Shimmering gold

is Dean Burn

on a Sunday afternoon.

I’d just been having outdoor sex in the Spring sunshine.

And now we went down to dip our toes in this golden stream.

One of those “moments”

A silent soup

Up onto the Dam (Avon)

After a flask of homemade chicken and tarragon soup i took a few pics.

As when i’d been there back in Sept, the silence was palpable – as an absence.

A birdless silence.

Nothing moving – except as shimmers across the water.

Nothing noisy or extraenous to disturb the spaceousness.

Only Sound.

That soup tasted so good.

On the way to Yelverton

A pissy moor-misty afternoon and I’m looking for undiscovered Dartmoor.

Yelverton sounds like an interesting name – lets go there.

On the way I’m stopping to take pics

A stand of tall trees.

The ubiquitous solitary Hawthorn with scrags of gorse.

This horse comes over close to the car expecting cheesy wotsits.

I get to Yelverton. Split by road with a roundabout between Plymouth and Tavistock it is.

There was no picture to take of Yelverton.

Going to Yelverton was much better than getting to Yelverton.

Snuggling cows

One of those cuddly lovely moments.

Lovely cus you’re not expecting anything cuddly to be happening.

You’re just aware enough to be receptive enough to be open.

I was stumbling across what seemed like deserted moorland and who should be secreted into the gorse and bracken but a cow family – mom and her 3 calves – having a little lie down, quietly ruminating away on a snoozy Sunday afternoon.

Here’s 2 of the calves

They just wanted to lie there, be left alone. Settle their stomachs.

I sat with them for 10 minutes, feeling like i was part of the family – they’d let me in to their home to snuggle up on the living room sofa.

Bleak and barren Dartmoor changed to cosy comfortable Dartmoor. We were protected, secure and sound, somewhere safe upon the ground – all 5 of us hidden away from harm is how it was feeling. It felt private, almost intimate.

And then i had to go and spoil it by nosing around the calves

They were having to stand up cus they weren’t sure about me with my clicky camera

Altho mom didn’t seem bothered. She let me get right up close to her, an arm-stretch away

Looking at me as if to say “?!@?*?+#?=”

And then she just got her head down again and began her munchy munch (with me forgotten about)

I didn’t forget her, or them tho.

Was remembering – for the next hour – all 4 of them warmly, and our “lovely moment” together.

The killing roads of Devon

I reckon the bunny was hit only moments before i took this picture

On a back country lane up to Dartmoor

It was clean enough for me to have taken it home and popped it in a pot (after skinning it of course)

A couple hours later driving back (on a different back country lane) was another roadkill, this time a badger

But this sad fella was already being picked apart by crows.

A car coming the other way was wanting to pass, trying to squeeze me over to the edge where the badger lay.

But i couldn’t run over him again. Didn’t feel right.

The soft bloody pulp of badger crushed and crunched by my Fiesta – not good. It’s messy guts rolled ugly into my tyres – not good.

Better to let the crows do their thing, and clean him up good.

Muslims on the Moors

Muslims. On the Moors.

Not walking like everybody was, along the tarmacked path from the dam – but driving down in their cars. The men were getting out, but the veiled women were sat inside their burqua’s seemingly too frightened to get out. Or maybe it was the men who were too frightened to let them out in case fundamental tenets of Islamic faith were being contravened:

1. Womenfolk may not be permitted to be gazed upon by wild and woolly beasts.

2. Womenfolk may not be permitted to be within 10 feet of outward displays of frivolity (i.e frisbee throwing, splashing about in fast running waters with bare feet etc)

3. Womenfolk may not be permitted to walk in upwards directions in case of excessive sweat producing tendencies.

4. Removal of any items of (black) clothing – due to excessive sweat producing tendencies – is strictly forbidden.

5. Tendencies of any kind to be strictly discouraged.

6. Womenfolk may not be permitted to mix with kafirs (unbelievers) wearing sunglasses.

7. Womenfolk may not be permitted anywhere near whitey girls hanging baps out to be suckled.

8. Womenfolk to be kept well away from male bird spotters wearing binoculars.

9. Womenfolk must at all times refrain from public displays of licking or sucking (i.e ice-creams)

10. Womenfolk to avoid Staffordshire Bull Terrriers, as these nasty dogs are inclined to bite – and trained to kill – any persons dressed head to toe in black, mistaking them for blackbirds.

Must have taken the wrong turning or something, these Muslimists. Ended up on Dartmoor instead of Damascus.

Ontop of the Dam

I live on the edge of Dartmoor, but don’t know it that well. I’ve always preferred heading off to the sea.

In the last weeks I’m going up onto it more.

Yesterday i went to Shipley Bridge; then walked 2 miles up to Avon Dam.

A rare sunny Sunday afternoon meant all the world and his dog (s) were there. And a Mr Whippy ice-cream van. Young mothers with baps out feeding babs. Dedicated hikers with walking sticks. A solitary bird watching binocular man. Hippy witches. And 2 carfuls of muslims (I’ll write about them in the next post)

Cus it was Sunday. And it was warm and sunny. Not raining. Quick – lets get out and do the walking and picnicking we didn’t do all Summer, before Autumn sets in and it starts raining again.

So up and up i walked, with moors banked to the left and the right.

Most people didn’t bother going all the way up to the the dam at the top. Which is a pity cus they missed this:

Hardly a thing stirred. Nothing and nobody was around. Not a bird anywhere. A silent lagoon plonked onto the roof of Dartmoor.

I got my flask of coffee out.

The silence was palpable. I could feel the quiet, could see it. Could see silence rippling on the water in quiet bubbles. One floated by. A fragile bubble of peace, unbroken, unbreaking.

I got up and walked across the high ridge of the dam (not permitted – but hey, we’re not living in Iran)

A few people were below, but only i was up here, stood on the top of the dam

feeling aloof – inside my single bubble of peace.

Essentially that’s what Dartmoor is about: experiencing aloneness

Sometimes as loneliness, sometimes as emptiness.

Empty of self. Silent of self.

Just a quiet bubble floating on by.

Skateboarding across the Moors

Ponies weren’t the only thing up on Dartmoor last night.

As i was taking pics – who should come whizzing by but this guy

I think the red car in front was taking him up hills – then he was getting out and whooshing down.

As you can probably see the gradients on some of these hills is pretty steep, so the buzz you’d get rushing down them would be, well – quite a rush.

I liked that he was doing it. It made Dartmoor suddenly seem like a great big urban playground.

Cool, dude! Not Dartmoor National Park anymore. No – Dartmoor Skateboard Park!

So, all you “My Little Pony” fuckers standing around munchin, and pissin (sheep) and shittin (cows) – get outta my way.

I’m bringing it on down! Weeeeee!!! Way to go man!

Haldon Belvedere

I was driving back from Exeter.

In a forest, on top of a hill, overlooking Dartmoor – is this castle, Haldon Belvedere.

I’ve just checked the website. You could live in it for 3 nights (cost £300) It looks as fantastic inside as it does from the outside.

Just imagine living and sleeping in an enchanted fairytale white castle (Go on – won’t do any harm)

Being your very own Prince or Princess – if only for a weekend.

A dream really i know – and we all know dreams don’t really come true.

Or do they?!….. Lol

Nah – probably not.

Dream on sunshine…..

The Sheep Pest

I was also chasing after sheep on Dartmoor yesterday evening.

They flocked underneath this hawthorn.

But as soon as they saw me they were off.

Pissing themselves scared whenever i got anywhere near

Baaa!!! You big babies you!