Tag Archives: Bodmin Moor

Goodbye Dog Days of Summer

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OK I admit it, I’ve not been out on two wheels anywhere near enough in recent weeks!

I’m not over worried about the lack of bike action though. I had to smile to myself yesterday when the latest copy of HOG, Harley Owners Group, magazine dropped through the Dookes letterbox and the editorial commented that this year’s  “Riding Season” was coming to a close.

I’m sure that I have previously mentioned, to me there is no defined “Riding Season.” I ride all year round, whenever I can get out. It’s just about having the right gear and more importantly the right mental attitude and the commitment to clean the bike off afterwards…!

As I said in my last post, life has been busy and just as if I needed reminding to slow up a bit my body has done it for me. A torn Achilles tendon and a mild kidney infection have slowed me up nicely and given some badly needed time for recharging the old Dookes batteries. I do feel a bit of a fraud though, my mate leukaemia battling G is back in hospital and considerably more poorly than I am; here’s thinking of you fella.

Sadly, summer in the Northern Hemisphere is beginning to wind down; shadows are getting longer and the nights are noticeably drawing in. We’ve still been enjoying plenty of good weather though, all is not yet mists and leaf-fall, but the dog days are certainly gone for another year.

In our garden at Dookes HQ we have a delightful raised bed planted full of various types of mint. It’s useful as a herb for cooking, but at this time of year I love it because the flowers acts as a magnet to butterflies and bees.  This summer the butterfly population of Cornwall has been noticeably depleted, possibly this is a result of our mild wet winter last year, so its been great to see at least some of our residents topping up their nectar levels on our mint blossom. On a glorious morning the other day I grabbed a camera and stalked the butterflies for a few minutes, I must say that I am quite pleased with the results!

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This rather lovely Small Tortoiseshell (Aglais ureicae) caught my eye with its dazzling colours. This is one species that has suffered a worrying decline in recent years, particularly in the South of our country. One theory is that is being attacked by a parasitic fly, whose range is spreading due to global warning. It’s still one of our most widespread butterflies and occurs throughout the British Isles. I just glad it chose our garden!

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Looking at the photos, I think that they might be two  different butterflies as the wing pattern doesn’t seem the same in both photos. I am, however, very pleased with the results and I hope you like them.

“What it’s like to walk amongst butterflies.”

Catch you soon.

Dookes

 

Out in the Country

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Every morning at Dookes H.Q. the alarm goes off and persistently calls us out of our comfortable slumber at the crack of dawn every day, yes that’s right, every day! You see our alarm takes the form of three working cocker spaniels; Deltic, Bethany and Bluebell. Without fail, as soon as the light of day gets to a certain level, our four legged friends decide that it’s time to get out of bed and burst into song to join in with the dawn chorus! 
Yes, sometimes it’s a real pain to drag out of a cosy bed, but other days it’s a treat to be outside as the new day gets going. Today was one of those mornings that took my breath away; it was a little bit hazy but had the promise of a good day ahead. Things have sort of got to me over the last few days so I took the opportunity to get a few jobs out of the way and then enjoy some “me time.” 


Now before I get someone saying that taking early retirement is pretty much wall to wall “me time,” let me assure you it ain’t! I just needed a bit of space to get my head reset and yes, it was going to involve riding Harley. 

Actually I had a funny little job to do first. Some time ago I was given a couple of large cobble stones that a former neighbour had picked up on a local beach. The two stones have sat incongruously in our garden for a year or so and every time I’ve walked past them they have began to look more and more out of place; if stones could look sad these did! I knew that they were picked up from Widemouth Bay, so after loading them in Harls’ panniers that’s where we went and repatriated my two pre-Cambrian friends on the beach with their brothers and sisters! You know, it made me feel pretty good too, daft eh?

After riding literally thousands of miles on Baby Blue in recent months, it was really back to basics on Harls; less power, less brakes, less comfort, more wind, more noise….I love it! 

