Walking The Two Moors Way Coast to Coast Wembury to Lynmouth Days 7,8, and the last day, Day 9

Two Moors: Day 7, Yeo Mill (Partridge Arms Farm) to Withypool

Official route: 15.8km (9.8miles) in 5 hours walking plus breaks. My route: 12.58km in 2hr35min; elapsed time 3hr13mins.

Ps 92v9 ‘But mine horn shall be exalted like the horn of a unicorn, for I am anointed with fresh oil’

I was 17 when a friend challenged me to read the New Testament. As an agnostic, my arguments, she said correctly, against Christianity lacked the same degree of scrutiny, that I gave unhesitatingly to scientific theories.

One of my principal objections about the Bible was ‘it’s full of contradictions’ – not that I really knew any. And that it was all ‘thees’ and ‘thous’, written in inaccessible old-style English, and therefore, like the church, out of date, out of touch, and irrelevant.

Now, I have come full circle and am revelling in old-English references to unicorns, horns, and oil. And, in case you’re wondering, yes, I did take up my friend’s challenge and started reading the New Testament in a newer translation, the Good News Bible. At the time, I didn’t know there were newer translations. I couldn’t put it down. Honestly. It was captivating.

Anyway, back to verse 9 and the unicorns. I’m not a Hebrew scholar, but unicorns are now translated as wild oxen, but it’s the reference to fresh oil that really caught my eye. In the same way that a car regularly needs an oil change, so do we. Negative thinking, worries, rabbit holes, resistance, and frustrations can all cause a weariness that erodes our normal joyful disposition, which exists quite independent of our circumstances. If so, we need fresh oil. Oil in the bible refers to the Holy Spirit. So I set out today with that ‘Fresh oil, Lord!’ prayer circulating my system.

10.10am

The penultimate day, and after yesterday’s re-routing in the wet and rain forecast for today, I was glad that today’s walk was a mere 15.8km (9.8 miles). I took road routes and cut the distance to 12.58km in 2h35min walking and 3 hours 13 mins elapsed time.

After a relaxed breakfast at 9, I left at 10.10, arriving in Withypool tea rooms at 1.30. Note the wonderfully preserved Shell filling station.

Not long after I arrived, draping my wet jacket and over-trousers over some chairs, the couple I’d met in the tea rooms in Witheridge walked in, and we shared a table and swapped news of navigation, weather, and some personal details, the most significant of which was that they were married only last week, and this walk was their honeymoon! Congratulations shared, we mooted a drink later in the pub.

Withypool Bridge

I met my hosts in the local shop opposite the tea rooms. Having phoned as I had arrived earlier than expected, they, plus four dogs, had made their way down from the house to the local shop to meet me. We walked up to their grand house overlooking the valley leading down to Withypool. I had seen the house whilst walking down the steep hill from Withypool Post.

A flock of sheep were being herded down Withypool hill past Westwater farm by two collies, two shepherds on buggies.

I’d elected to use the roads rather than get soaked feet again; any waterproofing of the boots had been breached. So it was more endurance than enjoyment, a ‘get it done’ attitude.

At the house, I was shown to my room. Minutes later, I was soaking in a hot bath. Perfect.

For supper, a beef casserole followed by strawberries and cream, after which I retreated to my room quite early, suddenly weary and tired. Maybe the penultimate day and anticipation of the final push had taken its toll? Thoughts of walking to and from the pub with uncertain weather receded; I stayed put.

Beautiful view over the moor. I was asleep before 9. Long final day tomorrow.

Two Moors: Day 8, Withypool to Lynmouth

Official route: 28km (17.5miles) in 7 hours walking plus breaks. My route: 28.62km in 5hr27min; elapsed time 7hr 16mins.

The final day.

Awake at 5am and down to DIY breakfast, having packed the extra combat jacket to keep warm and dry.

Mizzle at 5am, clear by 6, rain by 7. Heavy rain intermittently and high gusting wind over the high moor.

6.28am

Again, I took to the roads, ignoring the official route.

Any disappointment at not taking the Two Moors route, billed as the prettiest along the Tarka Trail, was offset by thoughts of reaching Lynmouth and the finishing tape later on.

Due to the even road surface and the weather conditions, this last section proved to be my fastest, averaging 11.27 min/km, with a split of 9.16min/km at some point during the day. This is not a boast: I needed to keep going to stay warm, and my feet suffered from two days of hard road walking. But I think it was a good decision to keep to the roads. I might return in the future to do the final two days’ walks of the official Coast to Coast path when the weather forecast is favourable.

It was pretty foul all day. Driving rain in bursts; huge dark clouds racing over the high moor towards me. Mentally, I divided the walk into two halves: the first half to Simonsbath, the second to Lynmouth.

By the time I reached Simonsbath my t-shirt was damp. A well-placed WC sign coming into Simonsbath meant I could change my shirt and add the large combat fatigue jacket. I decided to put the other, wet jacket over the top. That being shorter, the longer fatigues poked out below, looking like a skirt, but I was past the point of caring about appearance and pushed on.

Boeveys Tea Room, Simonsbath

Exiting Simonsbath, I encountered one last act of kindness before the finish. Boeveys Tearoom welcomed me in, despite being dripping wet, before opening hours. Maybe 8am. Wet jackets over chairs again. A cappuccino and a piping-hot pasty restored my soul.

So, to the final leg.

Remote. Wet. Windy. Exmoor saved its best worst weather for the end.

Pollution here? No!

Seeing the ‘Welcome to Lynmouth’ road sign was a great moment, but the descent from the moor down to the harbour took ages. However, the sun broke through, so I can say that I started the Coast to Coast challenge a week ago with AS in sunshine and ended it in sunshine as well.

My feet were blocks of pain, but the extra jacket had kept me dry; the body might be sore, but the soul was happy.

River Lyn emptying into Lynmouth

I wandered about aimlessly, enjoying the sound of waves crashing against the rocks, and more people than I’d seen for a week before finding the guest house, having a shower and heading out for chicken and mushroom pie, chips and a celebratory pint and brandy (sadly, no cognac available).

Two Moors: Day 9, home

Waking up to the sound of the sea and a broad view over to the bay was a treat.

Next to me at breakfast was an Aussie celebrating his recent retirement by coming over here to do the SW Coastal path – all 650 miles. It’s always good to have one’s own achievements put into perspective. My paltry 7-day hike felt like child’s play!

The journey home was wonderfully uneventful. All public transport connections worked.

A couple of socio/theological podcasts from Joel passed the time and challenged the little grey cells.

9 a.m. us to Barnstable. Train to Exeter St David’s. Train from Exeter to Weston-Super-Mare, and the 125 bus to the bus stop outside my house.

Home by 2.30.

Le finis.

Supplementary Notes and Thanks.

1. WhatsApp texts – thank you to all those who sent texts, it’s always good to hear from friends and family when you’re tackling something solo.

2. Chess – thank you, Jon, for a long-running chess match on Chess.com

3. Encounter Holidays & Luggage Transfer – thank you for organising everything on my behalf. All worked very smoothly. All the hosts and the accommodation were excellent.

4. Strava and Garmin Forerunner watch. I left the charging cable for the watch in Chagford, but my iPhone 7 kept a record using Strava directly, so no data was lost!

5. BBC weather forecasts were pretty well on the money: temp, wind direction, rain. Vital when planning what to include in each day’s rucksack and best route variations from the official Two Moors route.

6. Cicerone 1:25000 map booklet – invaluable, and the Sue Viccars guidebook.

7. My trusty compass – now 40 years old and good as new. Rescued me on a few occasions.

8. Boots – not sure what to say. With Scholl insoles, I suffered no blisters and was comfortable walking. But waterproof they were not. Overall, though, I’d rather be comfortable with no blisters than bone dry and rubbed raw.

