Day 11 Drake's Trail (Tuesday Jun. 4)

Tuesday morning, as we creaked downstairs, we decided that scheduling the easier bike ride for the second day had much to recommend it.  In the spirit of moderation, we persuaded Dave (much against his inclination) to serve us a more modest breakfast, strolled down to the bike shop to confirm to Martin that we wanted to keep the bikes for a second day, and then climbed stiffly back aboard and set off in the other direction. 

The cycle route took us down along the river and past through a few back streets, and we were swiftly able to pick up Drake's Trail, a lovely, mostly traffic free cycle route that goes from Tavistock to Plymouth on the coast. 

Drake's Trail

Gem Bridge on Drake's Trail

We had planned a rather shorter ride, however, and turned off the trail to find Buckland Abbey.  Buckland Abbey was first- as you'd guess from the name- a religious community and later the home of Sir Francis Drake of oceangoing fame. 

Buckland Abbey

The gardens and grounds of the Abbey were magnificent.

One of the most impressive structures was the Great Barn- a truly vast space. 

The roof is held up by massive beams, and there are no supports on the interior- the whole thing is about 3 stories high, and completely open inside.

In the house, some rooms were furnished in a style that Drake would have recognized, while others were devoted to museum exhibits, including the famous drum, said to sound by itself when Britain is in danger.  (It wasn't making any noise when we saw it- presumably it recognized that we were no threat.)  In the kitchens, they had cookies in costume preparing period meals- it smelled wonderful!

 

We had lunch at the pleasant café at the Abbey, and then cycled back in good time to return our bicycles, pick up our backpacks, and take a bus to Plymouth.   Plymouth had- as you would expect- a lovely waterfront and fine harbor. 

There is a magnificent statue to honor Drake there.  And I obtained some restorative tea and had a snack while JT wandered off.  (Lunch had been tasty but not large.)

 

After satisfying our curiosity about Plymouth, we boarded a train headed south into Cornwall, and the penultimate phase of our trip.  We got off in Truro, and ate dinner at the hotel (on the grounds we were too hungry to look further).  The hotel was the County Arms, and despite its name was quite modern and well-appointed, including free Wi-Fi, which we hadn't had since Exeter.

Truro

After dinner, we took a quick stroll around town to get our bearings.  The sidewalks, as we had come to expect in smaller cities, were tidily rolled up for the night, but the streets were pleasant, and we returned to the hotel more than ready to spend some time being horizontal. 

Day 10 Two-Wheeling (Monday Jun. 3)

Our first morning in Tavistock dawned bright and clear, and once we had sought instruction in the operation of the electric shower (it turns out there was an unobtrusive switch outside the bathroom that needed to be in the on position before it could get power), we were ready to tackle breakfast.  Which, since it was a full English breakfast of astonishing size, required our full attention.    I should mention here that our hosts, Dave and Julie, were delightful and hospitable hosts, and we highly recommend their charming inn.    Only you might want to be a little cautious about telling Dave (a fine cook) that you're hungry. 

Thoroughly stuffed, we waddled off to Tavistock Cycles, which to our delight opened at 9 am, instead of the more usual 10, and hired cycles for the day.  To our further delight, a 'day hire' meant returning them the following morning, so we wouldn't have to hustle to return by closing time.    Martin, the proprietor, (who observed our somewhat pudgy middle-aged physiques and lack of Serious Cycling Gear) gave us some excellent advice on the routes--  which we failed to give much consideration, as we already had A Plan.    It would no doubt have been far more sensible to have taken the advice and chosen destinations that were less ambitious.  However we make up in sheer bloodymindedness what we lack in fitness, so we set out without any serious qualms, following the excellently marked bike routes.  

Our chosen route led us up out of the Tavy River valley, through woodsy paths, and along country lanes lined with wildflower-covered hedgerows.

We cycled along the edge of Dartmoor- quite literally, as one side of the road rose up in sere amber tones to barren hilltops, while the other dipped down, painted with lush green fields and trees.    It was like someone had cut out two vastly dissimilar pieces of landscape and pasted a road down along the join. 

We made steady progress north-northwestward, and cycled down into the steeply wooded Lydford Gorge.   We stopped for  a cold drink there, before tackling the long slow slog up out of the gorge to reach the Granite Way, a rail trail once used for hauling the products of quarries to the coast for shipment.

Meldon Quarry

What we had failed to notice, however, was that the Granite Way route was not actually complete.  There was a chunk missing (where they eventually intend to replace a bridge over the main road) and the marked route led us down (and down, and down) into the charming little village of Bridestowe.  Which would have been a darned sight more charming if we hadn't been so conscious that we were going to have to cycle back up to the ridge.  

But we eventually worked our way back up to the second section of the Granite Way, which featured marvelous views, a gentle grade, and a pathside bike store (Devon Cycle Hire) with ice cream and cold drinks.

Thus fortified, we finished our ride to the town of Okehampton.

