A dry if cloudy start, which was nice after the rain of the day before.
First off, nipped down to Yelverton for a spot of white pudding from the butcher there. All present and correct, and we took one regular white pudding and one groats' pudding. The regular one was taken later in the week, sliced lengthwise and baked rather than our usual sliced crosswise and fried. On the grounds that first, it did not look as firm as the factory product from Slomers; and second, that we did not have sufficiently sharp knives. Taken with boiled vegetables it was very good. Including the skin, made of something edible rather than plastic.
Paid for in the old way, at the glass hutch at the far end of the shop, occupied by the lady who was quite possibly the butcher's wife. No doubt attended to all the orders and accounts too.
 |
Honey's Bakery
|
Next stop Horrabridge for Honey's Bakery, where it so happened that I could park more or less opposite. Antique oven still present and correct, but served by a gent. on this occasion rather than a lady. One small white (no large left), one small brown, two rock cakes and a version of olive bread. Which last looked fresh and as if he sold quite a few of them, so certainly worth a try. The oral serving suggestion being take with cheese and port.
In the snap above, the bakery is to be found in the door just to the right of the two white boxes. While their Facebook page (to be found at reference 2) suggests the the windows left with blinds, a shop front in the old style, used to be the bakery. Maybe next time I will remember to ask what is going on.
From Horrabridge the plan was to head north up the curiously named Jordan Lane, across Plaster Down to link up with the B.3357 where I could turn right, head over Pork Hill to Merrivale and from there on past Princetown and on to the Two Bridges Hotel, this last being our destination. Unfortunately, there was a road closed sign. Fortunately, I believed it, turned left to Tavistock and took the long way to Two Bridges. Which was just as well as it turned out that the road at Merrivale was well and truly closed for a long planned spot of maintenance.
 |
Plaster Down according to the Ordnance Survey
|
Jordan Lane and Plaster Down turned out to be a rather curious place, a sort of oasis of flat on the southern fringes of the Dartmoor National Park. We parked up by an impressive avenue of trees, probably running along the track marked just to the right of the road as it runs past the Riland Plantation.
 |
The view from the east, looking north
|
 |
Looking east
|
 |
Looking up
|
 |
The plantation, to the west
|
What was the white cable running across the grass, up the first of these snaps, to the right of our car? Electricity? Water? Whatever it was, it seemed rather exposed.
Then someone had spent a lot of time and money on walling and fencing the plantation, which was not very big at all. What was all the wire intended to keep out? Would the sheep scramble over the wall if it was not there? What was the plantation for?
 |
The Google story
|
And then, oddly, what looked very like our car, appeared in Street View, parked in very much the same place. With the copyright date being 2020, the image capture date being 2011 and with at least one 'Google 2019' discretely embedded in the image itself.
We get to the Two Bridges Hotel to find the car park quite busy. Inside quiet and we were told that the cars mainly belonged to walkers, possibly resident, possibly intending to take refreshment later. The main function room, more usually used for weddings and such like, had been converted for socially distanced dining. But we were shown through to the regular dining room, adapted for socially distanced dining. It was surprising how forlorn it looked with spaced, unset tables. Not helped by none of the collection of ancient clocks actually ticking, actually showing the time. Just so much ornate brown wood arranged around the walls.
But that said, there was a lot that was good about our lunch. The staff were cheerful. The white bread was fresh and might have been made on the premises - and they were generous with it. The green vegetables were of a much higher standard than is usual in such a place - and they even managed an extra bowl of cabbage, rather nicely prepared. The only thing wrong with my meal was something described as Dartmoor blade of beef, which might have been mistaken for a lump of the previous day's Sunday roast, warmed up in the microwave. Or for something out of a tin.
 |
The West Dart just below the hotel
|
 |
The fungus
|
 |
Detail
|
Out to check the geese and the river, all present and correct.
Out on the road again, managing to clock up four passes in sight of Dartmoor Prison in the course of the expedition. Due to be closed in a few years time, only a shadow of its former, forbidding self.
Home to take rock cakes. Mild, fresh and pleasant. Not as highly flavoured as some, and probably, in consequence, better for regular consumption.
 |
No camping
|
 |
Roadside heather in flower, Holne Moor beyond
|
Followed by a quick turn on the road over the moor, that is to say heading north west towards Venford Reservoir. Fine views over the country to the north and east. One of the many signs forbidding camping on the moor that we came across during our week. Given how quiet and remote it was, they seem to have got something of a thing about it, perhaps having been overwhelmed in summers past by numbers, litter and bad manners.
Home to more or less demolish the olive bread. Very good it was too. But nothing like the olive bread we used to buy from a Cypriot baker very near where Green Lanes crosses the North Circular Road. This last came in the form of pale brown buns with an interior scattering of bits of olive. While today's loaf was white, with a smear of olives and green sauce (pesto?) smeared into an outer fold.
Instructions about port and cheese disregarded, but there may have been a spot of Calvados later.
No comments:
Post a Comment