The Storyteller: Why I’m trading Dartmoor’s ‘notorious’ fog for the long days of Summer

I hate wet Winters... there, I’ve said it! So far this year I haven’t set foot on Dartmoor, as a result of all the rain we’ve had. If it’s not actually raining, the place is flooded; if not actually on the moor itself, then along the narrow lanes that you need to drive through in order to get to the places you want to walk.

It's beginning to feel a bit like Covid, when you couldn’t travel there by national decree, but now it's out of choice, as I don’t get any pleasure from walking and getting wet. Plus, as I do Letterboxing, I feel it's very unfair of me to find someone else’s property and expose it to the elements whilst stamping up and trying to write in the visitors’ book. I haven’t actually been up since before Christmas, on the last decent day of sunshine.

I wasn’t always just a fair-weather walker. My friend Dave and I used to be up every Sunday, seeking out Letterboxes, and we often had to shelter behind walls or amongst rocky outcrops, protecting ourselves from the most extreme weather conditions, usually driving rain and hailstones.

As long as you had the right gear on to keep you warm and dry, it didn’t seem to matter. As soon as the worst of it had passed, you struggled on until you had to dive for cover again. Nowadays, it’s different. The other weekend, I did drive up there to drop off some of my posters to the visitor centres, and along the way we passed plenty of walkers: big coats on, hoods up, dripping with rain, trudging over the waterlogged grass... that really doesn’t appeal to me anymore...

In order to help me deal with my lack of any Dartmoor visits at the moment, and with the hope of better weather just around the corner with the coming of Spring, I thought I would share with you some of my adventures coping with some of the extreme weather conditions the moor has to offer...

One of my worst experiences with inclement weather was when I was leading one of my Sunday group walks. We had parked up in Hound Tor car park during the time of the marvellous “Hound of the Basket Meals” refreshments van... I’m sure we all took advantage of it that day... before heading off down the lane, past Swallerton Gate Cottage, towards Jay’s Grave. No rain was forecast, and it was nice when we set out, but once we were past the point of no return, the heavens opened and stayed that way for the rest of the walk.

Yes, it was a lane walk, so passing under trees gave us a little bit of shelter, but it didn’t take long for us to get soaked to the skin, and at that point you cease to care; so on we plodded. We went down the lane behind the grave towards Natsworthy Manor and, at the end, followed the road around to Heatree House, at Heatree Cross, before heading back up the lane, past the grave again, to the car park... all the time it kept raining.

The only thing that kept us going was the thought of the meal we had booked at The Warren House Inn, and drying out by the warmth of “the fire that never goes out.” Once there, we had two roaring fires to choose from. Most of us chose the famous one, whilst a couple stood in front of the larger one on the other side of the main bar. We were the only customers present.

After a while, a gentleman entered, purchased a pint, and sat at a table in the centre of the room. Once he was settled, the barmaid approached our friends and asked them not to hog the fire, as other people needed the warmth from it. Surprised by this request, as the customer had chosen the centre of the room instead of near any fire, they felt obliged to join the rest of us crowded around the other one. Despite this rather odd hospitality, we still enjoyed a hearty meal there, which took the edge off the soaking we had received.

The main element of the Dartmoor climate that has caused me the most problems is fog. In one of my recent Christmas stories, I related an encounter with a couple who were seemingly lost in a fog, in the dark, on a snowy day, just before Christmas several years ago... it turned out they were ghosts! Elements of this story are true.

Dave and I were out Letterboxing one snowy, foggy day when we did rescue a group of walkers, lost in the dark, who were real. They did have chocolate selection boxes in their rucksacks to share with us on the walk back to their cars, parked at Widecombe in the Moor, and they did get us back to our car in one piece.

Two other fog-bound adventures spring to mind. Both during long hot Summers, when you least expect it.

