May to June - Dartmoor memories

"Vust er rained then er blawed
Then er ailed, then er snawed
Then er comed a shower of rain
Then er vruz and blawed again"


This is a very neat demotic encapsulation of the Dartmoor climate. I lived and hunted on Dartmoor for some years in my youth. "The Moor" made a huge impression on me. It was and is an impressive place, you could love it or hate it (I sometimes managed both), but it demanded respect. You do not mess with the Dartmoor bogs - "the Stuggy".
In case you are wondering why everything in Devon seems to be female, "Er" is the Anglo Saxon word for "it". At the time when I lived there, Dartmoor was still a wild place. You could ride or walk all day and never see another human. The Crown of the Moor is one huge sponge from which all the rivers flow "Taw and "Torridge, Okement, Dart - these are the rivers of my heart" - this is "The Stuggy", the bogs which do require great respect. For best you need to find the crossing places of the wild ponies, they really know "The Moor".
I have before me a hand-drawn map of the "Stuggy". It was drawn by a man who had worked as a carpenter at Devonport dockyard. When he retired he was hired as a "Moorman" by the then Master of the Dartmoor Hounds, he used to walk the Moor in the Summer and check out the paths. Where maintenance was necessary, he would dig out a drain and put in a cundy made out of Elm planking as Elm does not rot. When I rode the Moor back in the early sixties, many of the drains were still maintained and rideable (with care). The map has advice and warnings scribbled on it in a spidery hand - "Bad Ground" between Shavercombe and Green Hill - which has "BAD GROUND" in capital, bold letters. One I remember with great feeling was Black Lane, which ran from Green Hill to Swincombe Head. This path was across a green bog, it floated - and as you rode along it, it undulated. The path was about 3 foot wide and as you passed along it, the green scummy pools would wink at you and ask you to join them - a foot off the path and that was your lot. I have seen horses so badly stugged out there that they had to be shot. Once (and if) you got through Black Lane and onto Swincombe Head you were back onto "Good Ground" again and I always heaved a sigh of relief. I do not know what this bit of the Moor is like now.
But Dartmore has always required respect. There is an old saying that on "Exmoor you can ride anyway except where you can't". On "Dartmoor you can't ride anyway, except where you can" - requires Respect.
There were no motor roads across my end of the Moor. This did not worry me too much except that my best squeeze lived on a farm on the other side - 25 miles by road. The distance did not worry me, but the fact that petrol had just gone to 3 shillings and 9pence a gallon did. But by the crow, the Squeeze lived only 15 miles away; I could ride across the Moor, but it meant crossing Black Lane. I remember coming back down Black Lane in a fog and about 100 yards visibility - it was ticklish. As I came onto sound ground, a big dog fox jumped out of a rusher bed - I gave him a good "View Holloa"
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Message to Henry Hutchins (Plymouth):

Dear Henry - of course I remember you, it was all a long time ago. I am 71 now and you must have had a very active life - all those marriages - I am still on the first:
Sorry I can't eMail as my machine is wobbling, but very nice to hear from you. As you can see I now live in Normandy, but have never forgotten Dartmoor. Please give my best to J Hoare.
Well cheerio my Handsome,
All the Best, Willy Poole