Peer
Gynt Suite – Morning [Grieg]
A lovely night spent sleeping in the almost
collapsed tent on a very private, yet adjacent to a noisy main road, public
footpath ended at dawn. Frost and sunrise, a beautiful combination, morning had
broken, meant that there was a cobalt, thrush-egg blue sky and a whisper of
wind as I peered out from the front of the disheveled tent. Looking through
the branches and twigs of the surrounding hedgerow trees I could see the amber sun
rising over the nearby millpond sea.
Once everything was packed away, it took no
time at all to cycle up the incline to Labrador Bay RSPB Reserve. This
was a new RSPB reserve for me and not on my reserve itinerary. In fact I had only
found out about the reserve a few days earlier. The view from the large reserve
car park adjacent to the road, was worth the stop in itself. Purchased especially
for Cirl Buntings, the reserve, being on a steep slope with a variety of fields
containing a variety of crops, as well as grassy slopes partitioned by mature
hedgerows and large trees, looked beautiful and the sea, viewed from here, was
calm and shimmering.
Now this was more like it. Birding in the cold early morning and as I walked towards a cereal field, a Cirl Bunting [145] was singing.
I settled down onto a large log cut down as part of the management
work here and soon had close views of a pair of these splendid birds. I then walked
around the same field and down the cliff path to a viewpoint where three
Gannets, a Fulmar, two Shags and a Great Northern Diver [146] were the
only birds seen either on or over the sea. A lovely, low trail of sea fog was creeping
into the bay from the north via the Exe Estuary and a Kittiwake flew past with
a few Herring Gulls. There may not have been many birds but the views were
wonderfully picturesque.
I cycled on to Newton Abbot and had new brake
pads fitted. I realised that I needed new ones when I was required to use my
boots scraping on the road in order to slow me down whilst careering down a
very steep hill. I managed to stop just before a set of red traffic lights at
the bottom of the hill. I swear there was smoke coming from the soles of my
feet! No, I am not one of those cyclists who go through red lights no matter
what the circumstances.
Out of Newton Abbot, the peace of the day,
whilst I negotiated a road with a steep climb heading towards Dartmoor’s
heights, was disturbed by an out of control horse galloping past me, going in
the same direction up the hill. The poor frightened creature disappeared from
view and a few moments later a young girl struggling for breath came running up
to me. Together we went up the hill, found that the poor frightened animal had
stopped because of a cattle grid that denoted the start of the moor. A car had
gone past the horse, I was told, too fast and had actually sounded its horn at
the animal in order to get past. The panicked horse had thrown the girl and
bolted. The whole incident was a shock and it is a surprise to me as to how
selfish and dangerous people can be.
The next few miles were spent enjoying the moor with its gnarled silhouetted trees, lichen-covered dry stone walls and Dartmoor ponies. Interesting streams and stone bridges were all photographed as I made terribly slow progress towards the next youth hostel near Postbridge. A distant view of a red procession stopped my countryside appreciation reverie.
Here were fox hunters, vile, craven people imo, in all their regalia, riding horses with a large number
of hounds coming down the lane towards me.
Now maybe it is me but I hate foxhunting and would love to see their vile, supposedly illegal practises stopped. Yet here I was passed by them and a couple of the riders even said hello. Without going into the issue too deeply, let me just say that the hunting of any animal that would not, when dead, be used as food is abhorrent to me and to enjoy the murder of an animal in such a way is an obscenity. Sociopaths!
On reaching the youth hostel, after a quick wash and a coffee, I went for a walk out into the dark to listen to the silence of no cars. Wonderful isolation with only the sound of a gentle wind through nearby conifers and the sight of the stars above. A thought that entered my head as I lay me down to sleep that night; how do Mergansers find their food in the soup that is the Exe Estuary water?
22.4 miles
2,369 feet up 1,719 feet down
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