After a fairly arduous and uncomfortable second flight where they brought us dinner at 3.00 in the morning, we arrived in Bishkek. The process of passing through the airport took less than fifteen minutes, which is pretty remarkable.

Alex was there to meet us and escort us out of the air conditioned airport into the wall of heat outside. The Mercury was touching 38C.

The journey from the airport to Bishkek takes about forty minutes passing flat fields of farmland on either side. What could hardly be seen was the wall of snow capped mountains to the south, indistinct through the heat haze.

Having checked into Asia Mountains Hotel 1, breakfasted and rested briefly, we met up with Alex for a briefing where he took us through some of the logistics of the trip. Then we ventured out into town, first to visit a market. There we were tempted by the nuts and dried fruits, which were nothing like the ones we buy at home. I’m not particularly fond of apricots but the ones I tried were delicious, so much so I bought 1/2 a kilo and a similar weight of cashew nuts. The women running these stalls were very friendly, as you would expect, and allowed us to taste samples. Broad beans, dried and salted were particularly moorish. Sandie bought some of those.

Continuing through the market we found ourselves in the meet section, which turned out not to be as gruesome as I thought. I have seen much worse. The only thing I found slightly off putting was the pervading odour of raw flesh. The most fascinating thing we saw were the chopping blocks which were made out of sections of tree trunk, hollowed and pitted from years of use. It was the only thing I saw which made me question hygiene; how do you make sure that it is clean from one day to the next?

The meat was concentrated into halls, one of which was dedicated solely to horse meat. I found the offal a bit off putting.

Leaving  the market behind, we headed off to a restaurant for lunch. It was, by now, gone three in the afternoon but as our body clocks were out of sync it really did not matter. The menu was a picture book with brief written descriptions to help you choose. I decided to play safe and go for a tomato and onion salad and a chicken Caesar salad. I had forgotten about the use of fennel with everything. It does enhance a meal. All very secure and not brave at all when you consider I could have had horse rectum! The two pints of Arpa beer also went down very well.

The contrast between the air-conditioned comfort of the restaurant and the outside world was phenomenal as we went for a brief walk around the heart of the city, sticking as much as we could to the avenues of trees shading us from the fierce sun. We took in various statues of Lenin, Engels and Marx. The more I experience of this city, the more I like it. I think there have been noticeable improvements since my first visit in 2012.

Bishkek is an incredibly green city with huge swathes of woodland offering respite from the summer heat. They also give shelter in the extremely cold winters. It is a colourful city with huge flower beds full of brightly coloured floral displays. It is so colourful because it is all fed by a simple series of irrigation channels bringing water from the mountains to the south. This colour helps also to break up the monolithic austerity of some of the Soviet era buildings. In amongst the trees are fairground rides for children and others with a daring disposition.

Back at the hotel there was just time for some kit sorting, another nap, before dinner at 8.00. Nobody was really that hungry, having had such a late lunch but, as it was delicious, we ate it all. Soon after, bed called for a much deserved and needed night’s sleep.

Leaving Bishkek, we headed east along the highway that runs parallel to the border with Kazakhstan, and, for 800m, entered it. All the time there was a chain of snow capped mountains to the south. After some distance we turned south and began to climb into the mountains, stopping for lunch ridiculously early at 11.00am. Despite not feeling particularly hungry, I ate it all.

We had noticed so far during the journey that Mike had been taking lots of pictures through the window of the minibus. It was difficult, if not impossible, to take them without telegraph poles in the foreground. Some of the backgrounds, which we assumed were the main subject of his pictures, were a little hazy and indistinct in the heat haze. Then we realised that Mike was probably, actually photographing the poles. We began to believe that he, having kept it secret from us for so long, was a world renowned expert on telegraph poles and he was gathering evidence for his much anticipated book, ‘Telegraph Poles of the World’! This was confirmed when we caught him photographing trees in order to assess their telegraph pole potential!

We eventually reached Lake Issy Kul, the second largest mountain lake in the world, behind Lake Titicaca. It is 178km long, 50km wide and over 600m deep at its deepest point. Half a dozen rivers flow into the lake but none flow out, making its waters slightly saline.