9. Satellites and t’internet. The age we live in. True remoteness is unknown unless one leaves one’s mobile at home. Of the above 8 thank yous, 4 required the Internet.

10. Socks, or sox as my sister insists on calling them. I had 4 pairs of thick Merino wool walking socks. By the end, they honked. Perhaps I could have washed two pairs in Chagford and attached them to the rucksack to dry the following day?

11. Navigation – my steep learning curve. I thank God for at least one angelic rescue mission on Day 2.

12. Highlight? Dartmoor, and, in particular, looking down from Hameldown Tor on the impressive Grimspound stone circle, almost 200m in diameter. And the road sign to Lynmouth at the end.

Walking The Two Moors Way Coast to Coast Wembury to Lynmouth Days 5&6

Two Moors : Day 5, Chagford to Morchard Road

Official route: 29km (18miles) in 7-8 hours walking plus breaks. My route: 33.5km in 7hr; elapsed time 9hr30min.

Ps 86-88

‘Preserve my soul, for I am holy’ Ps86v2

Disturbing to think of oneself as ‘holy’. Made me think. Perhaps it’s off-putting due to the risk of confusing ‘holy’ with ‘holier than thou’ and offends our British sense of over-developed modesty? Rather than enjoy the biblical view of holiness that God created us as precious in His sight, and set us apart (the true meaning of ‘holy’) for communion, or relationship with God as our loving heavenly Father, we recoil somewhat from the word holy. I found myself exploring this tension during today’s walk. Jesus’s version of holiness in Himself is almost irresistible - think of the crowds that followed him - and compares favourably with the straitlaced version of holiness we’ve come to associate with Puritans, or the Pharisees.

9.38

I left Chagford armed with a Pepperoni, sandwiches, and orange juice from Spar, and headed off on what should have been a 29km (18 miles) walk, but due to navigational errors, it became 33.5km (21 miles) and took 7 hours walking and 9 hours 30 minutes once stops for lunch etc had been accounted for; another long day.

The weather was perfect: warm, 15C in the shade, maybe 20C in the sun or higher, with a slight cooling breeze in more exposed places from the north.

The first section, to Drewsteignton, was relatively even with the winding path around the Castle Drogo estate providing some elevation.

I listened to Rachel’s latest podcast interview Believing In Young Faith, Series 4 episode 4, (Spotify) with Ellie, a very eloquent 13-year-old member of Youth at Saint’s, Rachel’s church in Hackney, East London. Excellent.

Walking through a wood, with distant church bells calling the faithful, I reached a T-junction with the amusing but unhelpful dual sign pointing east and west labelled as ‘Footpath’. Went along one for about 100m before feeling it wasn’t curving in the right direction and chose the other path, which eventually headed more or less north and eventually picked up a sign to Drew.

A pause in the bus stop in Drew before heading uphill towards Hittisleigh. Above Hittisleigh, a runaway cow sprinted up and down the lane, wild-eyed, and bothered by cars hooting from behind, urging the poor beast to keep moving. I was enjoying my pepperoni and sandwiches on the verge at the time, until the cow decided to run towards me. I stood up to greet my guest. Maybe it was the smell of the pepperoni, but I was very glad not to have to run up the lane with the cow and the hooting cars giving chase. All’s well that ends well.

7pm. Finally, I reached Morchard Road. Car park opposite The Devonshire Dumpling. Phoned for the prearranged lift from Morchard Road to The Old Malt Scoop Inn, Lapford a few miles away and a comfortable upper room up a metal fire escape on the outside of a barn conversion.

In the pub, three old men played pool, a dog wandered around looking for scraps, the owner’s son and girlfriend sat at a table chomping their way through pizzas whilst the owner, mum, flew around from job to job before sitting down for a chat for a few minutes in the armchair by a wood burner.

Steak and ale pie followed by chocolate tart and double cream. What can one say? I expected to lose weight walking long distances; the opposite has been the case.

Mental note: the room is ideally set up for a writer, with a good-sized desk, chair, and power sockets nearby.

Two Moors: Day 6, Morchard Road to Yeo Mill

Official route: 34.5km (21.5miles) in 8-9 hours walking plus breaks. My route: 35.64km in 7hr17min; elapsed time 10hr 10mins.

Generosity, going the extra mile, being helpful, and having time…were all evident from the staff at The Old Malt. I mentioned my craving for fruit during the afternoon: their response was to drive to the local shop and return with apples, satsumas and two duly named ‘thundernuts’, plums of the harder variety. Then, anticipating the long walk to Yeo Mill, the proprietor was up at 6am to prepare sausage and bacon sandwiches for breakfast, and ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch, along with the fruit.

All that enabled me to get walking by 6.44 am according to Strava.

A long walk ahead, 35.64km (22 miles), started with faint drizzle and ended in heavy rain.

The pocket-sized map booklet Two Moors Way, Cicerone, is invaluable for someone like me whose iPhone is too old to download the OS Two Moors app. Nevertheless, it’s easy to be beguiled by footpaths cutting across fields without checking the bearing and lose direction. See below. The official distance is 34.5km, and I know where I lost the extra kilometre, more in fact, as I took a shorter road to Black Dog.

In extremis, needing the loo, I knocked on the front door of a house, to be met again with kindness. I was invited in by a couple renovating their home. Treading over unfinished underfloor heating, I made my way to the loo; a T.O.B. (thing of beauty) with its overhead tank and old-fashioned pull chain. Offered a cup of coffee or tea and toast, I accepted a coffee and sat down with them to put the world to rights and be on my way after a life-saving kind act. Life-saving may be an exaggeration, but the alternative isn’t worth considering.

On to Washford Pine and on up to the small town of Witheridge with its pleasant open town square. Pub not open, but the drop-in centre opposite was open. £1 for a hot chocolate. The centre was fairly basic with a few older folk and me sat around chatting about the new housing changing the village into a town and other local issues. A couple also doing the Two Moors, Coast to Coast, then came looking very professional, with rucksack covers on, walking poles, jackets and hats.

We ended up criss-crossing over the next couple of days.

Off again. The early morning drizzle had ceased. I enjoyed the gentle descent through a tree-lined drive after Toll House Farm, south of Knowlstone.

After Knowlstone, the rain made a comeback, and I made a navigational error trying to cross Owlaborough Moor. A simple error. I followed the dent in the grass rather than checking the bearing and ended up half a mile to the west in long grass. My shoes proved no match for the wet grass, and the squelching from my feet competed with the sound of the rain battering my jacket hood for attention.

Eventually, I resorted to the compass and saw that I was heading west, not north. I turned through the 90 degrees and the map suddenly made more sense! The New Moor Plantation, a wood, was in the correct position!

An old roundhouse used as a cider press

By this time, the paper pages of the map booklet were stuck together, so opening them carefully whilst sheltering under dripping branches was difficult. A mile later, and wetter, I made it to the B3227 and found the eroded sign to the Permissive Path to Two Moors walkers and walked up to the next B-road and a road sign ‘Yeo Mill ½ Mile’. Happiness flooded my soul, and I sang my way for the final half mile to Partridge Arms Farm, to find a welcoming note sellotaped to the front door.

‘John, welcome. Make yourself at home. Help yourself to a drink from the bar and make a note. Your room is…I’ll be back at 7.30. Banger.’

Old furniture, hunting pictures and heads of kills on the wall, shiny brass and beautiful copper articles throughout, all adorn this wonderful house cum bar cum guest house.

