Having ascertained that there is a regular bus service from the road near our site at Lydford, we opt to go and visit Tavistock, a Dartmoor town with some quaint features. The heatwave has continued apace and, having reached the bus stop [an achievement in itself] I’m glad to see there’s a shelter. Inside the stone shelter there are two windows, which is fancy, but no proper seating- only one of those perching planks. This strikes me as odd.
Although the shelter is on a steep bank, when the bus turns up [on time!], the lowered entrance is in the exact position level with it, which is impressive. I/m starting to notice these things.
The bus winds through the villages and up over some of the moor before getting to Tavistock. We get off at what looks like the centre, opposite the church. Here, most of the buildings are grey stone, including a huge, posh hotel. Across the road there’s a market entrance, flanked by a beautiful plant stall, which I peruse while Husband queues up for an ice cream.
The market is impressive, some outside and a lot inside a vast, stone market hall. I’m taken with the hat stall [I love a hat] and Husband [in the manner of husbands] is drawn to the tools, where he buys some screws for a van job. We wander a bit more until the hip protests, then Husband leaves me on a bench to explore a bit more until the bus comes, although there’s not a huge lot more to Tavistock.
The cab to the pub is booked. At the appointed time, we go to the site gate and it’s there- with a lady driver who turns out to be very lovely. When we chat about my dodgy hip she confesses to have had a replacement hip joint and assures me that ‘I would never regret it’ even though I haven’t actually been offered a new hip.
The pub, [The Dartmoor Inn] is lovely and rustic and has a great menu. We’ve allowed two hours and, sure enough, our lady driver is there to collect us. It’s a family firm, with her husband and son also taxi drivers.
On day two we’re going to Lydford Gorge, which is just up the road but we’ll still need the bus, which can drop us at one of the two entrances; one for the waterfall and one for the ‘Devil’s Cauldron’. We’re heading first to the waterfall and I’ll need to ascertain how difficult the walk down is. Having chatted to the National Trust lady I determine that I can get down and up, although Husband remains sceptical.
There’s a small cafe at the entrance, where we’d expected to get lunch. The only offerins, however are sandwiches or a pasty. We get pasties and sit outside on a rickety bench [it’s still very hot] where I share my pasty with a scruffy robin.
We set off down the slope. And inevitably, we get so far and it begins to be clear it will be too challenging for dodgy hips. Goodness! This is the easier of the two walks! We sit and have a conflab, with Husband urging me to abort and finally convincing me. I pass him my camera and prepare to go back up, which is a little easier than the descent. It’s bitterly disappointing…
Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com
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