Return to Teignhead

Flushed with the success of the Millie procession (see previous post), I picked up Bex and we bombed down the M4 towards Devon and the magic of Dartmoor. As far as the traffic jam, where we sat for the next hour and a half.

The plan was simple: a night of indoor luxury at Bristol’s Hotel Du Vin, followed by a night of outdoor luxury, wild camping at the remote ruins of Teignhead Farm, before heading home to be reunited with our children on Sunday night. It was going to be one of those weekends where everything takes longer than planned and everything happens a few hours behind schedule. We had a great time at the hotel, sitting down for dinner at 10.45pm, and not checking out until about midday. Great shower!

In welcome contrast to my previous trip to Teignhead (see Get off the moor, July posting), the weather was fine and settled as we struck out North from Postbridge. I tried not to fret about getting sunburned – call me paranoid, but I got well burned on Dartmoor at Easter in 2007. The following Easter I got snowed and hailed on in sub-zero temperatures. Dartmoor’s like that. One minute you’re adrift in fog, bog and snow; the next minute it’s all sunshine and ponies.



We made it to Grey Wethers stone circle in fairly good shape, and admired the open views over the moor. What happened to the communities that built all these circles so long ago? Dartmoor can’t have been any easier to live on then than it is now, so what started the exodus?

We came over the hill and down to the Teign River, having an unfounded stress about other campers nabbing our pitch, and set up next to the fire ring on the edge of the farmstead by Manga Brook. It’s such a beautiful spot.

With the sun dropping and the sky deepening, we sauntered back to the woods with a knife, a saw and an empty rucksack to gather some fuel. It was twilight by the time we returned to camp with enough kindling and logs for the night. I don’t know how legal this is, but for me it fits with the Forestry Commission’s mission statement of meeting the nation’s needs ...

After a moonlit night of food and wine by the fire, we crashed in the tent and awoke the next day later than expected. We struck camp and climbed up to Watern Tor, looping back around Sittaford Tor and back to the car. The time pressure of picking up children brought a little stress around the middle of the day (why I am still so rubbish at calculating route times?) and I ended up forfeiting the pint of Otter I’d planned for the Warren House Inn, but otherwise it was mostly sunshine and ponies.

I’m so used to going to the mountains on my own, it was great to have my wife with me on this trip, and to share a bit of Bex and Al time in the great outdoors.