‘Banger’ duly appeared. This is a lady with the energy of five men. Tasty veg soup followed by a cold meat salad and cheesecake with cream, all washed down with an Italian red, was a perfect end to a tricky day.

Banger swooped on my saturated boots and took them away to be dried overnight, and I retired to my room. Out like a light, I woke up the following morning.

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.

Walking The Two Moors Way Coast to Coast: Wembury to Lynmouth, 117miles Days 0, 1, and 2

Two Moors: Day 0, travelling to Ivybridge

AS and I depart midafternoon on Wednesday, 27th May 2026, bound for a B&B in Ermington for me, and a shepherd’s hut in Ivybridge for AS.

In the evening, we headed out to The Ship Inn, Ugborough, only to find AS had booked Thursday, not Wednesday – a feature of this travelogue: mistakes, failures, and the like, paving the way for something better.

The ‘something better’ on this occasion was Turtley Corn Mill, Avonwick. Pulling into the car park, we were greeted by a peacock in full display. Two more peacocks and other large birds circulated amongst the guests as we sat down in the evening sunshine outside, with maybe fifty others enjoying good food and wine.

Conversation between two old duffers who’ve known each other for 37 years ebbed and flowed in accordance with a hidden rhythm developed over time, but deepened to include issues of the day, including charitable housing projects in Bristol, due simply to the extra time spent throughout the day.

Two Moors: Day 1, Wembury to Ivybridge

Official route: 26km (16.5miles) in 6 hours walking plus breaks. My route: 21.75km in 4hr 43min; elapsed time 7hr 3mins.

My B&B in Ermington, a few km short of Ivybridge, is a gorgeous detached family home with mature gardens front and back. Idyllic. I’m the sole guest. He golfs, she doesn’t. Amused me that early on in conversation, they passed to me Beryl Cook’s 30 Cakes to Eat Naked, with five nude cartoon figures eating tea and cake around an outdoor table.

AS and I are taxied to Wembury beach and set off at 9.53 on the first leg to Ivybridge, according to Strava. I walked the route two months ago, so map reading wasn’t required, though we did refer to it at times.

The forecast was 100% sun. This would have been true had it not been for one thunderstorm cloud travelling north at speed from the English Channel towards us, despite a ground-level breeze from the north. It took about an hour to reach us and dump its load. The sunshine soon dried our clothes as the storm passed by.

Lunch, at Nelli’s café in Yealmpton, nearly didn’t happen. In attempting to get out of his chair, A’s back locked. A curious sight seeing an old friend, folded over at right angles, like a book, stuck. Fortunately, he recovered quickly and straightened up, but a nasty moment.

A fellow Two Moors traveller, Damian from Leeds, coincided with us at the café. He, of the younger, stronger version of humanity, was carrying his clothes, work-related iPad and camping gear in a rucksack.

The walk across rolling countryside has many scenic spots, looking north to Dartmoor on the horizon as is the white scar of the China Clay excavations – also important for tungsten extraction (thank you, AS, for that piece of info!)

My favourite stretch, though, as before, is the gentle descent from Hollowcombe Cross to Ermington, passing through fields of llamas on a restricted path. They are curious creatures, slightly superior one feels, contemptuous of those with shorter necks.

Evening meal at The Ship, as booked.

SAUSAGES! In THIS weather?

Across the square was a van, John Stevens Decorator and Plumber; my alter ego evidently. The meal was spoilt slightly by a bustling waitress with a fog horn for a voice – an ex-librarian? She did give us something to laugh at with her apparent shock over A’s order of sausages: ‘SAUSAGES! In THIS weather?’ she barked before turning tail and scurrying off to the kitchen.

Two Moors: Day 2, Ivybridge (Ermington) to Scorriton

Official route: 26km (16.5miles) in 6 hours walking plus breaks. My route: 25.97km in 5hr 14min; elapsed time 7hr 50mins.

Each morning I have a set of physical exercises designed to ease up neck, shoulder, back, leg muscles, and I’m reading the Psalms set in the Book of Common Prayer in the old, Authorised, Elizabethan English. If physical exercises are designed to reduce physical stiffness, the Psalms and a set of prayers are limbering-up spiritual exercises for the heart. Occasionally, a verse seems to stand out: today’s morning Psalms: 71 &72

8.04.

On my own for the rest of the expedition.

The uphill slog through Ivybridge up to Dartmoor nearly started poorly. Having reached Ivybridge from Emington, I spotted a path I thought was the continuation of the ErmePlym trail. Something made me hesitate and ask a man out walking his dog. ‘No. That’s the wrong way. I’ve walked the Two Moors, follow me and I’ll direct you to where the Dartmoor begins’. Not for the last time, someone was in the right place at the right time to keep me on the straight and narrow!

The left foot had started to complain, so I took a break just after leaving Ivybridge at the sign for Dartmoor National Park. After a short break, removing my left boot, and drinking some water, it was time to carry on.

Up onto the moor.

There was a tangible sense of leaving one normality behind and joining the sheep, lambs, Dartmoor horses and their foals, cow pats, rabbit droppings, birdsong, and the general scenery of Tors and clouds scudding across the blue sky.

The long walk across miles of moorland on the uneven Erne-Plym trail irritated my Morton’s neuroma, forcing me to stop to remove my left boot more frequently than I expected, but it was a minor hindrance really.

The little, a disused pit, broke the monotony at 647 634, then on to lunch at the foundation stones of buildings at 650 657 before heading East to a point overlooking a beautiful valley with a ribbon of blue water running east to the Avon Dam Reservoir.

Descending sharply to the clapper bridge, I crossed over and found a good place to sink my weary feet in the cold, gurgling stream: bliss.

After that, a second navigational error.

The map showed the path heading NE. I failed to check the bearing along the path I followed and quickly ended up a kilometre or so to the south of my route. But the mistake did give me excellent views of the dam at the far end of the reservoir.

Lesson number one: check direction using a compass! One I would go on to relearn a few times.

I headed north, using the compass to find the path. But failed. Or maybe I didn’t! Later that evening talking to my next host he nodded sagely and said ‘I’ve often rescued walkers from that point; there’s no path there’. Then I made an error born from a befuddled brain and took the only decent path, even though I knew it was in the wrong direction thinking, ‘it must lead somewhere from where I can make a better decision’. I reached a junction of paths and felt quite lost and disoriented.

How you judge the following depends on your faith perspective

I prayed for help.

How you judge the following depends on your faith perspective. I hadn’t met anyone since the man with the dog in Ivybridge. Now, a man with a spotless white t-shirt, carrying a substantial rucksack appeared as if from nowhere, walking towards me from one of the paths. He knew where he was on the map and therefore was able to direct me. If that’s not an answer to prayer, I don’t know what is.

From that point on I followed the Abbotts Way, a bridle path, winding its way down from the moor to the ford near Cross Furges 657 665 and on to Scorriton.

Reaching Scorriton, I was very weary and sat on a shaded bench to cool off before reaching the Tradesman’s Arms at 4pm.

A pint of Dartmoor IPA in the garden chased the blues away. Also sitting in the garden was the chef, whose recommendation of the battered chicken I followed. Normally not a fan of batter, this was a thin version and didn’t dominate the flavour of the chicken.

And a cognac at 9 to finish the day following in the tradition started last year on the Camino with PS and a minor contribution to the pub quiz running at the time.

Evening Psalms: 73,74

The Two Moors Walking Challenge – Post 10: 22nd May, 2026 6 days to go

Route: Winscombe to Weston-Super-Mare, 16.3km 10.3 miles

Maybe the final longish walk before the off!

