Mileaters on Tor

“I’ve never seen anything like it”, said the hotel manager. “It’s quite remarkable. A village away together on holiday. And you’re such a friendly witty bunch. You should write a book about it. It’s extraordinary”..

Well, maybe it doesn’t justify a book, but it certainly justifies a write-up in Valley and Valence. Every year, the Martinstown Mileaters walking group goes away for a three nights expedition to experience a new set of walks, as well as doing the eating that is such an integral part of the group’s name. This year twenty-nine members of the group, plus five dogs, made their way to Moretonhampstead on Dartmoor, which is only an hour and a half’s drive away if the traffic conditions are good… which they weren’t.

But it was the weather that was the real concern. The tail end of a hurricane that had caused havoc the other side of the Atlantic was scheduled to hit us on our second day, but as Alfred Wainwright (the patron saint of British walkers) once wrote, ““There's no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.” 

The weather for Walk One direct from our hotel and up to the cairns and stone circles overlooking the village was actually delightful, with blue skies and great visibility – though several members were unable to join because of important commitments in the village. But the weather for the second day’s walk, up on the moor itself needed several powerful adjectives, none of which were “delightful”. In the face of driving rain and gusting winds, allied with a general emotion of “what on earth are we doing”, we made our way up to Hay Tor, at which point one of our dogs chose to go missing. After some delay, it turned out that he had run back to the shelter of the visitor centre. Sensible dog. But we eventually persevered, the weather calmed a bit, and after a stunning walk of five miles, several Tors, a Medieval village, an extraordinary stone tramway, and the gorgeous sight of a Dartmoor Pony and her baby foal, we returned exhausted to our hotel – the White Hart.

The dismal weather meant we abandoned plans for walking on our second morning – though the afternoon walk along Fingle Gorge has to be one of the most delightful in the West Country. But the real key to the holiday was the company. As the hotel manager observed, the friendship and companionship was palpable. The hotel’s excellent staff did us proud, even tolerating our taking over the dining area for a wicked quiz on the final night – eventually won, after much good-humoured bickering by contestants, by our group’s esteemed President, Nick Priddle. As an Autumn break, we really couldn’t have asked for Moor.

David Haslam