Out on the Moors

The skies show a promise of rain. With the chilly winds, I decide to wear my waterproofs right from the start so that I don't have to bother with putting them on in the rain somewhere out in the lands.

The plan is to visit four stonecircles. They are all close to each other on the north eastern part of Bodmin Moor and I should be able to reach all of them in one days walk. Within a couple hundred metres, the big plan already changes into a small plan. With every step I reach out more to the land, longing to sense its character. The pureness, the atmosphere, they tell so much. I realise that I didn't come here to achieve something, it matters not whether I visit one stonecircle, four or none at all. My only real goal is connection with nature and, via that connection, with life itself.

The stroll to the first stonecircle brings confusion. It should be on the west side of Rough Tor, yet there are lots of cairns and settlements, but no circle. Normally OS Maps knows the way, but the GPS seems to be confused too, showing a different direction all the time. The first rains come and for a moment I stop, turning my back towards it. A pony shows up a few metres next to me, back to the rain and wind, as if it wants to keep me company. Quietly we stand there.

Found. Filled with cows. I slowly approach, very mindful of the mother and her young. As they see me take a detour and still making my way onwards, they decide to move further afield themselves and I can enter the stonecircle. It's quite a large one although the energies are very faint. I do some work on restoring energies and then decide to move on. Looking around me, I change the plan once more. The Tor closest to me looks attractive and is closer now than the other stonecircles, so I head in that direction, leaving the circles for another time. The first obstruction is a fence. Moorland is always free to roam about but I today will end up climbing 5 fences, finding myself on the wrong side of a fence all the time.

When I finally make it to the top of Garrow Tor, a new rain shower announces itself. I walk around the top and find myself a great shelter that offers extended views all the way to Willey Brown Tor. Spreading out my saddleblanket, I sit down. I watch Willey disappear in the white and grey of the rain, then reappear when the skies clear a little, then disappear again in the next rainshower. Raindrops are dripping from the overhanging rock forming the roof of my shelter. The sound is soft and gentle. For an hour I watch how the landscape disappears and reappears. I watch the waves of rain, the moving clouds, the changing colours of the skies and the land. Sometimes a bird takes flight with a loud song, most of the time they too are waiting for the rain to pass. In the silence, only the grasses and the leaves of a few nearby trees are moved by the wind. No human in sight. The Moors are deserted.

The urge to go somewhere, to do something, disappears. Slowly I come into the present moment. All I have to do today is to be. Embracing what is, without the need to change any of it. No hurry or need to achieve anything.

The skies grow lighter, some sun is shining through. I spotted a deserted cottage down in the valley and head down to inspect it. I fall in love with it. With its own waterstream and garden, enveloped by mountains on all sides, with only a few tracks leading towards it, it's the most wonderful off-grid place one can imagine. With a bit of imagination perhaps.

To make my way back, I decide to detour over the top of Brown Willy. The abundance of bracken, growing waist high, is proving a challenge. Animal tracks are hidden and so are rocks, making me stumble occasionally. Near the top I get another chance at practicing my monkey skills to climb over the rocks to get up there. The views are so worth it. The weather is changing by now and a storm announces more rain. As I make my way around a bunch of rocks, I catch the full wind and have stop for a moment to stabilise myself. Wow, probably 30 knots again!

I spot a small shelter and for the fun of it I squeeze myself in. The shelter of fallen rocks also show interesting creaks in the ground, quite large ones that show that this top will one day collapse. With rocks you never know, it might be today, it might be in decades or a hundred years, but collapse it will. As the rain falls, I tune into the soil and the rocks of my hiding place, feeling the aliveness emanating from it. Suddenly the stone on which I am sitting gives a slight bounce. As slight as one can feel a heartbeat in a wrist without touching the wrist. Wow. If I can feel movement in the soil via the rock, then it's time to give thanks for the hospitality and be gone. Standing safely in the open air, I watch the impressive rocks. How intriguing to feel the land move, the foreboding of those mighty rocks coming down one day.

It dries up again but halfway to my car, I get kinda slammed by a huge rain and hail storm. It matters not. I've come to the point where rain, hail, wind, sun are part of life and I calmly walk the last part to the car park.