I stuck to the back roads and apart from the odd tractor didn’t see any traffic, with no time constraint it was blissful riding at its best!

There’s been a lot of pretty heavy things processed in the Dookes brain of late and a ride like this was just what I needed. 

Nearing home I couldn’t resist a little diversion to Treburland Bridge on the infant River Lynher. This delightful place is only two miles from the front door of Dookes H.Q., but it’s been a couple of years since I’ve been down the twisting narrow lane that fords the water here. Just a few yards upstream and flanked by the last of the spring bluebells, stands the clapper bridge that gives the place it’s name. 

Clapper bridges are ancient structures often found on Dartmoor, Exmoor and of course here on Bodmin Moor. The bridge is formed by large flat slabs of local stone, here it’s granite, supported on stone piers and resting on the banks. Goodness knows how many centuries this bridge has stood here and how many feet have trod those worn slabs of rock.
It’s just the sort of place to sit, gather your thoughts, breath in the fresh clean air and just enjoy the moment. With the river gently burbling over the ford, a billion gossamer winged willow seeds drifting around on the slack breeze and the tang of wild garlic in the air, it really was quite enchanting and certainly uplifting. What else would you expect it to do for a country boy like me?


You know, it gave me an idea. . . 

I do believe that it is time for a road trip!

Stick around, this is going to get interesting!

“Why don’t you tell them what you’re gonna do? Do anything you wanna do.”

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Photo101: Landscape & Cropping

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Hello Blogonaughts!

For today’s challenge/assignment for the Photo101 course I thought that I couldn’t be happier, but then I got thinking, again.

OK, the self-imposed rule is that I’m taking new photos for the course. That rules out a whole bunch of mountain views from around the world, just gotta get out on a bike and take some fresh pictures!

Now many of you people will have seen my photos from around the area where I live, Bodmin Moor in Cornwall UK. Living in such a lovely place I have to admit that I am more than a little spoilt for views to point my camera at and often I tend to return to favourite places. So today just as a treat to myself I went of to a small corner on the extreme Eastern edge of the Moor, somewhere I haven’t visited for a few years, even though it is only about four miles from Dookes H.Q. as the crow flies.

I hope you like what I managed to get. I couldn’t resist a bit of cropping on one shot and turning it monochrome. . . it just seemed to cry out for that treatment!

Kilmer Tor, imposing and forbidding.

Kilmar Tor, imposing and forbiding.


Hawks Tor, wild hard country.

Hawks Tor, wild hard country.


Hawks Tor monochrome.

Hawks Tor monochrome.


Kit Hill and the Lynher Vale.

Kit Hill and the Lynher Vale.


A Harley in the spring landscape.

A Harley in the spring landscape.

I had a lovely morning grabbing these shots, even better was riding my fine Harley friend along the way!

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Photo101: Scale and Observation.

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Hello everyone.
Today’s assignment nearly beat me. Not because I couldn’t find anything to shoot; no I couldn’t find an end result that I liked! Am I getting too picky?

I tried little model motorbikes perched on the fender of one of my Harleys. Ants climbing over pebbles. Golf balls, tennis balls, rugby balls. I couldn’t stand any of them.

Time to get out on two wheels and find some inspiration!

A gentle trundle around the Northern edge of Bodmin Moor took me to the old air-base at Davidstow. I’ve blogged about this place in the past, it’s one of my favourite locations to go for a bit of fresh air and thinking space.

Thinking space on a Harley.

Thinking space on a Harley.

I can palpably feel history in the air here, but apart from the ghosts of the past and the odd walker the only other inhabitants are the sheep. . . and that’s when I got an idea!

Looking West I could see there were some sheep enjoying the last of the evening sunshine and they were nicely silhouetted on a small hummock.

Spot the sheep!

Spot the sheep!


I hope that this shot gives some idea of the wide open space that is Davidstow and puts a form of scale to the view!

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Photo101: Architecture & Monochrome

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I didn’t have to look very far to find inspiration for today’s assignment.

