By: Blonde Two
We Blondes know Dartmoor fairly well but it will always be able to show us things that take our breath away.
For me, this week’s surprise was the waterfall on the East Dart. Blonde One has visited it before but, like Sittaford Tor, up to now, it has evaded me. On Sunday afternoon, I set out with my sister to find it.
It was a dampish and typically Dartmoorish day. The moor got gradually wilder and wetter underfoot as we climbed out of Postbridge. A quick picnic at the top of the hill proved to us that there was a chill in the air.
As we approached the river valley, I realised that this section of the East Dart was wilder and more rugged than its close counterpart further downstream. The boulders were large and dark and had fallen in strange positions that suggested unearthly forces. An angry giant maybe, intent on throwing his weight around.
Further upstream, the waterfall itself was a marvellous sight. It dropped about two metres but didn’t do so in one big fall; it took subtle paths, over slabs, around boulders and even through a natural rill. The sound of the water was mesmerising and gave a sense of longevity. How many generations of walkers have sat and listened to it’s mellow ring?
We couldn’t linger long as the afternoon light was starting to fade. I shall definitely be returning, with a tent, a torch and something good to read.