By: Blonde Two
Dartmoor was looking less than friendly when I went up to visit her yesterday; not friendly, but quite magnificently moody. I was book delivering and stopped first at the Haytor Visitor Centre car park (our books are available in the shop but would get soggy in the car park).
I got out to take a photo (which sadly captured more mood than magnificence) and immediately regretted not bringing my walking boots. It was the sort of Dartmoor day that lets you know, in no uncertain terms, with banging drums, honking sousaphones and frill-clad cheerleaders, that you are alive.
It was all a bit mysterious because, although there were lots of cars around, I couldn’t see any walkers. That is, I couldn’t until I was back in the truck and driving towards the higher car park. Then I spotted him; Mr Lone Red Man; battling, map and compass in hand, up the hill.
He had my instant admiration and understanding. I wanted to stop the truck again, stand on the roof and applaud his arrival at the top of the hill. Luckily for both of us, I chose instead to drive on past. I have never climbed onto the top of our truck, and the day was far to windy for a maiden flight!
I will never find out who Mr Lone Red Man is; but I hope that he had a fabulous time, found all of the Dartmoor features that he was looking for, and arrived safely back home with his cheeks and heart glowing.