Following the southern shore we came across numerous resorts, many of which looked as if they were work in progress. Local holiday makers were enjoying the hot sunshine and the cooling waters but it was noticeable that it was mainly men and children who were in the water.

At one point we stopped to visit the fairy canyon, a feature of red, orange and yellow rock thrust up vertically into the air. Its exposure to wind and rain has created a number of interesting shapes that cannot help but inspire your imagination.

Soon before we reached the end of the lake we turned south into the Jety-Oguz Gorge. This was a narrowing Valley with red rock on either side and pine forested mountains. Down the middle of it rushed a mountain river of snow meltwater. Stopping by a particularly impressive wall of red rock, illuminated brilliantly by the sun, we climbed up to a view point to see them much better. These rocky outcrops were he Seven Bulls.

While we were there we were spotted by the local entrepreneurs who came running towards us, each with an eagle on their hand. As they ran the eagle spread their wings for balance. They were beautiful creatures, not hooded so they were aware of us all the time. The request was 600 Son for a photo. None of us were inspired to part with cash, not wishing to condone such treatment of such stunning birds. £7 was a hugely inflated price when fuel is less than 50p/litre and a pint of beer £1.

A few miles up the gorge we reached our campsite. The sky had been darkening all the time we were travelling up the gorge. Lightning and thunder tumbled around the mountain tops. As we started to put up our tents the rain started and for a while it was a little unpleasant. A strong wind accompanied the rain, trying to rip the tents from our grasp before we could secure them to the ground. Fortunately it did not last long and we were able to make ourselves relatively comfortable.

In the evening we huddled around a floor cloth of food in the mess tent. Soon afterwards we all retired to our tents for an early night and were tucked up easily by 9.00pm. I woke at midnight feeling I had had a good night’s sleep and struggled to go off again. The rushing river nearby did not help.

I was up quite early in the morning and ready for the off. A lot of our attention had been spent on reducing the weight of our kit for this section of the trip. This was our last chance to offload kit we didn’t need to be kept safe in the minibus. Out target was to get it down to 7-8kg. Not easy when you are used to taking the kitchen sink. After many attempts we managed to whittle our kit down to the right specifications so that our porters did not have too much to carry in addition to all the kitchen equipment and tents.

We left camp at 8.15 and headed up the Djety-Oguz Gorge. It was beautiful alpine scenery with rocky sides to the valley inhabited by very tall, narrow pines. As we climbed the head of the valley appeared, a wall of white mountain. There ahead of us was Karakol Peak 5218m, the highest peak in the region. Glaciers tumbled down its precipitous faces.

After about 6km we turned into a side valley that narrowed as we climbed gently up it. As we turned a corner another wall of rock and ice greeted us at the head of the valley. This was a series of unarmed peaks a little over 4000m. We were going to camp beneath this impressive wall at the foot of the Telety Pass.

Shortly after an early lunch the skies darkened again, the thunder tumbled and this was soon followed by rain and hail. Fortunately we were prepared for it, seeing it before it arrived. It did mean that the rest of the walk into camp was less enjoyable but by the time we arrived at 1.30, the rain had eased and the warm sun that followed soon dried anything that was wet.

What to do for the rest of the day? Simon and I went to explore the head of the valley where a waterfall and cascade descended adjacent to each other over the head wall from the ice and snow above.

I began to feel that over recent years we have lost some of the exploratory elements of my trips. It was great to be on a journey, camping wild among the mountains and having both the time and the energy to explore off the beaten track. This was great and the fact we caught sight of a couple of marmots was a bonus.

A couple of concerns niggled at the back of my mind. Chris was not travelling very well and as this was the easiest of the four days, it worried me. I carried her rucksack for part of the journey but she seemed to be struggling with her breathing. It doesn’t help that she also had a slight stomach problem. Sandie, who came out with a tweaked knee, has tweaked it again. She has some pain and it has swollen up. My worry is that it is a 750m steep climb up to the Telety Pass tomorrow, followed by a 1000m descent. Still, we have all day.

The Telety Pass proved quite taxing. Chris was feeling better when she woke up, so decided she was able to give it a go. I insisted on carrying her rucksack, as well as my own, in order to give her a better chance.

