By: Blonde Two

Yesterday, the Two Blondes had a lovely reunion.  We had breakfast at the fabulous Foxtor Cafe and then it was out onto Dartmoor which was looking green and lush in the sunshine with its deep coat of bracken.  We both remembered how to lace our boots and I only nearly fell over a couple of times which is good for me.  By the time we had walked up to Eylesbarrow, counted the boundary stones that weren’t on the map and sat down for a flask stop, we were feeling on top of the world – the Two Blondes were back, they knew what to do, they were in charge.


Or so we thought – Dartmoor, it emerged had other ideas and was keen to teach us a bit of a Blonde lesson.  Anyone who has spent any time up on Dartmoor will know that bewildered feeling that you get when the weather swings from sunshine to rain and back again faster than you can don your waterproofs.  Well, yesterday, Dartmoor did a most excellent job of inducing that confusion and, at the same time, asserting it’s control over the situation.

The weather waited until we had sat down for lunch in the sunshine at Drizzlecombe (the clue really is in the name here!) before it turned on the rain.  Blonde One worked out that she hadn’t been in rain for at least six weeks but did manage to put her coat on correctly.  I, who had seen fairly big rain in New Zealand, sat with mine over my knees and got wet shoulders (probably something to do with living upside down for a month).

Hailstorm Brewing

We eventually sorted ourselves out, got our waterproofs on properly and carried on walking.  I peaked too early, maybe lulled into a false sense of security by a distant but very fat rainbow and took mine off again half an hour later.  It was then that Dartmoor, not satisfied with her (clearly a woman) earlier warning, decided to throw ice at us out of the sky.

At this point, both Blondes had to admit defeat and acknowledge that Dartmoor was, indeed the big boss.  I had been expecting a warm welcome back but clearly we were getting telling off for being away for so long and a not so gentle reminder of what was ahead of us over the coming winter.  It didn’t spoil our walk, in fact, Blonde One was heard to say how happy putting her hood up, shoving her hands in her pockets and huddling against the wind made her feel.  It was, however a timely reminder that Dartmoor is a wild environment, will always surprise and (like a good Blonde) has a mind of her own!