Sitting high up in a remote and wild corner of Bodmin Moor lies the World Heritage Site of Caradon Mining District; it’s only about fifteen miles away from Dookes H.Q..

The granite massif of Caradon Hill rises above the surrounding moorland and its slopes are strewn with the noble remains of a once mighty industry. In the 1840’s this area became of the greatest copper producing regions in the world, but within 50 years the boom time had passed and the mines fell into terminal decline.

Today the evidence of those golden years can still be found in the landscape, tips of waste rock and long disused tramways have now become as much part of the Cornish landscape as the ancient moors themselves. The industrial architecture and archeology is now treasured as part of a distinct Cornish identity.

I love walking amongst these ruins, interpreting their original purposes and just simply admiring their simple yet regal architecture; these were buildings built to do a serious job. They also make great subjects for photography, particularly in monochrome!

This is the engine house for the Houseman’s Shaft at South Wheal Phoenix Mine. In it’s day this mine produced nearly a quarter of a million tons of copper ore.

South Caradon Mine

South Wheal Phoenix Mine

Through the arch window, South Wheal Phoenix Mine.

Through the arch window, South Wheal Phoenix Mine.


About a quarter of a mile to the North East stands the ruins of Phoenix United mine. This mine had a charmed existence because by 1864 its copper reserves had all but run out, it had already produced about 200,000 tons, but then large tin deposits were discovered beneath the copper lode and the mine switched to tin production!
Phoenix United Mine

Phoenix United Mine


From 1865 to 1897 the mine was producing around 30,000 tones of tin per year. This engine house was one of the last constructed in Cornwall, in 1907. It was hoped that by sinking the shaft to a depth of 1200 feet that further reserves would be found, but sadly it proved fruitless and by the beginning of 1914 the mine had closed.

I hope you enjoy these photo’s as much as I did taking them.

If you ever visit the area please stick to the paths and don’t climb over fences, there are some very deep uncovered old mine-shafts out there!

Catch you soon,

Dookes

Photo 101: Connect

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Hi there people!

It’s been a busy day here in sunny Cornwall and what with flying around enjoying myself on one of the bikes, Baby to be precise, I nearly forgot to take some photos for today’s assignment!

Fortunately the fine weather is set to continue for the week and the light was still good enough at six thirty this evening for me to grab the shot.

In the relatively remote spot where Dookes H.Q. is located on the edge of Bodmin Moor in Cornwall, our connection to the outside world can sometimes be a bit fragile. We have no mains gas, no mains drainage and our electricity is supplied along these slender cables; a couple of times this winter they have fallen, cutting us off from the power grid.

It pays to keep an emergency generator ready!

Connect

Connect

Stay connected!

Dookes

Photo101: Solitude & The Rule of Thirds

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Today dawned bright, crisp, slightly frosty and very sunny. Just the weather for getting out on two wheels in search of today’s assignment.

As I bowled along on Harls enjoying the lovely morning it did occur to me that this was the perfect embodiment of Solitude, at least for me! The trouble is that to capture that moment in a decent photograph would be I feel nearly impossible.

Now worries though, I was heading for one of my special little spots where solitude comes easily.

This is the young River Fowey high on Bodmin Moor and not very far from it’s source. I love sitting here on the river bank just taking in the total serenity of the place. Small trout and salmon dart in the quick clear water, Dippers busily search along the pebbles and if you are blessed, the bright turquoise flash of a Kingfisher may catch your eye. You have to sit still for hours though to spot an otter, but they are here!

My place of Solitude: River Fowey on Bodmin Moor

My place of Solitude: River Fowey on Bodmin Moor

Yes you can sit in solitude, but at the same time you have to share that place with the real local inhabitants.

Dookes

PS Fowey is pronounced “Foy.”

Simple Things

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Sometimes it’s the simple things that make me smile.
No, let me correct that, it’s always the simple things that make me smile!

Take for example last Friday.