Fortified with semolina and raisins for breakfast, we set off at about 8.15. We immediately started the climb from camp up to the first shoulder. Chris and I started at the back, knowing we were going to be slow. Despite our slowness it was rewarding to look down on camp and see what we had achieved in a relatively short time. From the shoulder the gradient lessened and we were walking through the most perfect alpine meadow with a colourful display of blues, purples, yellows, oranges and whites. Included in the whites was the eidlweis.

Crossing the river there was another steep section that took us to another shoulder that led into a rocky bowl with a final steep section up to the pass. By the time we had reached the bowl we had left the flowers behind and kept coming upon pockets of snow.

It took Chris and me three and a half hours to climb the 800m to the top of the Telety Pass, not that far behind most of the group. For Chris it was a great achievement and she found the last quarter really tiring as the semolina effect was wearing off. Nothing makes me happier than enabling somebody to achieve something they thought was beyond their reach, and if carrying a second rucksack gives them a better chance I am happy to do so. Terry’s reaction when Chris arrived at the Pass was priceless,”Oh, hello darling. You made it then? Well done.”

If we thought the ascent was difficult, the descent was doubly so. It was a much greater distance than the ascent and it was also a drop of 1000m. It took us on steep terrain, across snowfields and, most difficult of all, boulder fields that seemed to go on for ever. Alexander was getting visibly frustrated with the lack of speed. He showed a lack of understanding and patience. Not only was Chris struggling with the unfamiliar territory but Sandie was concentrating on protecting her knee, while Simon developed a headache and felt sick. After all, this was only our second day of walking and we had reached 3759m, that is well over 12,000 feet. The descent into camp took five and a half hours.

However, once settled in camp, there was some doubt as to whether Chris should attempt the walk the next day as it involves a steep 1200m ascent. After some discussion it seemed as though Chris had no alternative but to carry on. There can be no guarantee that a vehicle would be going to Karakol and no means of communication. We could leave them here at camp with no vehicle and no means of support. We would have to make it work.

Another sleepless night. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since I arrived in Kyrgyzstan. Apart from the first night in the hotel we have camped very close to very fast flowing, noisy rivers. It has been impossible to blot out the sound of rushing water. Last night we had several thunder storms rattle through from 3.30 onwards. Being in a narrow valley just amplified the noise while the lightening illuminated the tent as though it were daytime. In addition, heavy rain accompanied it, adding to the noise. It was only after the storms had passed and daylight was approaching the I managed to accomplish anything that resembled sleep. I have also had issues with temperature. A full sleeping bag is too hot and clammy. No sleeping bag it is too cold and clammy. It felt better last night just to have the bag as a duvet. I think had we not had the other distractions, sleep might have come more easily.

Paul decided to withdraw from the walk this morning. He did not like Alex’s description of the trail. Instead he chose to walk the 21km into Karokol and wait there until we finish the walk on Tuesday. Chris, on the other hand, had made up her mind to do it.

Crossing the river from camp we climbed up through pine forest dripping from the night’s rain. Emerging from the forest the path steepened as we climbed a former terminal moraine. As we did so, thunder began to rattle around over our heads and rain could be seen approaching from across the valley. At this point Mike and I were ahead of the group and, as the rain and hail began to descend upon us we came across a yurt camp. We were invited to shelter in a tent and were quickly joined by a group of Slovenians.

The rest of the group came by as the rain was easing so we tagged on to the back. Alex was not best pleased.

Soon the route became steep again as it climbed up beside the river that flowed out from Lake Ala Kul. It was really impressive.

Chris was finding the going tough, so I insisted I carried her rucksack for the final steep third of the route. She immediately started to move more freely and my confidence that she was going to make it grew.

The route took us through a variety of steep terrains until we reached the top. Immediately beneath us was our camp but the view beyond camp was stunning. Before us was a blue/green lake with a wall of craggy mountains of about 4000m rising from it. Wow! And I have that view from my wind battered tent held down with lumps of rock as there is nowhere to put pegs in. This is wild camping at its best and I feel a good night’s sleep is on the cards.