The forecast was sunny and hot, and an early start works best for me to avoid anything over 20 °C. My personal thermostat is on a permanent ‘sweat’ setting, even in cold weather.

Och well, I set off at 5.44 according to Strava and arrived 2hrs 44mins later, no major incidents. Birdsong was impressive and beautiful; the early birds were flying around, depleting the worm population avidly.

The first walk to Weston-Super-Mare was on 31st March and took 6 hours, with stops and one diversion, and averaged 11.21 min/km. Today the average speed was 10.17min/km, so there’s been some improvement. Whether that translates to following the unfamiliar Two Moors Route next week, time will tell.

The toe made itself known with half a mile to go, so I just pushed on, sat down at the 126 bus stop and took my boot off for an Arhhh moment

Toe and Right Knee report

The toe made itself known with half a mile to go, so I just pushed on, sat down at the 126 bus stop and took my boot off for an Arhhh moment. The right knee, which complained on the last walk to Wells (not recorded here) was fine, but I can feel it’s not 100% later.

Looking ahead to the Two Moors

I don’t think the walking prep could have gone much better, so the weekend will be a combination of packing and inspecting the route, especially days 2 and 3, having done the Day 1 route a few weeks ago, and the rest day, Day 4, should give me time to study the final four days.

Battery Charger

I’d like to listen to some podcasts and take some photos, whilst walking so I’ve bought an extra battery charger, if the iPhone 7 (yes, I know…some would consider this archaic) batteries decide to drain.

Hunch

I’m not expecting the experience to match the Camino for bumping into the same people each day, and probably booked into the same pub, but we’ll see.

Summer has arrived

The temperature in the shade is 23 °C, probably close to 30 °C in the sun. If this continues, I will dissolve into a puddle, but maybe there’ll be a decent breeze on Dartmoor and Exmoor to keep things cooler.

The Two Moors Walking Challenge Post 9: 1st May, 2026

34 days to go.

Route: Winscombe to Weston-Super-Mare, 16.3km 10.3 miles on 28th April
Route: Winscombe to Wells, 26.8km, 16.7 miles on 29th April

Consecutive Days: The previous consecutive days' walks were to W-s-M, totalling 20.6 miles; this week's dose was 28 miles.

Toe Report: As reported last week, the gel insert seems to have contributed to extending the length I can walk before having to stop to remove my left boot and let the toe recover. On the longer walk to Wells, it began to complain just before reaching Wookey Hole, i.e. about 15 miles. So, it’s still a problem, but less so.

‘Remember, you are never lost, just temporarily disoriented’

Getting lost: Forty years ago, (yes, it really was!) I was training for the Mountain Leaders Certificate in Snowdonia. Our small group leader told us, ‘Remember, you are never lost, just temporarily disoriented’. Whether said tongue-in-cheek or seriously, he didn’t elaborate. But this week, I took a wrong turn leaving Cheddar and veered off course away from The West Mendip Way. Trespassing over some fields, I eventually found someone driving a tractor raking the path of a motocross circuit. Kindly, he got me back on a more sensible path. Above Priddy is a very tall radio mast, so, one way or another, it would have been virtually impossible to have been more than temporarily disoriented – and, I have to confess, quite enjoyable to have to find an alternative route.

Spiritual: On the day of the Wells walk, I woke up at 3am, couldn’t get back to sleep, and was on the road by 4.30am, so I was treated initially to predawn darkness, then to a glorious sunrise and lovely countryside. I may have passed a couple of people in Cheddar, but largely it was a solitary walk. The howling wind was against, blustery and strong…strong enough to overturn numerous large bins and scatter small branches. In other words, hard work and relentlessly uphill.

The word I’d use is a deep sense of satisfaction

Then I became ‘temporarily disoriented’ on the Mendips until Priddy, when weariness kicked in.

But a well-placed hotel, coffee, pain-au-chocolate, and loo, restored one’s soul, until the toe began its complaint nearing Wookey Hole. Spiritually? In retrospect, yes. The word I’d use is a deep sense of satisfaction, having reached the rather beautiful city of Wells, slumping in a chair outside a café in the warm sunshine, enjoying a flat white and a generous slice of bread pudding. I’m reminded of Saul/Paul and Elijah, both of whom were restored in spirit with food and drink.

The link between the material and the spiritual is closer than we think. In biological terms, it’s a semipermeable membrane.

The Two Moors Walking Challenge Post 8, 22nd April 2026

34 days to go

Route: Winscombe to Weston-Super-Mare, 16.3km 10.3 miles

Sights: Leaving at 6.30 with sunrise directly behind me creeping over the horizon bathed the world in that warming reddish tinge. After just over 1km, I walked into one of the cider orchards. Two fields juxtaposed: one with zero blossom; the other not only full of blossom but in the sunrise was…I dunno…glorious. As if they were all singing in harmony long, intersecting chords. No, I wasn’t five pints of cider closer to heaven – you would have had to have been there. It was like being caught up in a painting. From there, past Christon and the seemingly unending slog uphill past bluebell woods. Yesterday, three deer stood maybe 50 yards from me, motionless, as I passed. Yesterday, also, views from the ridge over the Somerset Levels and over to Hinkley Point were crystal clear and bathed in morning sunshine. Yesterday was high tide, today, further out, and a stiff walk into a strong breeze whipped up the sand. A shout out to Coffee#1 which has become my oasis at the end of the walk and a place where a flat white and cheesecake can be enjoyed, with left boot off.

Consecutive Days: The Two Moors’ Challenge starts with three consecutive days of walking, starting at Wembury beach, followed by a day off, then four consecutive days finishing in Lynton. This week’s challenge was to experience two consecutive days from Winscombe to Weston, yesterday and today, along the same 10.3 mile route

The 125 and 126 bus:

Yesterday made the 125 well in time from Weston to more or less my drive. Today, I missed the 125 by seconds, but caught the 126 ten minutes later, back by 11.30 after a 6.30 start. If yesterday’s journey was irritating due to someone opening a window and freezing us all to death, plus an Eastern European passenger who thought we’d be entertained by her tinny mobile broadcasting a conversation in her language.

Today the windows were closed, and therefore pleasantly warm; no uninvited incursions on the passengers’ hearing; a mild irritation for the first 5-10 minutes by passenger X, who insisted on eating the foulest-smelling crisps in the Universe. But all was well.

The Toe Report: Since inserting gel soles, I’ve been able to walk further without pain. Also, the pre-blister sore tops of my big toes after yesterday’s had recovered overnight and only caused minor irritation towards the end of this morning’s walk.

Spiritual: Was pondering the place for tradition, firstly as a healthy cultural unifier and secondly, as a trap, a stifling inertia when change is overdue.

The Two Moors Walking Challenge – an after Post #7b, 11th April 2026

45 days to go

Route: Wells to Cheddar to Winscombe – approx. 16.5 miles (26.5 km)I paused Strava without realising for a few miles hence 24.62 on Strava

The plan: Saturday, 11th April

1. Catch the 7.20 126 from across the road to Wells - that worked

2. Find the West Mendip Way - following an excellent website’s directions, nearly missed it, but all OK

3. Try to stay en route ‘til Cheddar, then I know the way back to Winscombe - lost touch with the route the other side of Wookey Hole, road walking instead of footpaths up to Priddy

Pace
It took 7 hours and 5 minutes with a few refuelling, loo, left boot off, and conversation stops. Walking time 4 hours 39 minutes, average pace 11.20 mins per km, or 17.27 min per km overall.

Weather
Classic April. Cool wind. Sunshine with sharp, fast-moving showers, and horizontal hail. Glad I remembered a waterproof jacket and trousers.