My old mate G, who you may recall is currently undergoing chemo-therapy for a particularly nasty form of leukaemia, though what form isn’t nasty, called me up and asked if I fancied getting out on two wheels. Do bears crap in the woods? Yeah, of course I was up for a trundle around on the bikes!

One thing you have to understand about my mate G, is that if he didn’t have bad luck he would have no luck at all. Having to endure regular sessions of Chemo-Therapy is rough enough, but the previous weekend G got knocked off his motorbike by an elderly lady in a car who jumped a red light and didn’t stop!
Fortunately G got off pretty lightly with only some bumps and bruises, mostly testament to wearing good protective gear, his Triumph Tiger was similarly lucky as it fell on top of G!

Anyway, the thing was that he needed a good ride with someone he trusted to get his confidence back and I was very happy to oblige!

I had a small errand to run first, dropping in on Lewtrenchard Manor, a really nice country house hotel, that was conveniently on the route. image

I hooked up with G in a cafe on the Northern edge of Dartmoor and after a coffee we trundled off to the delightful old market town of Moretonhamstead.
Following G, I concluded that if his confidence had taken a knock by his accident, well it wasn’t showing as he expertly flicked his nimble bike round the corners leaving me to heave Baby around in his wake!

Mortonhamstead is an ancient town, noted in the Domesday Book in 1086 and granted a weekly market in 1207. It’s one of those places where everyone feels at home and a sense of belonging. Our mission there was to visit the noted butcher and delicatessen of Michael Howard, famous for his sausages and faggots!  

Now before anyone gets carried away and wrongly assumes the modern, Americanised, derogatory use of the word, let me explain something for you!

Faggots are a traditional dish here in Britain, especially in the English Midlands and more importantly, Wales. Do you see where I’m coming from? It is normally made from pork meat off-cuts, offal and bacon minced together, wrapped in caul and formed into fist-size balls with onion and herbs added for flavouring. They were a cheap food of ordinary people and followed the maxim that the only part of a pig not used was it’s oink!image
Today faggots have largely slipped from favour, except in their regional strongholds, but for aficionados such as G and I it’s well worth taking the trouble to hunt out the real thing, such as made by our butcher friend in Moretonhamstead. Not surprisingly I also ended up buying a pile of other tasty goodies!

Now, I mentioned that we were on the Northern edge of Dartmoor and regular blogonaughts will know that this is one of my favourite local playgrounds; 368 square miles of wonderful granite upland peaking at over 2000 feet and with lonely lovely twisty roads. I adore every wild inch of it, so I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. Fortunately G feels the same as me about the place and it wasn’t long before I was following him across the wonderful wilderness. The unfenced roads across the moor all have a blanket 40mph limit to protect animals, I like it because it forces you to slow down and take a good look around and just enjoy the view a bit more. image
Riding behind G the best view in the world for me was seeing him on his bike in front of me. The past months of chemo have been tough on my mate and his family and there have been times when our ride would have been out of the question. I’m keeping everything crossed, because it’s looking OK at the moment; G’s test results have been getting better and he seems to be responding well to the treatment. To see him in his element on his beloved Triumph made me very happy and judging by the grin on his face it did the same for him too!

We cut across Dartmoor and through the Stannary town of Tavistock, I must do a post about that place one day.

Soon we were into Cornwall and briskly heading into the vibrant fishing port of Looe, fresh fish for lunch was calling us!

During the summer months Looe creaks under the weight of invading holiday-makers, but last Friday it was an altogether more relaxed place and after a leisurely meal we took a gentle stroll along the quay and enjoyed an ice cream where the fishing boats were tied up.imageThe afternoon was marching on and the light began to take on a golden tint, time to head for Dookes H.Q. across my beloved Bodmin Moor.

Colliford Lake, Bodmin Moor.

Colliford Lake, Bodmin Moor.

