Necessary Updates

1. Rachel's Ankle. We have it on impeccable word, Rachel's herself, that the ankle suffered a sprain, not a fracture or break. This is not to downplay the severity of the incident - I can testify myself that there was a lot of pain present - but at least we know that the recovery time will be a lot shorter. 'Until I can get the boot back on', the woman said.

2. The Boiler. The man - and note that this is a different man than the man I was referring to as the man - the man said that the problem was a photocell, or something with a similar name and purpose. I'm not sure myself what that purpose was, only the result, a bloody cold house and the threat of frozen pipes. But not now. Thanks to the man, we're warm and unsmelly. This year, we've decided, will be the year to invest in a wood burning stove - this will ensure, absoluitely, that we won't get a cold spell like this one for many years to come.

3. The Detail. Rachel has since told me that she'd like a little more detail on the incident and what followed. She says that she can't remember. Well, being as it interests me for some sad reason, I thought I'd expand on the decision about routes.


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This snapshot from Google Maps shows where we were when the incident occured. You can see that the boundaries, banks topped by dry stone walls, encroach upon the open ground to form a funnel of sorts. This would have been used by Dartmoor farmers to push cattle or sheep, possibly ponies though a gate and into more enclosed field systems.

For us, the obvious thing to do was to follow the route down and thence choose the best option to get onto the track. Both Paul and I agreed that it was better to get to a situation where we could use the Land Rover rather than make Rachel hobble too far.

My normal route back from here is to cut right - westward - after going through the funnel, and following what is normally a well-trodden path. Unfortunately I'd forgotten that this path involves crossing a minor stream by way of a large step between two boulders. I didn't remember this until I'd passed through two fields - I was rushing ahead to locate a path - and so when I returned I was rather frustrated.

Meanwhile, perhaps because of the time it was taking, Paul had pushed south, dropping down into Deancombe and had found a better alternative. A quick discussion convinced me that he was right and so while he stayed with Rachel, I headed south along what on the following snapshot is a very clear path.


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Although it seems fairly inoquious, it was somewhat rocky in places, especially where it cut slightly east through the trees to reach the track in the combe. As I went down I cleared the snow away as much as I could, ridding the path of loose rocks, so that Rachel, following on her crutches wouldn't have too hard a time.

Once on the track, I found a spot within the remains of an old building, probably mine works, though it might have been a farm building. Here I set my survival blanket against an a wall that served as a shelter from the easterly wind. It also meant that Rachel couldn't see the weather moving in from a direction that is as unusual on Dartmoor as it is severe.

Here's the spot.


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And if you utlise your mouse, you can trace the route Paul had to run and the same route he drove the Land Rover to get back.

What's lucky about this spot is that it marks the limit of a functionable track. While the Land Rover might have got beyond that point, or might have climbed a short way out of the combe, the chances are that if we'd stationed Rachel higher up the slope, she'd still have been required to walk down in any case.

At least amongst ourselves, I feel we might rename that deserted building. Rachel's Rest might do it.