After the best night’s sleep yet a cloudless sky greeted us in the morning. I opened my tent door to look upon the still waters of the lake reflecting the ridge line above the opposite shore. You simply could not tire of such a view.

After breakfast we set off on the 500m climb up to the Ala Kul Pass at 3918m, the high point of the trek. It was clear quite early on that Chris was struggling with climbing at altitude, so after a while I insisted on taking her pack from her. I had carried her pack for a good part of each day, making my load about 13kg, not an enormous weight in itself but probably heavier than I have ever carried at altitude.

There was quite a bit of stop/start about the climb, which I found very difficult. I needed to set a rhythm and stick to it as long as I could. Having checked with Alex that it was okay to forge ahead, I set out for the top of the pass. I still had about 300m to climb but setting a plod I managed to get there without stopping, other that to stand aside to let quicker walkers pass. It was satisfying to be able to go at my own pace and I felt good. Although I was breathing quite heavily, I did not feel any effects from the altitude.

From the top the views either side were spectacular. On the side I had climbed the whole of Lake Ala Kul lay beneath me with its turquoise waters, beyond layered ridges and peaks of rock and snow as far as the eye could see. The top end of the lake is fed from a very short river, the source of which was a glacier clinging to an unnamed sharp peaked mountain of 4233m. On the other side of the pas it was again mountain after mountain as far as the eye could see. My attention was also drawn to the way down, an incredibly steep path of very loose material. That was going to be fun. Initially I hunkered down next to the crest of wind sculptured snow, which gave me some shelter from the light, but cold wind. I didn’t stay there long as I didn’t want to miss the opportunity of greeting the team when they reached the top. I had been on the pass for about half an hour when Alex came with Claire and Terry. Soon after Sandie and Simon appeared, later followed by Mike looking after Chris. Two days ago we thought that Chris wouldn’t make it, that she would have to drop out. Yet here she was, at 3918m on the Ala Kul Pass. It shows a measure of her determination, but I must recognise the help and support she received from the rest of the group, Simon and Mike in particular. I am also grateful to her for giving me the opportunity to push myself. As I get older I begin to question my own capabilities and this has proved to me that I can still visit places of altitude if I put my mind to it. I was fortunate that I did not feel any effects of being at nearly 4000m without any acclimatisation.

Now we had to get everybody safely down the other side. Some were facing their demons, which clearly had to be overcome. The difficulty was that you had to shuffle yourself into a position where your feet touched the ground, ground that was anything but firm. It was also important to get those who feared it most down first so that they didn’t have time to think about it. Alex and Simon got Sandie over the edge to a point where Simon could capably take over. Alex then came back for Chris.

We were fortunate to have a couple of the crew to help get us started. They were really cheerful and both, I discovered, support Chelsea. Unfortunately they had not heard of Lincoln City! Mike was next, then Claire, followed by Terry and I brought up the rear. It was just that initial leap of faith over the edge that was the difficulty. After that it was fun, although you had to concentrate throughout. Everybody made it down safely, although Terry did break a pole in a tumble. Rather that than break himself.

Lunch was quickly taken in a yurt before continuing the lengthy 1400m descent into camp at Altyn-Arashan where a small resort has developed around some hot mineral springs. It was a delight to spend some time luxuriating in the hot water after four days of strenuous activity with little or no facilities.

In the evening, following dinner, we popped along to the resort shop to buy some bottled beer, which they put into a Morrisons plastic bag! How does that happen?

So ends the first phase of this trip. Despite it being only a four-day trek it has been truly amazing. We have feasted our eyes on some truly amazing sights. It is hardly surprising that the Karokol region is so popular, and will become more so when the message is spread that Kyrgyzstan has some mountain scenery to match any in the world. What they have to be very careful about is that they don’t fall behind with the infrastructure. Wild camping is great but when there are no toilet facilities the camping areas can soon lose their attraction.

Settling into camp

June, the month of long, hot days and short, balmy nights. Perhaps that is what we have come to expect over recent years. Not this. Our walk across Devon from Wembury in the south to Lynmouth in the north was one I will always associate with rain and cool temperatures, of wearing more layers on a walk than I would in winter, of early nights, listening to the rain pattering on canvas. To make matters even more depressing I chose to go alcohol and bread free for two weeks!