Stunning Views
Wells itself is beautiful. Mental note to visit soon, just to mooch about. Wide, wide views from the Mendip ridge overlooking Glastonbury and the Somerset Levels and over to Crook Peak, the Bristol Channel to Wales. Perhaps the most picturesque were the views towards Cheddar, with the blue reservoir just beyond Cheddar.

No Pain, no Gain
I’m well aware that my feet were sore by the time I reached home, and the Two Moors walk requires lengthy walks on consecutive days. More prep required. The stop at Priddy incurred pain of a different sort. My left foot was in pain, so I sat at a pub bench. It was probably about 9.30, the pub opened at 12. The publican came over and said, ‘This is Private land’. I had passed about two or three people in an hour’s walking; there was no one around. Did he need to be so territorial? He was within his rights, I suppose, so I moved on without objecting, but it felt a bit mean. Next stop, a pouring tea from a thermos & peanut and jam sandwich stop, was by a wall out of the wind, on the high ground after Priddy. I’d pulled waterproofs on just in time about 30minutes before, as a vast black cloud emptied its hail on me…personally. So the stop enabled me to hang up the jacket and rousers on the wall to dry in the now sun and wind. After that, the wonderful Coffee at the Hub café in Cheddar, before heading home via the public loos at Axbridge and one more left boot stop on the Strawberry Line.

Spiritual
Perhaps I do have something to say. My spiritual adventures started quite young. Probably about aged 6, at least consciously. My heroes were Jesus and the Pied Piper!! Somehow, I got hold of the notion that if you pray, God answers, so I knelt by my bed one night, put my hands together as I had seen others do, and asked for a Cadillac. In the morning, no Cadillac. That was discouraging.

I mean, what goes through one’s head aged 6? I’ve since bought all the Calvin and Hobbes comics to keep in touch with my 6-year-old self.

Now, at 68, I have about five prayers that are standard, daily prayers. By Priddy, I’d worked my way through those prayers. There is a dull-routine-feel much of the time, akin to brushing one’s teeth: a good thing, but not one that often stirs the blood. Routines like this are like warm-ups, or the hors-d’oeuvre, small talk before a real connection.

Today, after the standard list had been prayed, I thought back to being 6, 7, 8…growing up as a quiet rebel. That silent rebellion had a stubborn, unhelpful streak, but I was beginning to think that this world is not a random, predetermined molecular machine wherein consciousness is pointless, morals are a figment of our imagination, and progress is a foolish delusion. Unexplained customs, traditions, etiquette, and manners, however, drove me insane with the unanswered question, ‘Why’, a characteristic of home and school life. ‘It just is’ never satisfied me…and in the person of Jesus, I felt I saw the same fierce anger, railing against blind obedience towards outward observances as enforced by the Pharisees whilst abandoning the spiritual reasons for the traditions; the heart of the matter overruled by outward conformity as true markers of acceptable behaviour.

‘Course he isn't safe, but he is good. He is not a tame lion’

I’ve been a Christian believer, now for just over 50 years. I’ve seen enough miraculous answers to prayer to overcome my 6-year-old disappointment, and have, bit by bit, discovered the truth behind various customs and traditions – the Why e.g. standing up when an older person comes into the room, or being grateful, or marriage vows and the traditional marriage ceremony…and so, outwardly, I have become quite conformist…but…subject to the call of God.

God is not bound by our traditions and customs. As CS Lewis wrote about Aslan (Jesus, if you hadn’t realised), ‘Course he isn't safe, but he is good. He is not a tame lion’ and so, on this walk, with Aslan, today, I was taken back to those early urges to follow Christ – not the Pied Piper - and learn what it is to become good but not tame. 50 years on, and I am still feeling the love of Christ pulling me closer, Cadillac or no Cadillac.

Last thermos tea & peanut jam sandwich stop

The Two Moors Walking Challenge A before-and-after Post #7a, 8th April 2026

Cheddar Gorge with Cheddar Reservoir in the distance

48 days to go

Route: Wells to Cheddar to Winscombe – approx. 16.5 miles (26.5 km)

The plan: Saturday, 11th April

1. Catch the 7.20 126 from across the road to Wells
2. Find the West Mendip Way
3. Try to stay en route ‘til Cheddar, then I know the way back to Winscombe

That’s the bare bones. An up-and-down gully and gorge route, and the potential for taking wrong turns is considerable.

Reflections:

• The limiting factor does seem to be foot pain, specifically the nerve running under the fourth toe of my left foot. So far, taking a rest every 4K, removing the boot, and waiting seems to work.

• Karrimat isn’t essential but does give a soft surface to sit on if none is available

• Flask of tea – close to essential

• Jan’s Irish fruit cake – Man o Man! This fills the slog with periodic joy!

• Not forgetting my waterproof jacket lowers the stress levels

• Earbuds & podcasts if one wishes to tune out from the gorgeous countryside

Longest Walk:

This will be the longest route so far. If I conk out in Cheddar, there are worse places to grind to a halt.

Weather forecast:

Max temp – 10oC
Max % rain – 32%
SE breeze av. 10mph

The Two Moors Walking Challenge Post #6, 31st March, 2026

Route: Winscombe to Weston Super Mare, 13.6miles (22km)

The route was a mixture of minor roads and footpaths, starting with the local fields and orchards over to Max Mill Lane, then turning right on minor roads to Christon. A stop at the old CofE church included a tremendous view across the valley to Crook Peak.

Just along the road from Christon church was a reclaimed water pump, and this painted stone was laid at its base.

Such unexpected poetic wisdom coincided with listening to R4 podcast In Out Time discussion on Keats (Ode to a Nightingale), who died aged 26 before his popularity and fame became established. An interesting coincidence.

A wrong turn above Christon wasted about 40mins, but extra miles aren’t a bad thing.

Then the long, mostly downhill stretch along an old Roman Road to Upton – a much-needed loo stop and coffee break at Weston General (!) to rest the left foot.

A sea mist rolling in partially obscured Brean Down and created a lovely, hazy picture of the curve of the bay, round to the large hotels at the far end.

The positive atmosphere among beach dog walkers and people wandering along the prom was not matched in the town centre. No one looked relaxed; I didn’t see a single smile. A general air of tension and depression. I could write about particular individuals’ strange behaviour, but would rather end on a more uplifting note.

That note belongs to the 125 bus that delivered me to my drive-in. A nice tradition to say ‘Thank you’ to bus drivers was kept.

The Two Moors Walking Challenge Post #5, 27th March, 2026

From my previous post, it was clear that I had my doubts that the ‘ol legs, fourth toe on left foot, and general weariness would prevent me walking the whole route…and place the whole preparation for the 9-day trek later in May into a box labelled ‘Dunno!’

But Strava lieth not:

• Left Down Thomas (Wembury) at 7.03 arrived in Ivybridge at 3.15pm
• 26.89km in 8 hours 8 mins (5 hours 35 mins moving) averaging 12.29 mins per km.

The disparity between moving and actual ‘elapsed’ time is explained by the 7 breaks taken at fairly regular intervals.

1st: 4km – lovely view over green fields towards Spriddlestone House. Dartmoor on the horizon
2nd: 8km – Brixton. Cuppa tea at Brixton St Mary’s church, followed by loo stop at what had been a café in the guidebook, now a new materials shop.
Toe very painful. OK after rest.
3rd. 12km - Toe again just outside Yealmpton. Longer stop at Rose and Crown. 10.30 slightly ahead of schedule.
4th 16km - Butland Wood. Was 50m away from obscured signpost. Wasted 20 mins traipsing back and forth looking at map and shapes of woods etc.
5th 21.5km Ermington – stopped by River Erme having past llamas on my left and pygmy goats on my right. Liked Ermington.
6th 25.75km Ivybridge Tennis club. Final boots off stop.
7th 26.89km The Bridge café and Watermark

Taxi back to Wembury no need for extra comment. It was a joy.