The first was another Sunday group walk, this time a longer hike to Cranmere Pool during one June with longer daylight hours. We had reached the stone Letterbox cabinet in good time. Once I’d stamped up its contents, the group split up. One half headed back to get refreshments in a pub in Okehampton, whilst a few of us set off on a mission to help out a mate of Dave’s, who was a fellow Letterboxer. He had a set of his own stamps scattered over the moors, with only a few more to site to complete the series. They were all in the same area, within striking distance of the pool, and he was no longer able to make the journey himself, so we had offered to help him out.

It didn’t take long to complete the task, finding suitable hiding places, before we headed back to join our friends. However, we hadn’t gone far when we noticed an ominous bank of fog rolling swiftly down the hillside to our left. Very soon we were swallowed up by it, but we kept on walking. It was quite dense, making it hard to see very far in front of us, even though it was still daylight. Dave started to get concerned, suggesting we stayed where we were, waiting for rescue. As we didn’t have a phone signal at our current location to call for help, I insisted we kept walking, knowing that if we kept heading north, we would eventually reach one of the many army tracks that encircled this part of the moor.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find one. Having stopped on a mound to check for phone reception, Dave couldn’t help himself; for, as we checked our phones, he continued to search for boxes under random rocks and, luckily enough, he found one which proved very useful. It was a stamp pertaining to an observation post, another product of the army’s presence on Dartmoor, one that we were actually standing on! I knew that these posts were sited not far from one of the military roads, and I wasn’t wrong. A few more yards and we were safe.

We followed the well-worn track back to the car park, where our concerned friend was waiting to whisk us off to join the rest back at the pub. Disaster averted, all thanks to a well-placed Letterbox!

The other significant fog story was a solo effort, again one Summer, on a long hike to Stingers Hill in the southern part of the moor, in sight of the iconic Redlake Tip.

I had parked near an old waterworks, as you could in those days, walked up the River Yealm, and headed across towards the Erme, finding some Letterboxes on the hillside. Satisfied with my haul, I turned back, intending to make my way down beside the Yealm. However, before I reached the head of the river, a fog came down, causing me to overshoot my route back. I didn’t realise I had gone off course until I saw the outcrops of the Trowlesworthy Tors looming up in front of me as the fog started to lift. I then realised I was on Lee Moor, near the clay works. As it was starting to get dark by now, I was faced with a choice: head back towards the Yealm and take my chances in the dark, or hit the tracks around the pits, reaching Cadover Bridge and following a route I would normally drive, instead walking it all the way back to where I’d left the car.

I took the sensible option, but to try and avoid adding more miles to my walk, I enquired at a handy hotel about the chances of getting a taxi back. I was advised that the closest available would be coming out of Plymouth, would take ages to get there and, consequently, would cost me. Stocking up on supplies, I resigned myself to my fate and continued walking the route I knew very well. I will always be grateful to the village of Cornwood, for back in those days their public toilets were left open all night, and I was able to make use of them after midnight.

I reached the car not too long after that and finally got home around 2am... not the adventure I’d intended, but certainly one I will never forget, thanks to the notorious Dartmoor fog.

I said I was looking forward to the return of warmer days for walking purposes, but even too much heat can have an adverse effect on well-made plans. Several times in recent years I’ve had to cut short a planned route. Continuous walking in blazing sunshine is tolerable with stops for water and refreshments, but whilst Letterboxing, it can involve walking around the same spot, looking under rocks, sometimes up and down a hillside, which can gradually take its toll, causing me to call it a day and take a quick route home.

I remember one such day, leading a Sunday group walk to Fur Tor. I had purposely planned it for around the Longest Day to give us more daylight hours, but I hadn’t factored in the heat. We’d parked at Postbridge and made our way across the unforgiving terrain under an equally unforgiving sun. Even with stops to get rehydrated, it proved too much for most people. We got as far as Cut Hill, with our goal of Fur Tor within touching distance, when everyone voted to turn back. That was a very frustrating day, but I’d rather do part of a walk in heat than no walk at all in this rainy weather!

Roll on the hazy, long days of Summer!