shelter belt, I walked on down a sunken lane. I took photographs but the light wasn`t that good – it was still very hazy. I wished I could capture the essence of this quiet countryside. It spoke to me of all that my walk was about. I could almost have been transported back into my childhood, when I first visited Devon back in the 1950`s. How many people nowadays know what peace means? There are still roads and lanes in the secret parts of Devon where you can walk in peace without having to jump into a hedge each time a car comes by. This lane was one of them. I saw no cars, no people even. The banks were like flower gardens, like Pre-Raphaelite paintings, tapestries of stitchwort, bluebells, primroses, cow parsely, campions, and ferns uncurling. Their colours seemed even more intense than normal in the soft late-afternoon light.
The lane became a track,
that led me through a farmyard. I am always a little nervous taking
footpaths through farmyards – it feels intrusive, and there can be
aggressive dogs to face. But it was such a sleepy place that not even
a dog barked. I saw an open door, and wondered if the farm owners
were inside, having their tea. No one noticed me, until a little
further on, after taking a rough track with a footbridge over a small
stream, a chestnut horse whinnied, and came trotting over to say
hello, over the gate to his field. I said hello back at him, in
horsey language, blowing through my nostrils, as my sister Jane and I
learnt to do when we were children, and great fans of Barbara
Woodhouse`s books, that told you all about how to look after animals.
The path led across fields and back onto the tiny road towards the little hamlet of Foghanger, down in a valley. Drifts of bluebells shimmered on the banks of the road as I approached the hamlet. I will never forget them, it was as if the sky had come down to earth.
Chris and
Yvonne and their three Labrador dogs welcomed me with tea and
biscuits. Yvonne went off to do her her goats and horses, and when
she came back we had supper, a very welcome cottage pie and for
pudding her own recipe "foghanger tart" . Perhaps I should
start collecting recipes as I go along, as well, I thought.
Both Chris and Yvonne are artists, and everywhere in the house there were paintings, mainly Yvonne`s paintings of horses. There was an amazing painting in the bedroom where I slept, of a man on a Lippizaner horse. It was very powerful, almost surrealistic. Chris also showed me photos of their cottage when they first bought it, and told me some interesting details of the history of their hamlet, and house. That night I slept with the window open. It was dark and silent outside, and I slept well, waking to the sound of the dawn chorus."
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