Spiritual?

You’d think one’s mind would slow down, enter some sort of blissful meditative state, the world and all its troubles retreating? Not the case. Maybe it would be after a few days, but navigating, physical discomfort at times, taking breaks, mind flitting from one thing to another…I can’t report a monk-like retreat. What I can say is that my musings on Luke chapter 15 grew stronger; wondering whether I have enough material, chapter headings, to put together a book, still struggling with the weakness of the Father as a less well travelled route into the parable.

Prayers and ponderings for certain situations and individuals came and went as usual.

And maybe a contentedness with what I’m now calling Phase 3.

Phase 1: settling into Winscombe and Exeter term 1. Phase 2: mostly a long list of practical work on the house and grounds + book launch. Phase 3: TJPII re-write, Dissertation poetry exploration, further practical work including erecting a shed in the back garden & planting veg in the freshly dug plot.

With Dartmoor on the horizon like a gathering grey-brown featureless tsunami

A beautiful route?

Yes! Sustained by thermos tea and fruitcake the route followed the generally well-signposted Erme-Plym trail through lovely open countryside away from all but a few roads and the sound of traffic. With Dartmoor on the horizon like a gathering grey-brown featureless tsunami.

Only one field with curious cows who all followed me for a few minutes before preferring the grass at their feet.

For me, the gentle northerly breeze, kept me cool, with temperatures hovering around 10oC I think. I deal. In May/June I will suffer and sweat more freely…but trousers rather than shorts may be wise against ticks.

The Two Moors Walking Challenge Post #4, 25th March, 2026

Today/Tomorrow: a practice walk for the first section from Wembury beach to Yealmpton (7.5 miles), then Yealmpton to Ivybridge (9 miles) and somehow back…by bus and taxi I suspect.

Today: a practice of inactivity, including writing this blog. Gusty outside. Rooks on kamikaze missions blown off course by sudden gusts. Perhaps they’re enjoying unpredictable flight? It’s high tide at 10am…I might excuse myself from a ‘writing day’ to go and watch the waves pound in on 40mph winds

Tomorrow: I think a normalish start to the day, having packed this evening. Normalish means up around 6 and a quick breakfast. If I can leave by 7, I’ll be pleased. Certainly by 8. Sixteen and a half miles is daunting. I haven’t walked more than ten for…errr…hmm…dunno.

Yealmpton: the temptation to call a halt here will be strong, I suspect. And maybe wise. Or necessary. The guide says 4 hours. So, I should arrive by late morning. Then 4.5 hours to Ivybridge. If I can get there by 5pm, I’ll be chuffed.

Days to go: 62

Spiritual: I’m in Wembury for two principal purposes. Firstly, to write. In fact, to get back to editing and re-writing The Bait Digger II. Secondly, to take a breather from the build-up to the book launch last Saturday, which was great fun.

In this ‘sigh’, this breather, I am aware of a few things on my mind: a sermon to preach later in April, Israel and Iran: as related to the parable of the prodigal son. Palestinian/Israeli poets: a potential direction for next year’s dissertation.

Lastly, I will have been in Winscombe for a year on Sunday. So it’s time to take stock.

Whether any of this occurs to me whilst walking tomorrow, who knows! I might stick the earbuds in, plod along to various podcasts, and leave my meditations for another day.

The Two Moors Walking Challenge – post #3, 25th February 2026

Was this a ‘training walk’ or simply an early morning walk that won’t hurt the prep for the Big One in late May/early June?

I’m not sure it matters. What would matter is not walking.

4th Toe, Left Foot Report

Yesterday’s walk was from home to The Crown and back, trudging through heavy mud at times in glorious sunshine. You should know that the psychosomatic effect of approx. 40 days of rain and 2 days of sun is profound. Physical health has suffered in many, and the dull days have had a hibernating effect on the inner being. Psychobabble? Maybe, but consider how you feel when the sun is up after its long exile, and you are outside…tell me your mood and sense of well-being isn’t turned up a notch?

I digress. Yesterday, after 5 minutes, I was afraid that I’d have to tell my walking partner that I’d have to stop, but the pain faded - thankfully. And today? No problem. No pain. How random.

Shute Tunnel, Shute Hill, Sidcot

This is a beautiful walk, and I was up early enough to avoid all but a few humans and well-trained dogs. It was nature and I. It was blackbirds, robins, crows and jackdaws, unidentified small singing birds balancing on the upper blackened branches, and sheep emerging from the still mist, and, unexpectedly, a few lambs already. Two black ones, and a few very muddy cream versions and their mud-infested mums. And a dead black lamb, left lifeless, lying on the muddy soil; ignored by the others.

It’s beautiful, but Shute Hill is not one that I could run up. Small steps only. Slow. Deep breaths. But the reward, not today in the mist, is a panoramic view across to Crook Peak and over to the run up The Severn towards Portishead, and a lovely view over Winscombe.

Stats

8.92km; 1hr45min; 205m gain; Av heart rate 91; Max 131; 11,302 steps

Spiritual

No comment at the mo. But we’ll go there soon, I’m sure. The pneuma (spirit) as opposed to the psyche (soul) and the soma (body)

Two Moors Challenge post #1 (b)

Walk 1: Winscombe – Axbridge – Cheddar – Axbridge – Winscombe

19th February 2026

A full Cheddar Reservoir

Later, yesterday, perhaps as a result of writing blog 1, and a favourable weather forecast the boots went on and I set off to walk to Cheddar, intending to hop on the 126 for a (free) bus ride home.

In the end, I overshot Cheddar slightly, walked back in from the east, plonked down in a café (needed the loo and to rest my left foot), before retracing my steps through Axbridge to the Strawberry Line tunnel and home.

What was planned to be a 5-mile walk turned into a 10 miler.

The left foot fourth toe was complaining. Had to stop every 30 mins to take boot off, let blood back into toe/nerve and set off again.

Nevertheless, the training is underway.

With the longest walk at 20 miles and walking each day, I’ll need to get the boots on regularly.

Noticed:

• Cheddar reservoir was full and looking good in the sunshine, hence photos. 

• Early signs of spring, some tiny flowers alongside early daffs and snow drops, some fresh leaves poking out.

• Blue plaques in Axbridge…a future photographic collection. Plus a public loo…Hallelujah!

The Two Moors Walking Challenge post #1

Bare Bones: Dartmoor to Exmoor, Wembury to Ivybridge to Scorriton to Chagford to Morchard Road to Yeo Mill to Withypool to Lynmouth. Approx. 115 miles

Dates: Tuesday 26th May to Wednesday 3rd June

Days to go: 96

The truth is, I’m not sure if I can do this. To help, I’ve slotted in a day-off in Chagford, so the walk is chopped up into two halves: 3 days to Chagford, followed by 4 to Lynmouth.

I have two reasons for doubting my ability to complete the challenge. First is a toe problem. Second is my failed attempt to cross the North York Moors a few summers ago.

However, with 96 days to go, I can do some prep. The problems in the North York Moors were (a) the toe (b) heatwave (c) carrying a heavy load…and realising I’m not 25 anymore. This time, I have sherpas (!) in the form of luggage transfers, so will only need to take a daysack on the hikes. That should alleviate undue pressure on neck, shoulders, back and most importantly the fourth toe on my left foot which loves to complain if it’s overworked.