Okehampton isn't large, but has a railroad station and a pleasant town center.  We found to our bemusement that bicycle parking was 'at the pigs'.

We found lunch at a local place called Marion's,  and visited the Museum of Dartmoor Life.    The museum focused on the trades of the area- farming, quarrying, the famous prison.    I most enjoyed a collection of home movies, made in the mid-twentieth century by a local farmer.  He was apparently an enthusiastic amateur, and owned one of the first color movie cameras in the area.  There was a good deal of fascinating footage of traditional farming methods, how the equipment worked, along with all of the family members pitching in.

By then it was time to admire the public art, retrieve our bicycles and head back to Tavistock. 

The ride back was every bit is gorgeous as the ride out, and thanks to a tip from another cyclist, we were able to take a short cut between the two parts of the Granite Way that did not involve a return detour through Bridestowe.

We locked our bikes back at the inn and enjoyed some more of Dave's cooking in the pub.   Then--in an effort to relax our rapidly stiffening muscles-- we took a turn around the center of Tavistock.   JT had apparently not had enough hills yet, and we walked a few steep streets up, and came back down a long pedestrian stair.    And then we went back to the inn to sleep like the dead on our last night in Tavistock.

Day 9 Dartmoor (Sunday Jun. 2)

Bright and early we left the hotel carrying our packs, and took a farewell ramble through Exeter on our way to the bus station.  We said goodbye to the cathedral and the cathedral close. 

We walked through a covered arcade, and found a courtyard market, which we were sad not to have found earlier, as they were cooking and it smelled wonderful.  We found street art and intriguing streets we hadn't explored and were in general quite sorry to leave. 

But, we had a plan.  Sunday was the one day a week that there was bus service across Dartmoor, and so we went.   The bus went across the moor, came back to the midpoint, returned the far side, and then came back to Exeter, and we had built our schedule around that, so we had to be on time.   Our first stop was the little town of Postbridge, home to a thirteenth century stone bridge across the river Dart- which was a lot smaller than when we first saw it at Greenway!

We had another lovely day, and after getting lunch at the tiny convenience store and café at the center of town (where 'town' means half a dozen buildings surrounded by fields and an occasional farmhouse), we ventured up to the Dartmoor National Park Visitor Center.  This was a very small affair, but we took a quick look around and got a hiking map for the several walks surrounding it.  The moorland was amazing.  After the green and verdant landscapes we'd become accustomed to, the windswept and treeless moors were like another planet.

It is a landscape of dry grass and stone walls, rolling hills crowned with rocky tors and occasional trickles of water in the creases of the land.

Despite being still quite close to the road and village, the place had an incredibly desolate feel.

It was easy to picture prisoners escaped from the famous prison wandering lost or imagine the hound of the Baskervilles howling in the wind.  It was also easy to lose the path amidst the grass and rocks and we kept a careful eye on the map and the clock, making sure we didn't stray.  

We came back via the little store- a place that had location, location, location going for it- and acquired some cold drinks before walking back up the hill to catch the bus on its second and last westerly trip.    When we got off the second time in Princetown, we were committed to the second half of our plan which involved a long walk.    But first we visited the High Moorland Visitor Centre in Princetown, another of the nice small museums that the British do so well.  After enjoying the exhibits, we dared not linger- there was a rail trail from Princetown to Yelverton, on the west side of the moor, where we could get bus service the rest of the way to our destination in Tavistock, but it was already nearly 4 pm. 

We'd been on our feet a while at that point, so I put on a second pair of socks for the extra padding, we got some snacks to sustain us, and off we went.   The rail trail was the path of the old Dartmoor Railway, which was used for hauling granite down to the coast. 

Dartmoor Railway Rail Trail

It paralleled the road but was much flatter, something we appreciated.  We made good time westward, but were still grateful for the long June daylight of summer- in this latitude sundown would not be until after 9, giving us plenty of time to walk.    We saw horses and miniature Dartmoor ponies grazing along the route, hillside farms, and the impressive rocky hillsides that characterized the landscape.

Toward the end of the afternoon, the track continued downhill, and the landscape became greener until we emerged on a back road in Dousland.  We were charmed by signs for (and a little sorry we couldn't visit) the aptly named town of Walkhampton, but at that point we were starting to run out of steam.  There were a few jokes early on about continuing the walk to Tavistock, but we were more than happy to see the Yelverton bus stop when we found it. 

We got into Tavistock as the sun was getting lower, and found our hotel without too much trouble.  The only difficulty?  The hotel bar was closed on Sunday, and a sign on the door gave us a phone number to call for guests.  We looked at each other in dismay- our phones don't work outside the US.  We walked back to the town center, which had its sidewalks tightly wrapped for the night, and with some assistance from a native, located a pay phone.   Our hosts were happy to let us in and direct us to a quite pleasant Indian restaurant for dinner- and left a window open so they could hear us yell a greeting when we returned.