Powsels & thrums

In which Tom tries not to fall on his bum

Statts House is not a Big House.

And off we go. Five weeks after Borrowdale was such a pain in the arse, it’s time to start plodding (carefully) round the Dartmoor Runners winter series.

From the Warren House Inn it was over to the forest and along the edge of it. While I could see some other figures taking detours, I decided that today would be a straight line day.

Up a hill, and I edged a bit of determination in quite early on; part of my new plan is to work a little harder in races like this, rather than hiding in the thinking that it’s long distance so I must be slow. Some good grassy downhill then, to control number one. This was at the source of a stream, which doesn’t mean a nice bubbly spring or anything, just a bog-with-a-sense-of-purpose.

Over from there to the ruin of Statts House, and a hideous tussocky lurch around the edge of Sittaford Tor to get there. Halfway along, I stumbled (yes) across a path leading to the top of the tor, and decided the long way might be shorter, and followed the path to where it was going rather than where I wanted to be.

Part of the point to the detour was that I hoped there would be some sort of path from the top across to Winney’s Down, rather than another tussock-fight. As it was, my sense of direction forgot about my earlier thinking on straight lines, and I managed a spectacular if ineffective dog-leg that picked out tussocks that themselves had tussocks on top. I was right though; there was a good path from Sittaford Tor and across. I know this because it was plainly visible in the distance when I looked back across my own lurchy route.

Over from Statts House then to Hartland Tor, sploshing through some more stream sources before a whooshy descent and a good hard run along solid paths before some gorse trampling to get to the top and control three, which was cunningly hidden in plain view. Took me a couple of minutes to find it, but once I’d realised it was a big orange and white flag stuck in the middle of a big rock, I was fine.

Too much road over to control four in the woods at Soussons Down, (but that was my choice on how to get there), and too many trees once I arrived. Unusually for a plantation though, the tracks and rides were where the map said they were, and it was just my legs that were limiting me now. What was nice though, was that I was near a pair who were running stronger than me, but were taking longer to navigate because of joint decision-making. When there’s just the one of you, the arguments are quicker, even if your legs aren’t.

And that was just about it, then, out of the woods, and through the heather, and up the hill for a little lie-down before coming home to take assorted enfs to feed assorted types of bread to a range of swans and seagulls pretending to be ducks.

I like Sundays.