Our two bikes roared in harmony as we sped through the clear moorland air.
Yes, the simple things definitely make me smile and riding a motorbike alongside my mate, as he fights his biggest battle, was one of life’s greatest privileges and gave me one of my happiest smiles!

“Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels —
Looking back at the years gone by like so many summer fields.”

Thanks everyone for your support. Catch you soon.

Dookes

Ghost Hunting

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Since returning from Brittany, life seems to have taken a slightly hectic turn, but needless to say I haven’t let that get in the way of enjoying my bikes on a series of nice little rides!

Most of the UK has been blessed with an early autumn of stunningly beautiful weather and our little corner has been well within the sunshine zone, so it was only right to give both bikes a breath of fresh air. First up a quick blast across Bodmin Moor on Harls! As always it was great to be on two wheels, even better on a bike that I absolutely adore riding. It’s funny, but since I bought the new Ultra Limited I somehow appreciate my old Harls even more than ever. Her staccato exhaust, open riding position and laid-back style may not be to everyone’s taste, but I love her! Sure she’s not as hi-tech as her new stable mate, could do with another top gear and better brakes, but she has character and personality in abundance. They can bury me sitting on that bike! P1040943

One morning recently I had to do some business in Bodmin, one of our local towns, and after that was concluded the whole day was begging not to be wasted. With a mind to getting out on the open road I took “Baby Harls,” my Ultra Limited and had one of those lovely moments as I pondered, “Now, where shall we go?”

The sky looked a deeper shade of blue towards the East, so we hit the A38 trunk road and headed across the River Tamar.

Now at this point I must confess that the two main trunk roads out of Cornwall, the A30 and A38, are best described as “tedious.” Sure, they get you to where you want to go reasonably quickly and actually both cover some pretty scenery, but that’s it. They can both get snarled up with traffic at times and also seem to attract more than their fair share of really bad drivers, but no I’m not about to launch into a Dookes rant, so lets just leave it there!

After cruising about sixty miles we turned off the ’38 and passed through the old market town and tidal port of Totnes. Feeling a “heritage” moment coming on, I followed the signs towards the small village of Berry Pomeroy and it’s romantic, though magnificently ruined castle.

Once a medieval castle and later a sumptuous Elizabethan mansion, Berry was the home of the Seymour and Pomeroy families. The remains lie in a beautiful woodland setting and have the reputation of being one of the most haunted castles in England; I just had to go see for myself!

What I found I pretty much fell in love with straight away.

The Gatehouse.

The Gatehouse.

The original castle dates from the 1400’s, but by 1560 the owning Seymour family began a re-construction odyssey that was to last nearly 100 years and would never be completed. Sadly, much of the finest building work was dismantled in the Eighteenth Century, but plenty remains to show just how grand the place must have been in it’s heyday.

The Elizabethan House

The Elizabethan House

Today the castle is in the custodianship of English Heritage and open to the public, but still belongs to the descendants of the original owners. To find out more about it you can follow the link here.

I think I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

The East Range 1600-10.

The East Range 1600-10.

Inside the Elizabethan Ruins.

Inside the Elizabethan Ruins.

The Elizabethan House From The Great Hall.

The Elizabethan House From The Great Hall.

The Curtain Wall and St Margaret's Tower.

The Curtain Wall and St Margaret’s Tower.

Leaving Berry Pomeroy and not having spotted any ghosts, we headed North to Ashburton and set off across Dartmoor, this was turning into a very self-indulgent day!

The road across the moor initially starts by back tracking the River Dart through its narrow valley and deep woodland. This road was one of the first that I rode my new “Baby” on earlier in the year and brought back many happy memories.

Early Spring on the River Dart.

Early Spring on the River Dart.

It was early spring then and now the seasons have moved on, autumn is getting well into her lovely stride. The woods held the unmistakable smell of resinous falling leaves, something that to me embodies this time of year. On the high moor the summer bracken has tuned the same red as the wild native ponies and grass is beginning to take on a slightly yellow hue as it’s feed value diminishes.P1040994 There are hard cold days ahead and this country can be very hard indeed, though at the same time stunningly beautiful.P1050001

It makes you appreciate how good it is to be alive and enjoying it!P1040999

“It ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive.”