But, man, am I looking forward to this! I’ve been pondering the Two Moors Challenge for a few years and last year’s few days on the Camino has given sufficient push to get it done.

I’m looking forward to the scenery, mist and fog permitting, taking photos, sharing the walk with fellow travellers as on the Camino, and maybe some friends who join in for a day or two, and the full moon that should accompany the evenings and nights. And the physical challenge. The longest day walk (given that I don’t get lost) is 22 miles. The furthest I’ve walked for probably a year is not much more than 5 miles, so I need to put that right.

And, if I may, the spiritual challenge. But more of that in subsequent posts.

Kit: My trusty leather uppers and Vibram soled walking boots are showing signs of aging. A split is developing between sole and upper leather…so…yesterday I purchased a new pair. A lighter variety, more for moors than mountains. Other than that, I think I have sufficient kit.

Today: a cold Northerly, diagonal cold rain, and a dull overcastness that has seemingly deposited itself like a beached whale, over much of the UK refusing to move on, all add together to keep me indoors, two jumpers and a scarf on, until the house decides to pay attention to the central heat.

Limits to Free Speech and the Case of Alaa Abd el-Fatah

When pro-Palestine marchers chant ‘Free Palestine from the River to the Sea’ – they are expressing opposition to the State of Israel and expressing an anti-Zionist viewpoint that calls for the elimination of Israel.

To be clear, they are proposing a one-state solution. Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis, ISIS and all other aligned forces are not seeking peace with Israel and a two-state solution. Their aim is two-fold (i) to eliminate Israel and (ii) form a one-state solution called Palestine, within which Jews would have their rights of self-determination revoked.

The unholy alliance of far-left Marxists – who oppose Israel, believing it to be a colonial outpost of capitalist America, and militant Muslims – who oppose Israel on ideological grounds, is antisemitic and, essentially, genocidal in its political vision.

Now we have the case of Alaa Abd el-Fatah, who has apologised for his hateful antisemitic and anti-British comments. Two main political parties, the Tories and Reform, have called for him to be stripped of his British citizenship and deported.

However his case is resolved, the combination of the pro-Palestinian marches, el-Fatah’s comments, the attack on the synagogue in Manchester, and the conviction of two Muslim men, Walid Saadaoui and Amar Hussein, who planned to kill as many Jewish people as they could in a gun attack in Manchester, is forcing a review of the limits of free speech and citizenship rights. The brutal killing of Jews on Bondi Beach in Australia on December 14th shows how urgent these matters are.

Free speech

Should free speech be curbed if the purpose of the message is to limit the free speech of others, for example, calling for the death of Jews or the police?

Citizenship

And should citizenship rights be withdrawn from those who are clearly promoting hatred of Britain, sedition, and the overthrow of the State

These are questions facing Britain, and, specifically, the Prime Minister, Sir Kier Starmer.

The bible tells us to pray for all those in authority. This is such a time.

Prayer is not a weak response. It is the expression of unease, grief, anger, frustration, and a longing for justice brought before the throne of God, the ultimate authority. We may kneel, or stand, or raise our hands to heaven – all are in the Bible and reflect differing humble attitudes on behalf of the person praying. We may pray in silence or raise our voices.

Prayer is not a one-way street; it’s a dual carriageway. Who put that unease in your heart to cause you to pray? We should not be surprised if God speaks. Jesus said, ‘My sheep know My voice’. Sometimes that voice can be loud, but often it’s a small, quiet voice we hear in our hearts, often accompanied by a sense of peace even in the most trying of circumstances.

He is not far off. He is near. In fact, the Bible teaches that He will be found when we seek Him with all our hearts. Let’s open our hearts and pray.

Master’s in Creative Writing Update: 11.30 on Thursday 11th December.

It’s an odd feeling and amusing.

Odd in that I’ve rarely felt so nervous as a few minutes ago, submitting two essays to Exeter University. The umbilical cord is cut. The two babes: a short story and a self-reflective essay, are winging their electronic way to my tutor’s inbox for her and a.n.other to mark and moderate.

And amusing, as, apart from a huge sense of nervous relief, my second reaction is to tap away on this ageing laptop and write about it! You’d think I’d have reached some sort of saturation point with writing!

Here’s the reality.

A sense of incredible weariness getting off the train yesterday evening. The kind of weariness that forces the surrounding world to recede into the background so far that the funniest joke or most tragic of incidents would barely register a flicker on my face.

Home, and switch into Chemistry A-Level tuition mode. Energy returning after a cuppa and toast. It seems that the brain has compartments. I’m fully awake now, enlivened not by the rules of grammar but by discussing the purpose of nucleophilic addition of hydrogen cyanide in situ to carbonyls with student A.

Bed. Slept through to 5. Up, usual routine followed by a return to the two essays. By 9, I was drowsy and crawled back into bed for an hour straight. Deep sleep.

In the following hour, awake again, finishing touches made before hitting the Submit button and…nervous relief.

Of course, relief is short-lived. I now have a Poetry Collection and a Self-Reflective Essay to submit before its deadline a week tomorrow.

But it’s time to collapse and watch some daytime TV with coffee and dark chocolate

But it’s time to collapse and watch some daytime TV with coffee, dark chocolate, ignoring all claims on my time. Christmas cards and messages…in the In-tray. The mould on the wall upstairs…can grow happily for an hour or so before chemical warfare is unleashed. Shaving? Nah.

That 5K run? Jog on.

MA Creative Writing, Exeter University The Other Module: Prose Week 4: Disaster – bad day at the office

Came away from today befuddled, feeling like a literary dwarf compared with fellow students, and rather downbeat…but that wasn’t the disaster.

I knew I’d be walking into a room of students and staff with heads far fuller than mine with English literature. Although that can leave one daunted, that’s exactly why I’m here…to wear L plates and learn from others.

No, the disaster was simple.

A third of the class uploads work each week. ‘Homework’ for the rest of us is to write critical reviews on their posted work, ready to share our perspectives verbally in the second half of the workshop.

The upload is to an online animal called Padlet. The disaster, as I found out after the lecture, was that I had failed to scroll Padlet right and so missed all but one of the offerings, was lost, had nothing to say, and wanted the earth to open up and swallow hard.

It’s one thing to be in awe of others’ relative ability, but combine that with simple incompetence: that’s my definition of a bad day at the office.

Home now. Sanctuary. Safe space. Last week’s pieces printed out, ready for me to write critiques and catch up in the morning…AND get on with this week’s assignment.

Live and learn, eh? We press on.

Sinatra, where are you when I need you?

Each time I find myself
Flat on my face
I pick myself up and get
Back in the race
That's life

A Tabernacles Trilogy 3. Yom Kippur/Manchester/Hostages

I am well aware that I am writing this blog post just a day short of when Jews around the world celebrate Tabernacles, or Sukkot.

This year, as the world holds its breath over Hamas’s response to the Peace Plan on the negotiating table, and as Jewish eyes are blurred with tears not only with hope but grief, Sukkot 2025 could mark real change in Gaza, Israel, and the whole of the Middle East.

Hope, because no one wants war, conflict, destruction, grief, and hopelessness to set up more than a temporary home in the human heart. And hope, for Israeli’s, that the remaining hostages, alive or dead, will be returned during Sukkot. And hope for some Gazans at least that they can wake up very soon from the nightmare that has been Hamas’s regime.

Grief? Of course. The murderous attack on Yom Kippur in Manchester has chilled the bones of not only Jews but also horrified Britons who have had to clear Jewish blood and the blood of the attacker from their streets; blood spilt days before a credible peace plan might bring the horror of the Israel-Hamas war to a close.

