- On 01 Apr 2018
- By admin
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Grey Wethers and Fernworthy
The walk begins uphill. There’s shock of leaving the warmth of the car, as muscles begin working, as feet adjust to the tussock.. Over our left shoulder is The Warren House Inn. We’re looking for history and continuities today. This is the place to start, an Inn that has moved from across the road, kept the same hearth burning across three centuries, has three hares linking continents and millennia. A place in the shared memory of anyone who had a childhood between the war’s end and the Berlin Wall’s fall, sat outside with your bottle and straw as your parents ended the family day out in the warm, dark fug of hops, tobacco and woodsmoke. What would you see if you peered in?
We begin to warm-up, literally and figuratively. It’s blustery and damp cold. The rhythm of walking returns, breathing become more even. As we flush out snipe topping Water Hill the murk lifts a little to reveal snow on the further hill to or north. Coming way from the cover of the plantation we remain exposed to the rain and wind rain and the ground is sodden. Earth and water merge in to one and we realise how dry the ground has been in the autumn.
The Grey Wethers are true to their name. On the saddle of the hill a group of dark ewes are gathered, standing in two neat rings. Stones of course, bronze age or earlier Within the southern group a spring has emerged. The head of the stream has moved up the hill to begin inside the circle. Happy coincidence or a deliberate choice. We can speculate, but those decisions and reasons have been lost to us now, we can only peer in from a distance. Once the ice and glaciers had gone, what were they finding special in this place?
All across the open moor we have been finding pellets. Fur, bone and teeth. There’s little cover bit the plantation is nearby. Are Short-Eared Owl making it’s way across from the trees, and has the colder weather taken them out further?
Dropping off the open moor we come down into the plantation, out of the wind and the thinning rain. A more obviously managed landscape, hiding more and with the bronze age marked with posts. The trees break the wind, but emerging at Fernworthy reservoir the easterly wind stings again. A stretch of road easier yet harder on the feet and then we head back up hill on back on the moor. The wind and rain has eased now as we follow the straight foot worn track up to the cairn. We pause here looking up to Cosdon, and out across Devon to the Blackdowns and a silver light on the horizon.
All that remains is to drop back down to the Inn. No longer needing to peer in, and tobacco smoke long gone, a family room and food boards but still the ever lasting fire we can finish in warmth and comfort.
Looks amazing guys!