Standing right on top of the wildest, most open, bleakest, emptiest space in Bodmin Moor in a hailstorm is not top of my list of ways to spend Good Friday (or any other day), but that is what I did today.
There was a walk planned, from St Breward to King Arthur's Hall and back, and the day had dawned sunny, warm and deceptively peaceful. The last few days have been dreadful everywhere (except, apparently, in Canada) and although we haven't had the heavy snowfalls they've had in Scotland it's been pretty wild, with rain, sleet, snow, hail, very strong winds and general unpleasantness. So when it was so warm and bright in the morning I was inclined to believe the forecast that said the worst of it had passed, with only a few showers remaining.
I *know* about the moors now, I prepare for the worst. There *will* be walking, but I will wear; from the waist down, leggings, showerproof trousers, heavy duty socks, waterproof boots; from the waist up, pique shirt, fleece, Swedish loggers' fleece lined waterproof coat (passed down from my sister-in-law's brother) either a fleecy hat or a waxed rain hat (took both, opted for the warm one), and good gloves. I *will* be weatherproof. And, in view of the fact that we are going to be eating in quite a nice establishment afterwards (with a 'touch' of just-in-case) I will also take some spare trousers and spare footwear.
St Breward is a long way from everywhere. It's right up on top of Bodmin Moor - it claims the highest pub and highest church in Cornwall, and although there are other contenders for both it is definitely up there with them. Ty and I left Saltash at lunchtime in lovely weather. There's a place where I had to cross the main A30 road and had to wait for ten minutes for a gap in the traffic going west for the weekend (nothing going the other way at all) and as I waited there it started to rain. Across the road it stopped, but a couple of miles further on there was a flurry of hailstones - heavy, but only for a couple of minutes.
We got to the meeting place first and I had plenty of time to get all the heavy weather gear on. When JakeMegs(Harvey) finally arrived they brought a new walker with them - come all the way from County Cork for her very first visit to Cornwall and straight off the plane onto the moor. She'd been warned, of course, and had the waterproofs, and even looked as if she was going to enjoy it! King Arthur's Hall and back, that was the plan.
King Arthur's Hall is a megalithic place of stones and bog, sort of house shaped, right on the top of the moor in the middle of nowhere, with Roughtor and Brown Willy (two of the hills I have never actually got to the top of) looming in the background. The way there was fine, good walking, bright sunshine, wonderful views. You can almost see the sea on both the north and south coasts from there. Well, you can see the St Austell china clay slag heaps to the south, and the Delabole wind farm to the north, both of which are within a mile or so of the shore. It is really and truly on top of the world.
However. As we stood there, within sight of King Arthur's Hall, checking out the visibility in several directions, a line of squalls suddenly appeared to our left. We looked right - another line of squalls. Within five minutes they had converged and the horizontal hail started. Nothing we could do but stand there with our backs to it. It was stinging my legs even through trousers and leggings. It was impossible to look into it. And that was the exact moment that Ron chose to phone and see where I was and if I was having fun! So I told him...
It seemed to last forever but was probably about ten minutes. But by the end of it I was wet in places I didn't think the weather could reach. (Down the back of my neck, for example.) Still, the sun came out and we gradually dried off as we walked. The ground was a lot boggier than it had been half an hour before, though. Down from the moor to a ford which was flooded (but passable in proper boots). Up the hill the other side and we could see the church in St Breward, although we couldn't get there in a straight line. We were on lanes for a while and round one corner all the dogs went to look at something - the three collies turned away, but Harvey-the-Spaniel didn't leave it until told twice. It was a dog fox. It had been shot, with a rifle, one shot through the heart, and left there at the side of the road. Within the last 24 hours or so. Why? Why shoot it in the first place? Why leave it lying there? One wondered whether to report it to somebody, but then what good would it do? Shortly afterwards we went past some sheep. Although all the dogs are well behaved round sheep, we were shocked enough by the sight of the shot fox to put them on leads just in case the farmer with the rifle was still around.
Upward and onward through a farmyard and several muddy fields then back to St Breward and the pub. We'd booked a meal for six, and we got there at five to. Which isn't bad at all. I was glad I'd had the foresight to bring dry, non muddy trousers because the Old Inn is a very nice, clean establishment. The food was very good, too, and we had a pleasant couple of hours eating and putting the world to rights.
Suitably restored, I drove home. Just between the A30 and Cardinham, suddenly the road was covered with half grown rabbits, the first of the year. From there, of course, I spent about ten miles avoiding rabbits, until I got back on the main road home.
It was a good day, although I could have done without the hailstorm. Perhaps next time we'll get a chance to actually explore King Arthur's Hall...