Covid Wanderings in North Devon

I write this from the vantage point of well past post-2020. And what a weird, difficult year(s) it was. But silver linings did abound including a summer jaunt from London to Devon with two of my former Hornsey colleagues turned friends. In a sentiment that best encapsulates the madness of 2020, Lindsay also contemplated bringing her sourdough starter on the trip. In the end, her brother promised to feed it at home. And so, we travelled without ready-to-bake bread. 

Lindsay arrived one early Monday morning to pick me up in her mum's rather decrepit car. Despite it passing its MOT, the speedometer started shaking and then stopped working when she exceeded 50mph on the motorway. We eventually made the four-hour journey down to Braunton, Devon via Somerset, where we dropped Lindsay's mum off at her friend's house. 

Our uneventful journey took us past Stonehenge (really just a stack of rocks in a field off the motorway)

and to our rented cottage and resting place for three nights. In a world of Covid restrictions, we met our hosts outdoors, were promised strict cleaning guidelines had been followed and then were given lots of recommendations for outdoor eateries to enjoy what turned into the most glorious British summer in my memory.

Every day turned into a different coastal path beach walk. From Saunton Sands to Westward Ho! (the exclamation, I assure you, is part of the place's name) and Woolacombe we were greeted with many quiet places to walk, gaze and pause. 

Without a car, this would have been nigh on impossible, which is why I really must take steps to get my UK driving license. Then again, hedgerows really are a thing...

Dartmoor National Park
On our one rainy day, we took the car down to Dartmoor, one of England's ten national parks. The wild and vastness of the park is impressive and although a road bisects the park, animals rule the roost. Wild horses roam the moor as do the odd sheep, some that seem to have strayed from their last few years of haircuts.

Towards the Northwest corner of the park, the village of Widecombe in the Moor, does a good job at being quaint and feeding people. We stopped for a pub lunch (they even let us inside, but at a distance!) and browse, deciding not to join the British proclivity to collect Toby Jugs. Google it, they're creepy. 

From there, we moved on to our next destination, the village of Mortehoe, where we moved into another quaint cottage and picked up Clara along the way. More to come!