Our first camp was at the very extensive River Dart Country Park, with so many amenities and activities it is possible never to leave, particularly if you are a child. But we had a mission to walk the 117 miles across Dartmoor, Exmoor and all the bits in between.

A grey start at Wembury

It wasn’t actually raining as we assembled on the beach at Wembury, but it was promised. Distracted by the pilates class taking place on the beach, we took the wrong path. I’m sure we went wrong so we could linger longer over the stretching lycra clad limbs. Eventually, it was they who pointed us in the right direction.

There was much debate as to how far we were to walk on this first day. The guide book said 17 miles, David Thomas said 14 miles, some discrepancy. The going was quite easy, following footpaths across farmland, despite the rain that was now falling steadily.

Although we were following the Two Moors Way, that fact was not recognised on any of the signposts; we were walking the Erme-Plym Trail to Ivybridge where the original Two Moors Way started. The start was subsequently moved to Wembury to create the Devon Coast to Coast.

A damp lunch break

Passing through the villages of Brixton and Yealmpton we missed the opportunity to take a break in a cafe. As we didn’t see anything on the trail I decided not to venture off trail in search of one. We still did not know how far we were going to be walking and sitting around in a cafe with wet clothing held little appeal. There were others who would have welcomed a coffee break!

Gradually the weather improved and by the time we reached Ermington, the end was in sight. We were to find the minibus parked close to a finger post that told us that Wembury was 15 miles away and my Strava App told me we had walked 15.36 miles, so both the guide book and David were wrong.

The second day, despite temperatures struggling to get into double figures was one of the best. Not only did it take us up on to the tops of Dartmoor, it remained dry throughout. We quickly climbed out of Ivybridge, and as we did so, the view of where we had walked the previous day opened up.

Heading north

Our first high point was Butterdon Hill. From there we headed predominantly north, following occasional stones standing vertically out of the moor. They are part of the longest row of standing stones in the world, being two miles in length. These rows, and sometimes circles of stones, are of historical significance, having stood there for hundreds, or even thousands, of years, marking the way across the bleak moors, depicting burial sites and boundaries. These would have been very useful if the weather had been so poor that the upland was covered in cloud. However, today was bright and clear.

As we progressed across the moorland we came across herds of cattle, largely Belted Galloways, short and stocky and well able to withstand the harsh upland conditions.

Bleak, featureless, open moorland

For much of the route we were due to follow a disused railway line that crossed the moor to Red Lake where there were deposits of China clay. This was hard underfoot so, where we could, we took alternative routes across the softer grass. This was much more pleasant and took away the tedium of walking on a manufactured trail. By following this route we crossed Glasscombe Ball, Piles Hill, Sharp Tor and Quickbeam Hill. It was on the descent from the latter that I made a navigational error and everybody was so relaxed and enjoying the walk that they never noticed. It was only when we reached the Red Lake and a pyramid spoil heap half a mile later, did we realise the mistake. However, there was a good reason for going wrong, for while we were off route we came across a very lame Dartmoor pony. Simon, Sandie and Celeste were able to make contact with the appropriate authorities who would come out to see the pony and take the necessary action. So, it was worth going wrong.

Bizarrely, I discovered, about a 100m from where we went wrong, there was the only way marker on the whole of Dartmoor, a huge stone standing clearly by the path. How we all missed it, I will never know.

Claire on the clapper bridge

Back on the right track, we descended steeply to a valley with a clapper bridge over the stream. Shortly afterwards we came across the Huntingdon Cross, a 16th C Dartmoor Forest boundary marker.

Climbing again with signs of ancient settlements all around us, we passed between Hickerton Hill and Pupers Hill before making the long descent into Scoriton. We had , earlier, toyed with the idea of going on to Holne in order to give us a better chance to walk further the next day, knowing that some pretty foul weather was coming our way in a couple of days time. As it was, we wasted time going off route, so we stuck to our original plan.

