Dartmoor in the 'Spring'

The weather has been quite mild for the past two or three days and this morning dawned bright and blue, in spite of the forecast for heavy showers, so an executive decision was made to go a little lighter on the heavy weather gear for the scheduled walk. This decision was wrong, very wrong. I went to Dartmoor wearing only jeans, a T-shirt, a wind/waterproof fleece lined jacket, sensible boots and a last minute woolly hat I only grabbed on the way out because it was a bit breezy down in the woods. No gloves, no vest, no inner fleece, no fleecelined waterproof trousers...

I picked up Micheal and Roz, similarly lightly clad, and the dogs and we made our way to the meeting point in Peter Tavy, right on the edge of the moor. As we arrived it suddenly clouded over and the brisk breeze turned into a howling gale while we were milling round the car park gathering the group together. Not too bad, though, and seven of us set off uphill, making for Stephen's Grave and White Tor with the wind behind us. The wind got very wet very quickly, a combination of hail and sleet hitting us more or less horizontally, but still from behind, so not unbearable. Or at least not until it had soaked through the jeans. It was only a short(ish) shower and we carried on climbing. The higher we got the stronger the wind and the sleet returned in earnest near to the top of White Tor. On the lower slopes we passed several small flocks of sheep sheltering behind rocks or walls; higher up the ponies were doing the same. Nothing was actually moving across the open ground except ourselves and the weather!

We made it all the way up to White Tor, where Roz, Vanessa and I promptly squeezed ourselves into a very small cave to shelter, leaving the men and the dogs to play. Ian found enough snow to make a very small snow figure (more duck than man, we decided) which was duly photographed by those whose fingers were not too cold to take pictures, the precipitation ceased (though not the wind, alas) and we made our way back down from the moor by a slightly different route which took us through farmyards and along a pretty stream back to the pub car park. I'm not sure how far we went, but we were out two and a half hours which was quite enough.

I had at least been sensible enough to take trackies and trainers to change into after the walk. When I took my jeans off in the ladies I found that my legs were absolutely bright red as if sunburnt, and as they thawed out they were quite sore. Lunch was good, though, and well deserved. As always, the conversation more than made up for any discomfort suffered.

This time I have learnt my lesson. I should have known better, I've been caught out before. On Dartmoor, ALWAYS dress for mid winter; that's what it's like up there. Invigorating.