Walking The Two Moors Way Coast to Coast Wembury to Lynmouth Days 3&4

Two Moors : Day 3, Scorriton to Chagford

Official route: 29km (18miles) in 7-8 hours walking plus breaks. My route: 33.16km in 6hr 48min; elapsed time 10hr 40mins.

‘Hear my Law, O my people…’ Ps 78v1

This has been very much on my mind. When arch-atheist Richard Dawkins is referring to himself as a cultural Christian, the universe seems to have taken a lurch to the left! I think what he means by this is that it has dawned on him that his sense of right and wrong, values, morals and the like, are due to the Christian heritage that has shaped Western, and specifically, English society over centuries into which he was born.

Over breakfast, and later, walking, I wonder about the value of enforced biblical literacy that my generation inherited either at church or via daily scripture readings in school assemblies, or the carols and hymns we sung. We had Christian names, of course. And it was AD and BC, not BCE.

The removal of such structures has ramifications; whether good or bad, I’m not sure. To ponder. And there’s plenty of time to ponder.

Full English breakfast, then exit at 9.02.

Less than 100m down the road after Tradesman’s is the disused Methodist chapel with its foundation stones dating to 1904. It struck me that many of the names adorning the stones were also on the WW1 memorial in the pub. How tragic that just over a decade after opening the church, so many of the young men were not to return. A body blow from which the shattered emotions of the returning injured and those unharmed barely recovered, leaving such an often unspoken wound, scarring the life and faith of many? I haven’t had a moment to write a poem, but this might be a good place to start. To try to catch the witness.

Lovely Holne, a small village, was next and the site of my first navigational error, ending up by Chasegate Farm. Thankfully, a footpath allowed me to rejoin the path. ‘Use your compass’ to check direction was a voice I needed to heed a few times today, including the next stretch after a riverside walk, up to Ash Tor. I caught up with a group of four 70+ on a circular walk, but another error saw them forge ahead as I did two sides of their triangle! Reaching pretty Ponsworthy with its gentle ford, I’m aware that, apart from the salutary experience of these errors, they add time and distance.

A runway horse at Jordan together with another minor map error, drew me up to the high moor above Widecombe in the Moor and a decent lunch break to cool off, remove shoes and socks, and take on water and food. And to text Joel to say that, despite the lower route through Widecombe being appealing due to tiredness and time, the high moor is calling.

Ten minutes later, I set off on the wrong path and find myself descending rapidly down to Widecombe, not on the high moor after all!

…an iced coffee in Widecombe…another moment of bliss

Ah well, at least I’ll see Widecombe, which I had wanted to. I had also been dreaming of a coffee earlier and, sitting outside the art shop having bought an iced coffee at the pub, I mused about the unexpected theme that it’s often the things that go wrong that lead to something better. In this case, an iced coffee in Widecombe. Another moment of bliss.

I decided to follow the lower road beside the East Webburn river instead of climbing back to the moor onto Hamel Down, but, on reaching Natsworthy Manor, the sunshine and the beautiful moor started calling again, so I climbed up to what I thought was Grimspound but turned out to be some way south; the rocks at Broad Barrow…another error.

Walking north along the correct path, I reached a ridge overlooking the huge stone circle I later realised was Grimspound, the site of my fourth or maybe fifth error of the day, then down to the road marked yellow on the map, at Firth Bridge. (It’s now dawning on me to look at the map more frequently, refer to the compass, take in the surroundings, and count steps). Nevertheless, I overshot the unmarked west turn on the road, but quickly turned back to enjoy the sweeping route across the moors until the descent towards Meldon Hill at Chagford.

It was now quite late, so I took a minor road to Chagford Inn to close the day rather than hobble round the official northern loop to Chagford Bridge. It would have been a hobble - my left foot was complaining again.

Weary limbs arrived at Chagford Inn at 7.30pm.

Room, shower, beer, perfectly cooked duck steak, good conversations with other guests in a delightful small beer garden, cognac, and an interesting conversation with a waitress about the origins of cognac from Armenia (!), then bed, and instantly to sleep.

Two Moors : Day 4, Chagford – a rest day

Suitably a Sabbath rest…on a Saturday. The Christian notion of Sunday being the Sabbath is incorrect. Any argument that links the day of resurrection with ‘The Lord’s Day’ reference in the Book of Revelation, thus shifting the Jewish Sabbath from Saturday (strictly speaking sunset on Friday to sunset on Saturday), to Sunday, is pretty thin.

Coming back to the day off in Chagford, this was planned in advance. I felt, correctly it seems, that the body could do with a rest after three days walking, also, to provide time to write up the first three days, and do some washing!

Putting up a washing line across the small bathroom worked well, and various t-shirts were left to dry overnight Friday and through Saturday.

Saturday.

Some writing in the morning, then a wander round Chagford’s shops. A wine shop, called Jaded Palates, beckoned…I wanted to see if they had any Armenian Cognac. No, but the shopkeeper said, ‘Was that a Christian thing?’ - a strange comment I took to mean a reference to monks and brewing. That led on to an extraordinary discussion about ‘Organised religion v Jesus’.

To the Summer Fete

Perfect day for a summer fete!

In the morning, I had written a mini essay about the spiritual state of the nation following on from Ps78v1. All of a sudden we seem to be stretched between Islamist and far left demonstrations calling for a Palestinian State ‘From the River to the Sea’ ie the destruction of Israel, on the one hand, and Tommy Robinson’s flag-waving anti-Islamic, ‘Return to our Christian identity’ marches, on the other.

Into the gap has poured all kinds of beliefs, such as the ones expounded by the shopkeeper who somehow has retained a personal practice of blessing everyone who enters the shop. Her beliefs include the memory of water, astrology, and the Universe.

And next to Jaded Palates, the bakery serving coffee. I settled into some further writing there, sinking a couple of coffees and munching on a couple of cakes before heading to the very traditional Chagford Summer fete. So good to see Splat the Rat and other well-known stalls, a brass band, old cars and so on.

Back for a doze/power-nap/forty winks before a veg pie and red wine for supper, bed, and sleep.