A group picture in Scoriton at the start of Day 3 (much happier looking that at the end of a long Day 2)

On reaching Scorriton there was no sign of the minibus, so once the pub had opened we headed there for refreshment. (You will notice in the previous paragraph that I have spelt it with one “r” while in this I have used two “rr”) This is because there is some ambiguity over the spelling. Maps and the guide book use two, while the village signs use only one. Locals insist it has only one “r”. Eventually the minibus arrived and took us back to camp.

Having spent a day high on the moors, it was a little disappointing to find ourselves down in the valleys again. It’s not that they are not beautiful but I would have hoped that the walk lived up to its name.

The River Dart

There had also been a lack of places to stop to enjoy a coffee in the morning, but I was determined that today, we should take advantage of the community shop and cafe in Holne, just thirty minutes into our walk. Unfortunately, the shop did not open until 11.00 and the cafe until the weekend. Clearly, the Two Moors Way is not as popular as I had thought. In fact, we had yet to meet anybody walking it.

So, coffeeless, we ploughed on. Having followed a delightful section of the River Dart, we began to climb above the valley. As we did so we saw, in the distance, a figure coming towards us. It was Bobby, Claire’s husband, jogging to meet us in his rather lurid green trainers! Showers were all around us but we managed to avoid the worst of them.

Dartmoor mare and foal

Another descent into the hamlet of Ponsworthy then took us along a stretch of the River Webburn before climbing and descending a hill, by road, that took us down to Widecombe in the Moor, a delightful village surrounded by moorland. In the middle is the Old Inn, where we found ourselves settled before heading back to camp. It was so delightful there that we decided we would eat there on our last night before moving camp for the northern half of the walk.

The rain we had been expecting had arrived during the night. There was no way of avoiding it as it was set for, at least, the morning. Frantic checking of weather apps told us that it might clear in the afternoon.

From Widecombe in the Moor, there are two alternative routes, a high level and a low level one. As the weather was so foul, and the moors were shrouded in cloud, we decided to take the low level. This necessitated a long road section out of the village, which, by the time we reached the end of it, was mind numbingly boring. We had a choice. We could continue along the low level route, through wet and slippery fields, often overlooked by dripping trees, or brave the high level route, which might be more interesting. We plumped for the high level route. As we climbed the wind became stronger and, as we were walking into the wind, it became less pleasant. Enthusiasm began to wane, so, giving people a chance to say what they felt, we went back down to resume the low level route. It was pretty damp, but we were, at least, out of the wind.

Lunch in Lettaford

Not many photos of the day were taken as it was just too horrible to get the camera out. However, we did stop for lunch in the hamlet of Lettaford. Claire, looking for somewhere dry to sit, saw a door that she thought led into a barn. Opening it, she found herself in the hallway to a house. Fortunately, only we noticed.

As the afternoon progressed the weather improved and we began to dry out. Before reaching Chagford, we passed Gidleigh Park, a renowned hotel with a Michelin starred chef of reputation. As we walked down the lane a number of chauffeur driven cars and taxis carried affluent, often overweight, clients up to the hotel, clearly to sample the fare on offer.

We eventually finished on the outskirts of the little market town of Chagford, but had to walk into the centre in order to pick up the minibus. There, we came across a delightful little cafe, the Green Man Cafe, just before closing time, where we managed to secure a cracking cream tea each. It was the best part of the day!

Now that we had reached Chagford, we had left Dartmoor behind us, and we had a few days of walking through the agricultural heartland of Devon before encountering Exmoor. The weather had improved again, but rain was never far away and we always made sure that if we weren’t wearing waterproofs, they were easily accessible.

The Teign Gorge

Leaving Chagford, we followed the River Teign before climbing up the wooded slopes beneath Castle Drogo. This took us in high up into the Teign Gorge, where, from our elevated position, we looked down on to densely wooded slopes. It was very beautiful. The walking was pretty easy and we made good progress, arriving in Drewsteignton before opening time. (We only wanted a coffee). More rain greeted our arrival in the village so we visited the church for shelter while we waited for the pub to open at midday.

