End of the road, time to put my boots on and start heading outwards across the Moor.
This is one the most dangerous areas on Dartmoor that I’m trying to get to...Not exactly the most sensible thing to do after all the heavy rain that we have had of late!
Deep water warning signs are everywhere!
The Whiteworks old Tin mine is slowly sinking into the bog!
Finally I arrive at my destination after a very awkward but short distance walk. It’s like a maze trying to get here with all the rain, it’s hard to map out a safe route.
This is as far as I will go...as I feel the ground beneath my feet wanting to suck me in if I keep still to long!
This is the Notorious Fox Tor Mire...Sir Arthur Conan Doyle called it the Grimpen Mire in his book “The Hound of the Baskervilles”
It may look harmless enough but it has swallowed many a man and beast, never to be seen again!
_________________________________________
Dartmoor Days - Edward William Lewis Davis – 1863
"The hunter homeward speeds in haste,
Ere fogs o'ertake him on the waste;
And if to Foxtor mires he roam,
He'll bid a long adieu to home;
A dreary shroud is o'er his head,
A yawning swamp around him spread;
Spell-bound and lost he ventures on
One fatal step - and all is done;
Hopeless he struggles, vain his throes,
Deeper and deeper down he goes !
The raven claps her ebon wing,
His dirge the howling winds may sing,
And mists will spread the last sad pall
O'er that dark grave unknown to all".
_____________________________
Amusing but oh so true...
http://www.legendarydartmoor.co.uk/bogs_moor.htm
“The other downside of getting 'stogged', especially in company, is the embarrassment it causes. At this point I will take you through the bewildering array of emotions one feels as you slowly sink into the very bowels of Dartmoor. Firstly there is surprise as the ground seems to simply open up and slowly begins to drag you down. Then comes fear as you wonder exactly how far you are going to sink. This is followed by relief as you detect firm ground under your feet and then realise that you have hit 'rock bottom', (I can't describe how you would feel if you didn't hit firm ground but I would imagine panic would be a good descriptive as the ooze begins to cover your airways). Then comes the worst bit - the embarrassment which comes in two forms. The easiest to cope with is if you are alone and after checking around see that nobody has seen your predicament. In this situation you can flounder around like a beached whale, swear as much as you want and basically revel in your own stupidity. If however you are in company or have been observed from afar then I am sorry you are going to feel a complete arse. As you wallow in the bog or mire you will notice that any spectators firstly look concerned and then they will try to hide their amusement. This tends to be for a short, polite period which is followed by overt mirth and is accompanied by howls of laughter and gesticulations. It is also noticeable how your bosom buddies will not offer a helping hand to extract you for fear of becoming just as filthy. They will however kindly proffer walking sticks, dog leads and the like. Forget trying to retain any dignity as you try to extract yourself from the quagmire, it is impossible to daintily heave yourself out of the thick, oozing mass of peat and stinking vegetation with any kind of decorum. The final and lasting emotion is one of repulsion because for the remainder of the day you will be walking along, probably soaking wet, with an nostril twitching stench clinging to your person like a straight jacket and,
"you can wash in water, you can wash in soda, but you'll never get rid of that awful odour." Oh, there may well be one last emotion - anger. This usually depends on to what depths you sunk, because if it was waist-deep then a time will come when you reach for your wallet and discover that the wad of crisp £20 notes you earlier withdrew from the cashpoint has re-cycled itself into a mushy pulp in which a myriad of pond life has taken up residence.”
I hope you enjoyed the journey