Tabernacles, one of the three main Jewish feasts that Jews were commanded to attend each year, and, therefore, which Jesus would have attended many times, is the final feast in the calendar.

It is no surprise then that many bible commentators link Tabernacles prophetically, despite its evident purpose as a reminder of the temporary tents (tabernacles) that the Jews had to erect in the desert en route from Egypt to the Promised Land, to the end of the world and the final judgement (Rev 21v3).

My comment here is not that this is incorrect, but it falls short of the relevance of Tabernacles in this age and its prophetic significance to the church.

Just as William Seymour and others rediscovered the fulfilment of Pentecost to the church in preaching and receiving the baptism of the Spirit…hence the Pentecostal churches and the Charismatic movement in the 20th Century…so we are on the brink of a rediscovery, this time of Tabernacles.

1. Jesus as a mobile tabernacle
2. Christians as mobile tabernacles
3. Church as mobile tabernacles

Jesus
‘The Word became flesh and tabernacled among us, and we beheld His glory’ John 1v14
‘Jesus said “destroy this temple and I will raise it up after three days”…but He was speaking of the temple of His body’ John 2v19-22
‘the Father in Me does the works’ John 14v11

Christians - individually
‘If anyone loves Me…My father will love him and we will come and make our home with him…the Spirit…will be in you’ John 14v17, 23
‘Do you not know your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit?’ 1 Cor 6v19
‘You are the temple of the living God’ 2Cor6v16

Church
‘You are…a building being fitted together and growing into a holy temple…a dwelling place of God in the Spirit’ Eph 2v21,22
‘We know that if our earthly house, this tabernacle, is destroyed, we have a building from God, not built with hands, eternal in the heavens’ 2 Cor 5v1

The question facing us is: What are the implications for our church experience of the Feast of Tabernacles?

The clue comes from the simple ceremony conducted by Jews from tomorrow onwards for a week. They will meet in specially erected booths, the roofs loosely covered with palm branches and the like, and they meet under these roofs with holes to eat and drink, say prayers, and sing hymns. The holes in the roof mean that it is open to heaven.

It is a picture of the church gathering, the ekklesia (those called by Christ, not a human organisation) bathed in God’s presence (the light through the holes). It is not for one week in the year, but a picture of the potential reality of any church, at any time, anywhere.

Those believers who know the church is the temple of the living God will come with expectation and faith, not simply in a future fulfilment à la Revelation 21v3 ‘Behold the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them and they shall be His people…’ but an expectation and living faith in God’s presence now.

If Tabernacles 2025 is to be remembered as the time when the hostages were returned and the dreadful war in Gaza is brought to a close, the world will breathe a great collective sigh of relief

New Testament churches are places where the kingdom of God has already broken in, where the presence of God is normal, and where each believer is functioning as a priest and a king in training…learning, for example, to only do what they see the Father doing. It is a holy place. It is a place where, metaphorically, man removes his shoes, God is there, and the church moves as He moves. It is an awesome place. We become like Moses before the burning bush, where all our doubts, all our fears, all our past sin has been dealt with to such an extent that referring to our ‘old man’ or our ‘old creation’ is irrelevant…we grow in our understanding that God is fellowshipping with churches full of new creations in Christ. Moses lost his arguments with God at the burning bush, ‘I can’t speak’, or ‘I’m afraid’. It’s a place where we lose all our arguments with God. A holy place.

It is now 7pm on Sunday, 5th October 2025.

Jews around the world will be celebrating Tabernacles from sunset tomorrow, 24 hours from now.

If Tabernacles 2025 is to be remembered as the time when the hostages were returned and the dreadful war in Gaza is brought to a close, the world will breathe a great collective sigh of relief. The rebuilding of broken lives, broken homes, broken politics, broken hopes, and broken dreams can begin.

A Tabernacles Trilogy 1. Our green and pleasant land.

There’s something quite magical and evocative about a warm September afternoon. The air may retain its early morning autumnal chill, the grass, which had turned brown until a week or so ago, is green once more, and leaves are beginning to fall to cover the acorns scattered on the ground.

To top it all, the fields have been invaded by hay bales, which sit peacefully, possessing a proportional beauty somehow pleasing to the eye, awaiting transport to who knows where?

Rarely do we see how they’ve formed; it’s an agricultural conjuring trick. You wake up one morning, go for a walk, and the field that not a week or so ago was knee-high in grass or wheat has been harvested and transformed into bales.

There is a certain peace in a field strewn with bales. It’s difficult to put your finger on it, but there is that ‘Ahh, all is well with the world’ feeling, even if it is not. Forget expensive therapies, find a field with haybales and breathe. The quiet, the peace, the lovely aromas, and the light tan colours have only come about after the mowing, cutting, and baling of a combine harvester. There are no screams, of course, but it’s noisy work separating the grain from the straw and the chaff.

That tearing apart of the useful from the useless or the waste is a picture of the sudden polarisation of our society.

With society at large witnessing the formation of Farage’s Reform Party situated to the right of the Conservative Party, Corbyn’s, Your Party, sitting to the left of the Labour Party, and the radical Islamists, everyday Muslims, and Palestinian supporters shouting ‘Free Palestine From the River to the Sea’, it feels as if Britain’s seams are being stretched and tested as never before.

Add to that Scottish nationalism and the ructions over leaving the EU, and we can view the past few years either as a demonstration of the robustness of our democracy or a threat to its integrity.

So, is it escapism or good sense to find a field and simply enjoy the sight of a good harvest and luxuriate in the warmth of a sunny September afternoon?

the choice between escapism and good sense is a false dichotomy

In Old Testament days, the men of Israel were commanded to travel to Jerusalem three times a year to celebrate three feasts: Passover, Pentecost, and Tabernacles. That’s at least three weeks ‘off work’ per annum, away from work and wars, in addition to the weekly Sabbath.

There’s some wisdom in that, isn’t there?

Tabernacles, or Sukkot, as it’s also called, is right around the corner, sunset on Monday, October 6th and ends at sunset on Monday, October 13th, coinciding with harvest, the end of the agricultural year. Special ‘booths’ are constructed; it might be a plastic corrugated roof covered with palm branches and pampas grass on top to remind Jews of the temporary tents (tabernacles) they constructed on their journey through the desert to the Promised Land. Jews today meet in replica booths under the roof, to eat and drink, recite prayers, and swap news. It’s provides an occasion to remember the past but also a look into the future, as we all do when we take a break.

It is also a call to unity. Jews of all political persuasions meet under the branches, under the roof, in the booth.

I hope you can see what I’m saying?

In church, amongst Christian believers, there has been much talk and many sermons preached about Passover and Pentecost. But we have a deep spiritual need, whether we are Christians or not, to hear the message of Tabernacles, or Sukkot and to meet together under a roof with holes, somewhat open to the heavens, so that we experience a fellowship that transcends political differences and is open to God in heaven, like the light streaming through the roof; not an atheistic socialist utopia of unachievable equality and unity, or a capitalistic freedom that turns a blind eye to the losers, but a deeper note, a reverberation, the call of the Spirit of God. You know it when you hear it.

It's a call to the satisfaction of harvest, a call to completion, a call home, to feet up, to rest, for barriers to collapse, and friendship with neighbours and God to soak into work and world-weary souls.

So, the choice between escapism and good sense is a false dichotomy. To escape, to take time out, to celebrate, to worship, is time well spent; and it is good sense. There are plenty of days to attend to the affairs of the world of work and life.

Go for a drive, maybe. Find a field with hay or straw bales. Go in. See if you don’t go ‘Ahhh’ and relax to your core.