In the church there was an inscribed stone with a spelling mistake on it. The first word was “This” but the “s” had been missed out. After the second word “stone” had been carved the stone worker realised his mistake, or had it pointed out to him, and inserted the “s” hoping that nobody would notice.

Lunch

Having had our coffee in the pub, we continued, looking for somewhere suitable for a lunch stop. We came across many fields of cattle during the course of our walk and they were always curious, particularly the young steers who would gather around, run off, gather around but never brave enough to cause us any harm. We needed to avoid lunching in fields that contained cows, not just because they were in the field but for what they do in the field. Sheep are much more accommodating and, having passed through one field of curious cattle we came to a field of sheep, with another field of cattle beyond. The sheep ran off, and we had a very relaxed lunch sitting on the sloping grass, feeling the warmth of the sun for a change.

Dragging ourselves on, we crossed field after field until we reached the hamlet of Hittisleigh where the last section was road. We had cut the distance short for the day because of concerns over the minibus coping with very narrow lanes. Hence, we stopped in the middle of nowhere.

Camp set up at Yeatheridge Farm

We had now completed just over half the distance and it was time to take a day off walking while we moved camp. As we approached Yeatheridge Farm, near Withering, the heavens opened and it looked like it was going to be a very unpleasant process of establishing camp. Fortunately, the rain eased, the sun came out and the remainder of the day was very pleasant. With everything set up, people sat in the sun drinking Pimms while some of us played Kubb. This proved to be the only occasion when the weather was good enough for such relaxation and activity.

I had hoped and expected that the weather might be better in the north of the county but, in fact, it proved to be worse, with more rain. We were joined, for this second leg of the journey by Sally, Libby and newbie, Jan, who were all staying in a rather palatial fixed caravan on the site. Somewhere to go to avoid the rain.

As we set off from the middle of nowhere my phone rang. It was a call I needed to take, so I told the group to go ahead and I would catch them up. The call took several minutes, and having finished it, I set off quickly to catch up. I could not see them ahead. They had made good progress. I reached a point where I could see quite a way ahead and there was no sign of them. They had made really good progress! Then I received a message to look behind me. There, coming over the brow of a hill was the group. How did that happen? Why didn’t I see them? Had they gone wrong? None of that. They hid in an entrance to a field and watched me go by, and because I had my head down and was striding out, I never saw them. When they slowly caught up with me, they blamed Jan but I know otherwise. I would have done exactly the same thing had David taken a call!

Threatening skies

The rest of the day was spent crossing field after field of mixed farmland, taking lunch and shelter in the church at Clannaborough Barton while a heavy shower passed over. This was the pattern; it was lovely countryside with nothing particularly spectacular about it. It was a route that had to be taken to link the two moors. As we approached Black Dog and the end of our day’s walk the skies turned very black and we just managed to get back to camp before the heavens opened and we were treated to some rumbles of thunder.

On returning to camp we learned that it had been subjected to a fierce thunderstorm with golf ball sized hail stones that tested the canvass of the shelters and tents. Fortunately, they resisted. It was also fortunate that we managed not to be walking in such extreme weather.

It rained pretty much the rest of the night and although we were dry, apart from a few drips, in the mess it was pretty uncomfortable. Thankfully Yeatheridge Farm has a comfortable bar and a games room, which we took a liking to.

Wet Witheridge

Sodden earth under leaden skies greeted us the next morning and it was still raining heavily. It wasn’t far from Black Dog to Witheridge, so I suggested Angela meet us there for coffee. She could be the advance party to find the best place for us. Spirits were a bit damp and we needed a comfortable coffee break. The message came to me that there were no cafes open in Witheridge and my feelings for the place plummeted. True enough, they were all closed apart from a room that advertised coffee, conversation and companionship, a place for lonely old people I realised as I stuck my head around the door. Ideal! Not! In the end we discovered that the shop served hot drinks and, rather than coffee, the comfort of a hot chocolate, and a pasty was much appreciated.

After Witheridge, we had a long section of road, the only interest along it being the naturist caravan and camp site at Acorns. If we could have seen over the high hedges and fences, I doubt we would have seen any naked cavorting on such a miserable day.

