"Scorhill Stone In Thick Deep Mist, Dartmoor, UK" & "Gidleigh Wood Folly, Dartmoor, UK" (c) 2013 Stu Jenks
I
read Shelagh's map. I thought I knew the way to Scorhill Circle. I did
not. I got lost in Gidleigh Wood. Or rather, as Daniel Boone once said,
"I've never been lost but I've been a might bewildered." That I was.
Yet sometimes when I get lost, I find wonders. I found a folly that evening, a Victorian building built for no particular use other than to employ the manor's workers. I asked around. Oddly, no one except one person knew of this folly. It seemed I wandered onto private land. Oops. One person said if was where two mad sisters lived a hundred years ago who only ate snails. The Snail Sisters. OK.
I retraced my steps and eventually found my way to the Scorhill Circle. Socked in deep mist, long exposure night photography was out for the mist coated my lens. Disappointed? Only a little. I sat on a nearby fall stone, had a smoke, and prayed in the dimming light and the thick damp mist. It was a very good walk in spite of a very large little toe blister I produced that hobbled me the rest of the trip. It was worth it.
In Tucson again. Wind blowing hard. I love the wind. But I'd be lying if I didn't say I long for mist. Thick deep mist.
Some people leave their hearts in San Francisco. I left a part of mine in Dartmoor. I may have to return to get that piece back or leave more heart there. I haven't decided yet. Leaning toward the latter.
Yet sometimes when I get lost, I find wonders. I found a folly that evening, a Victorian building built for no particular use other than to employ the manor's workers. I asked around. Oddly, no one except one person knew of this folly. It seemed I wandered onto private land. Oops. One person said if was where two mad sisters lived a hundred years ago who only ate snails. The Snail Sisters. OK.
I retraced my steps and eventually found my way to the Scorhill Circle. Socked in deep mist, long exposure night photography was out for the mist coated my lens. Disappointed? Only a little. I sat on a nearby fall stone, had a smoke, and prayed in the dimming light and the thick damp mist. It was a very good walk in spite of a very large little toe blister I produced that hobbled me the rest of the trip. It was worth it.
In Tucson again. Wind blowing hard. I love the wind. But I'd be lying if I didn't say I long for mist. Thick deep mist.
Some people leave their hearts in San Francisco. I left a part of mine in Dartmoor. I may have to return to get that piece back or leave more heart there. I haven't decided yet. Leaning toward the latter.
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