Catch you soon.

Dookes

Land of Mystery

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Lovely early summer days have arrived here in Cornwall and for me the best way to enjoy them is from the saddle of one of my beloved Harley Davidson motorbikes!

On my last post I took you to the times of Arthurian Legend, this time lets go back further in time. . . a lot further back.

High on the South Eastern edge of Bodmin Moor is the small and incredibly named village of Minions, yes honestly that’s the name of the place! Here can be found evidence of human habitation that stretches back to the Neolithic Period, at least 2500BC, or to put it another way, thats over four and a half thousand years ago! Around the parish can be found burial mounds, standing stones, ditch-ways and a host of other mysterious works.

Most impressive of all can be found on the Western edge of the village where three intriguing stone circles laid in a straight line lie. These are known as “The Hurlers,” or in the local Cornish language, “An Hurlysi.” They are probably the best example of ceremonial circles in South West England and folklore has it that they are the petrified remains of men punished for playing Cornish Hurling on a Sunday.P1030830

The three large circles are aligned on an axis running NNE to SSW. The largest circle is the centre one and measures just over 41 metres in diameter, with its flanking neighbours both just over 30 metres across. Just off to the West are two separate stones known as “The Pipers,” possibly they were playing for the Hurlers when they were set in stone! The whole site is big! 

 

Now don’t go expecting another Stonehenge, the more famous site on Salibury Plain, the Hurlers are nowhere near as grand, but to the Ancient people in this part of the world, probably just as important.

It is fair to say that what they represent is, today, a mystery. Some scholars have suggested that the layout of the stones concurs with stella alignment particularly linked to the stars Vega and Arcturus, or at least where that combination would have appeared in antiquity. Others have linked the layout to the stars in the constellation of Orion, specifically the “Belt,” though as recent archaeology has revealed that there once was a fourth circle I guess that kicks that theory into touch! 

 The stones that remain show clear signs of being crafted and hammered smooth. Originally there were 28 in the centre circle but now only 14 survive, whilst the North circle has 15 out of 30 remaining.

As a place to visit it is certainly worth the effort, particularly on a nice clear day and if industrial archaeology also floats your boat, there are countless reminders of Cornwall’s tin and copper mining heritage to be seen as well. More on that in a future post. I couldn’t resist a bit of monochrome either! 

 About half a mile South of the Hurlers is another fascinating relic of ancient times. This is “Long Tom” also known as “The Long Stone,” an ancient Menhir that possibly pre-dates even the Hurlers. Again the original reason why this 2.8 metre tall stone has been placed here is lost in the mists of time. The most fascinating thing about Long Tom is that at some time the rather phallic stone has been “Christianised,” a simple Celtic Cross has been roughly carved in the head. I found it quite hard to define in a photograph, but trust me, there is a cross there.  

 

 Now here’s an interesting thing, if you take Long Tom as the starting point a line can be drawn right along the axis of The Hurlers and it leads to an ancient burial mound known as Rillaton Barrow. Local legend says that that Rillaton is haunted by the spirit of a Druid Priest, who offers travellers a drink from an undrainable cup. During archaeological excavations back in 1837 a variety of finds were unearthed. Human remains, obviously, but also “grave goods” including a bronze dagger, beads, pottery and a wonderful gold cup. Now known as The Rillaton Cup this beautiful, 90mm high, relic of an ancient time can be seen in the British Museum, London; could this be the cup of the Druid Priest? 

 Pondering the past and happy to be a Druid, I eased Harley into gear and nodded a distant salute to the Priest as I rode away; luckily I wasn’t thirsty!

“Forget about the cheque we’ll get hell to pay, have a drink on me!

Catch you soon.

Dookes
Oh yes, I nearly forgot. Someone in the village of Minions has a sense of humour and I fully approve!