We survived our night on Exmoor without any strange bumps or howls in the night and woke up to a lovely sunrise, the only trouble was it was red and we all know what that portends!

The previous day two trail motorbikes had passed through on the bridleway both sporting bright yellow labels announcing them to be equestrian marshal’s. They were hanging bright orange ribbons at 25 yard intervals to bracken, trees, gateposts etc along the bridleway. This was obviously a very important job and Patrick and I discussed the why’s and the wherefores of this particular manoeuvre but failed to understand why a bridle road needed markers!

On the way over Exmoor we stopped in a beautiful spot on the River Barle and despite the fact it was only 9.35 in the morning we just had to stop for elevenses. I took my morning drink and stood on the bridge, not only drinking my coffee but drinking in the view as well.

I saw a flash of electric blue which could only be a Kingfisher and I kept my eyes fixed on the bush into which it had flown. I was rewarded for my patience because it suddenly flew out and hovered over the water like a huge chestnut breasted humming bird. It plummeted head first towards the river flashing it’s electric blue back. With hardly a splash it was flying back to it’s perch with breakfast. I watched it dive 3 times as it slowly worked it’s way up river. Another dragon moment found and recorded, these are my magic moments.

We meandered along the coast road to Ilfracombe. Neither of us had been there before and I can’t say we were over chuffed but there was one fascinating little fact I’d read. There is a chapel on the crag that has a lantern like structure on the roof. The hill, which is known as Lantern hill, is about 100ft high and a steady climb. A light has been shining from this chapel for 650 years to guide sailors home. It’s a lovely little building and the views are excellent. It is still used as a Chapel and has a small photographic exhibition. I’m sorry to say that I didn’t get dates but there was a picture a baby girl being baptised and another, several years later, of the same girl getting married.

We followed the path round another hill and as I looked down onto the jagged rocks and crags below I felt that I should be seeing dwarf’s and Auk’s with a slinking Gollum climbing over the rocks. It was one of those times when perspective can get the better of you and you could imagine yourself to be 6,000 feet up looking down onto a massive area of jagged mountains 2 and 3000 ft high. A quick blink of the eyes and you’re back to 175ft. Fanciful I know but I’ learning to let my imagination take the lead.

I got my paddle at Woolacombe, it was a fantastic beach, long and wide. At the Northern end there were some needle like rocks all jutting out of the sand at a 45 degree angle and plenty of rock pools around them with starfish(one), sea anemones (dozens) and I saw one tiny fish. The rocks were covered in barnacles which at a distance gave the rocks a very intriguing look. The lightness of the barnacles made the whole scene almost transparent giving it a mystical air.

It was getting late in the day so we drove down to Westward Ho! A modern town founded in 1863 and named after Charles Kingsley’s adventure story about Elizabethan seafarers. There are 3 miles of sand which I now know is sometimes used for a Dakota airplane to land on.

We camped next to the ‘Scooby doo house’ for those of you who have kids, however old, you’ll know what I mean. All that was missing was the lightning, music and of course the monster. It’s a lovely old, rambling house now standing empty on the edge of the sands.

The sky had been full of Stratus clouds until 5 o’clock when they turned to Nimbostratus and started to rain us. Yes, I have my Junior Weather Forecaster’s book!

Next morning it was still raining and we agreed that a walk up Kipling’s Tor in the fog (actually very low stratus) was out of the question. Rudyard attended the college at Westward Ho! Between 1878 and 1882 and, well you can guess can’t you, the Tor was named after him.

The clouds had now turned from heavy rain producing Stratus to High Cirrus in an azure blue sky giving good weather and even they dissipated by lunchtime and it was suddenly gorgeous. So gorgeous in fact that we shot straight down to Tintagel. I have always wanted to visit King Arthur’s Castle. I know, I know it’s only a myth but there must have been something going on at that time. Someone who managed to persuade all the clans to band together to fight off the raiding Saxons. I don’t think he had any dragons to help him though!

I was in heaven, Pat was in hell, it was down the hill, a steep hill only to have to climb up the staircase to the castle entrance. We met a couple walking back to the car park and they were weaving from side to side to lessen the gradient. I couldn’t resist it, much to their amusement I started singing the conga song. She insisted it was her husband’s idea and just knew everyone would thing they were drunk, but after hearing me sing she decide we were maybe all drunk. I certainly was on happiness. I loved it, my lungs were burning, my heart pounding and legs threatening to collapse but I still climbed every set of steps I could find, and photographed the view in all directions, I looked over every wall and photographed the view, I looked through every window I could find and photographed the view and I photographed Patrick amongst the ruins. Now, Patrick I didn’t say that! I said amongst the ruins.

We crossed over the to the next crag another staircase down and back up the other side and they were very steep, it’s pity I didn’t count them The archaeologists have found evidence of human habitation for over 2000 years and I had to walk all around the edge, photographing the views and sea crashing onto the rocks, I was in danger of running out of camera memory! The cliff was made up of flat layers of rock and you could walk to the very edge and look down, but what you didn’t see was how much they had been undercut! I decided to stay well back, well I’m no lightweight.

I was intrigued with the caves and cliffs both North and South and could have sat for hours just looking. Photographs never do that kind of scene justice, I just hope I can carry the feeling and views with me. I loved the atmosphere of the place as well, it was almost teasing, never giving up it’s secret of what really happened and who Arthur was. I enjoy being able to use my own imagination and picture Merlin sitting in his cave reading old spells on parchment trying to find a way to deal with Morwenna, of Arthur and his knights sitting in the castle planning the next battle against the Saxons, I could go on but I’m getting RSI.