One outcome of such miserable weather was the fact that it was very unpleasant to stop for long. When we stopped for lunch in a small copse, we soon got cold. Hence we reached Knowstone, our finishing point, in good time. The Masons Arms, although officially closed, were happy to sell us drinks while we waited for Angela and the minibus. It had, at last, stopped raining.

That night, instead of huddling around in the damp, chilly mess tent, we abandoned it for the comfort of the restaurant and bar of the camp site.

The countryside north of Knowstone was becoming more interesting. Exmoor was showing more of itself as we approached, and we were not always walking across farmland. There were still lengthy sections of quiet country lanes but they, at least allowed us to make good progress, even if the surface was boring.

Tarr Steps

Having crossed West Anstey Moor, we stopped in Hawkeridge for lunch, where we were to meet three of our group who had chosen to take a shorter walk. By the time we were ready to move on, and the cold was beginning to penetrate, they had not arrived, so, leaving David behind to wait for them, we cracked on. A steady climb, followed by a steep descent, dropped us down to Tarr Steps, a series of clapper bridges across the River Barle. I have not come across this river before, but it is a most delightful stretch of water as we followed it all the way to Withypool. After all the rain we had been experiencing the river was running quite high and the run off from the hills above turned the path into a watery obstacle course. For me it was one of the nicest sections of the whole walk.

In Withypool, we found the cafe before the minibus, so treated ourselves to a cream tea!

The River Barle

The penultimate day’s walk was the shortest, from Withypool to Simonsbath. A steady climb out of Withypool took us up on to the moor, the grey, damp weather persisting. No sooner had we climbed, then we descended to the River Barle again and followed it all the way into Simonsbath, arriving in good time to visit the pub. Only we were not made to feel very welcome when they asked us to remove our boots. The first three, including Claire who had carried a pair of polythene overshoes, obliged but were then forced to drink up quickly as the others couldn’t be bothered.

Despite taking a fairly long route back to camp, albeit on good roads, we were back in good time and able to relax. The weather had been much kinder in camp.

From Simonsbath we immediately climbed up on to the moors where herds of young cattle followed us with interest. Despite being cloudy, it was quite a pleasant day. Having reached Exe Head, the source of the River Exe, we began our descent towards the north coast. It was great walking country and it was easy, on good paths, to make excellent progress.

Guess who enjoying lunch

By the time we reached Cheriton, where we were hoping to find somewhere for a lunch stop, it was raining heavily, so we continued a little further, seeking shelter in some woods. They provided little shelter as by now huge drips wall falling on us from the canopy, as well as the rain.

We were now walking high above the East Lyn River. Mist drifted among the trees and clouds fringed the tops of the cliffs. Across the water we could make out the coast of South Wales.

The end in sight

The rain came and went, water proofs were put on and taken off, all the time delaying our arrival time in Lynmouth. With the end in sight, the Two Moors Way was going to have the last word and a sudden deluge hit us. It absolutely tipped it down as we walked into the small coastal town. The walk had tried everything it could to dampen our spirits, but we had overcome and completed it, remaining cheerful throughout.  And to prove it, I dripped all over the Two Moors Way register that people sign upon completion in the Pavilion. There we were told that traditionally people carry a stone from Wembury and deposit it on the beach at Lynmouth. Oops!

That night we celebrated our feat with a meal in the campsite restaurant and a bar tab, courtesy of Stella who was unable to join us. On reading this, I think she might be grateful. Newbie, Jan entertained us with her ukulele, something she had been threatening to do all week!

So, that is the two Moors Way ticked off. Would I do it again? No! It is a good walk but the highlights are very much Dartmoor and Exmoor, and very little time is actually spent high on the moors. I would certainly go back to explore the two moors again, hopefully in better weather, next time.

A soggy end to a soggy walk

Hats off to everybody who stuck it out, particularly Angela and Annie who didn’t have any of the enjoyment of the walking but had to concentrate on making sure we got to our start point each day, were there to pick us up, and, most importantly to feed us. On that note, despite not drinking alcohol, barely eating bread, and walking 120miles I put on half a stone! How does that happen? Oh, there was bit of cake each day, and two cream teas, and two pasties. Perhaps that is how.