Our Muddy Manaton Adventure
- Adventure Mama
- Apr 30, 2020
- 4 min read
Updated: May 24, 2020
Grandad has been joining us on our Tuesday adventures this year which has been great. My Dad has a wealth of adventure knowledge and know-how, so all I have to do is turn up with toddler and suitable clothing and he sorts the rest.
One of our recent adventures took us from my childhood village of Manaton (east Dartmoor), through Lustleigh cleave and back along the river Bovey. Attempting this walk after what seemed like the longest spell of storms and wet weather, the paths were sodden and more like river beds than footpaths. Orla, having some crazy affinity with water (who would have known, after screaming her way through terms 1, 2 and 3 of Turtle Tots?) loved all this and walked the majority of the route (that she was able to) spurred along by the fact that she had one continuous 'puddle' to splash in!
Our adventure started on the green outside Manaton parish church. There is a small car park with an honesty box donation of £1 for a days adventuring. We headed up the road towards Foxworthy Bridge and after approximately 500m turned right onto the bridleway leading towards Horsham/Horsham Cleave. Bridleway was a bit of a stretch of the imagination, as after what seemed like the longest spell of storms and wet weather the path was more like a giant muddy slip-and-slide than any discernible path. We jumped Orla from water filled muddy crater to slightly less water filled muddy crater, praying that neither of us ended up in a Dawn French - 'Vicar of Dibly' type situation with mud up to our waistlines. Orla all the while shouting "SPLASH PUDDLES, ORLA SPLASH PUDDLES".
Once we had reached the safety of dryer ground, unbeknown to us, we headed straight into our next challenge. Continuing along the bridleway towards Horsham Cleave we came across two young cows who had evidently made a bid for freedom from a neighbouring field. Now I don't mind cows in the slightest, but they are really really big when up close, on a narrow track, blocked in by a gate! I'll be the first to admit that I was more than a little nervous, so dutifully used my Dad and daughter as human shields whilst negotiating this latest obstacle. Not wanting to frighten beasts or toddler, we slowly inched our way down the track hoping they would direct their travel back to where they had escaped from. This was not the case! One escaped up the bank of the track into a perfectly manicured garden (oops). The other sensing he had lost his escapee mate continued down the track to the gate where he became trapped. Here we had a bit of a Mexican standoff, but both parties came out unscathed (with the addition of a few bramble scratches) and we were deemed worthy of passage and able to continue on our way.
It was then a beautiful, but steep trek down towards the river through the forest. Sat atop Grandad's shoulders with all the sights, sounds and smells of nature, Orla was loving life. All until my screeches of "WATCH OUT" as she was nearly gouged by a tangle of brambles. Luckily my screechy warning meant her face was missed and bobble hat took the brunt of the attack!
And because mud, cows and bramble attacks weren't enough excitement for the first leg of our journey, we then crossed a gushing river Bovey at Horsham steps by jumping Orla from boulder to boulder (did I mention Grandad thought up this route?? 😳).
Once we had had our fill of cheese sandwiches (Orla's absolute fav) in a gorgeously secluded spot (must remember to come back when it's a bit less muddy), we then followed what Grandad claimed was a 'fishermans' track down the north side of the river. Between you and me I don't think this was a path at all, but we got too far to admit it might not be right and were therefore committed! At the point where we were scrambling over yet more boulders and Dad had to catch me from falling backwards due to excess toddler weight on my back, right at this point, I vowed going forward to encourage Orla to walk as much as she possibly can - my back certainly can't take her for very long these days. Its not often that I get beaten but this time I did and Dad had to take over toddler carrying responsibilities while I took emergency shelter and climbing rope (I mean what type of adventure was Grandad expecting?).
We carried on in this nature until we reached the footbridges in Hound Tor Woods National Nature Reserve and being the dutiful adventure mama that I am, encouraged Orla to cross the old fallen tree 'Clam' bridge before playing an armful of pooh-sticks from the much safer, sturdier footbridge.
After that it was a simple case of following the track uphill to reach the hamlets of Water and Freeland. Again, it was pretty steep coming out of the valley, but amazingly Orla walked the entirety of this and not due to my vowed reluctance to carry her again, but all due to the fact that water was running off the neighbouring fields into the track and she had the best time splashing her way up the path.
I have always maintained that adventure need be nothing more than a walk in the park. However, adventures with Grandad . . . well that's another matter!
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