Watersmeet, Lynton and Exmoor lanes

Shadows lengthen, days shorten.
Up early to check the weather, treat the sliding pillars to a good few shots of  Molybdenum grease and venture north along Exmoor lanes
Off the M5, the north devon link road and A399 heads to Simonsbath, then the B3223 to Hillsford and A39 Watersmeet Road to Lynmouth. 

You could hear a pin drop this morning

The weather window chosen allows for some photo landscape attempts chasing shafts of sunlight between lovely fluffy white clouds. Dawn arrived quite pink like the previous evening but it was well past sunrise that I reached the mossy Beech hedges of high Exmoor.  The clear still air allows the distant smoke to rise in their grey/blue tints and blend so beautifully with the cobalt and cerulean colours.

Looking south towards South Molton

After Simonsbath the road backs west and descends into river valleys, the destination of Lynmouth something of an anti-climax because the drama is then soon over. Watersmeet is a place I have never seen before despite having lived in Devon a whole lifetime. It easily matches anything similar on Dartmoor and I shall have to take Helen another day.

Spot the birds nest

From Lynmouth I have to detour inland again to reach towards Ilfracombe due to a diversion in Combe Martin but soon find one of those tortuous lanes that I enjoy so much and which winds with many a steep hairpin bend to pass Smythen Wood along the way through Sterridge Valley.

Frost whitens the shady hollows

Making for home by the Simonsbath high road over Exmoor, I stopped to wonder at the wider landscape so peaceful. Yet another surprise this Monday morning as the baying of hounds and a lone trumpeting horn signalled the presence of the Exmoor Hunt somewhere quite close. I cannot say I am moved by the ethics of hunting but I felt that it added depth to the scene as it has done for many hundreds of years past and probably will continue to do well into the foreseeable future.

Wide open spaces

Exmoor ponies roam free

Towards Watersmeet

Waypoints and link to Google Map

The East Lyn River gushing down to the sea viewed here just downstream of Watersmeet

Route Map

What makes me Happy

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, "Desiderata"

Thought for the day.

Those eager to lead us into believing one thing or another are never far away.  I shy away from religion and groups that shelter behind a cloak of respectability.  My pension provider has lost two thousand pounds from my pension pot this past twelve months and says I may not have the 25% tax free drawdown promised by Her Majesties Government.  "Telephone again  next April". They say; "we might have more to tell you by that time".

I listened to a  bishop berating a banker on Thursday but why the BBC chose to broadcast  a sermon on the morals of a banker is a puzzle, when we know full well that bankers are no better than the rest. ( I would sooner hear what the bishop had to say about the actress). 

The tools of propaganda crowd the airways night and day. Doris Archer and Ambridge Farm, leaves me cold.

Perhaps the BBC would have Eddie Grundy tour the Morgan factory, now that would be a tale worth telling.  

  

Early morning Dartmoor

Before the gritters spread salt on Devon's lanes I take an autumn colour run. .  Its about here the Nightjars purr a haunting song and sometimes wing clap one another.  Long since flown to warmer winter ground.

The high road  leads to Chudleigh and the skyline looking west is Dartmoor. Lanes wild growing Ash, Oak, Birch, Holly, Beech and Hazel.    

Forgetting Bovey Tracey, approach Manaton for more woodland colours and gently thread a way down where moss cushions the granite boulder hedge. One five bar gate needs opening before the climb out of the shade to Hound Tor. Heading out of Manaton and past Wingstone Farm the next turning left is the narrowest of roads ever to be navigated in this Mog. 

Best not bring your wide bodied Morgan through;   in places less than 3 inches clearance exists on either side of me.

Now is not the time of year for thoughts of Hounds and Misty Spectres. There are no such shadow figures lurking here, no howling dog barks on remembrance Sunday.

All is quiet and mellow, until one Morgan burbles down the road and soon goes by.

A tiny vole scampers left to right,  missed by a country mile.  It would be a shame to find this little dark chocolate coloured creature between the treads of my Continental front tyre.

A mistake to hurry home too soon.

Pause after the five bar gate and take a dozen still images of this autumn kaleidoscope.  If only I had done so.

Today I say a prayer for my uncle Eric lost during D day landings.  I found the faded letter of very few words sent to my grandfather and grandmother typed on the thinnest of war issue paper.

I salute him.

Three videos follow - each 6 or 7 minutes long...