No, we didn’t walk from Beeson to Widecombe in the Moor where Tom Pearce was persuaded to lend people his grey Mare. Our Widdicombe was the cause of our devious route to the coast for it was the grand house and farm that didn’t allow walkers to use the drive – which, when all is said and done, is not a public footpath.
Our route was along the vaguely purple line, starting and finishing at the camp site shown at Cotmore.
It was uphill, gently at first but later it was quite a climb.
The footpath was much like a Devon Lane – a route between very steep banks, mostly made of rock.
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Primroses there were, aplenty and also the big leaves that might struggle to get light as the leaves grew on the tree canopy up above.
There was a stream to ford – not a major problem and then it was on up the gentle slope.
I like the leaves but I don’t know what they are. There’s a different world in these shady hollows.
Bluebells jostled for space with bracken.
The path wound gently up with sycamore leaves adding a fresh new spring greenness.
The tops of the growing ferns (if that is what they are) looked like seahorses.
A pretty pink flower. Surely I should know what that is.
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We reached a gate having passed a very slimy looking stone.
Our path took us across the farm track to Widdicombe – the one not dedicated to the public. There were stables there but the horses were not interested in me. They knew where the food was coming from.
The openness as we crossed the track let us see a bit of view.
After quite a walk – now on the steep uphill, we were probably not much more than a quarter of a mile from our tent. In the centre background we can see Kingsbridge, sprawling up over its hillside.
We were now quite well above Beeson and in for a surprising bit of walk next.
