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March 11, 2025
Sublime Rambling
By Vicki L. George
The Bandera Prophet
English Epistle #9
Feb. 12, 1998
Oh, if my friends could see me now! I went into a shop this afternoon and asked for a Tellytubby stuffed toy for my grandson. The shopkeeper asked me if I was local! I was so stunned I was actually speechless for a moment. When I recovered I asked her if I sounded local. Then she had heard enough to laugh and admit that I didn’t.
By the way, Tellytubbies are funny looking little creatures which small children here are absolutely mad about. They’re on the telly and are supposed to teach, much in the same way of Sesame Street. There is really no way to describe them. I believe there are four of them. They look like what you could imagine short, colorful, plump aliens might look like. Each one has a different shaped antennae on top of his/her head. As far as I can tell they are completely genderless. The mums I’ve talked to say that you either love them or hate them. Either way, the kiddos all seem to love them and the stores can’t keep them in stock.
But, to continue our journey! We were headed for the moors and following our B & B hostess’ directions. Basically the route she suggested made a circle round the park. There is also a road which cuts pretty straight across the park going east/west. The first day we got half way round and cut across and returned to Okehampton. The next day we went the other direction and went south from the half way point. So we spent a day and a half on the moors.
How do I describe the moors? I’ve seen nothing quite like it in America. It’s quite large, thousands of acres. It looks barren with rolling hills, up to about 2,000 feet above sea level. There are rivers running through, ravines, forlorn rock outcroppings (tors), grass which is brown and short, heather growing everywhere, the occasional grove of tall pines and hardwoods. No wonder Sir Arthur Conan Doyle set “The Hound of the Baskervilles” here. A brooding and compelling place.
There are only the two roads and a few villages with vast spaces between. It would be very easy to get lost. And that would be a dangerous situation. The place is full of bogs. In fact, everywhere you walk the ground feels like a sponge. We were told to be very careful when walking the moors because if we stepped into a bog we would suddenly find ourselves up over our knees and probably up to our hips. These are peat bogs and I’m not sure if it’s possible to pull yourself out without help. And we were told that help might not come as we would be out of sight and sound of most people and when the fog comes in, it comes suddenly.
The first village where we stopped was Lydford. We ate at the Lydford Inn, built in the 1500s. It was next to the ruins of Lydford Prison which was built in the 1100s. The prison has a brutal history. Legend has it that the jailers were likely to draw and quarter a man, then have his “trial” the next morning. I can only imagine what went on there during the questioning by the inquisitors. Hubby wanted to go in and I had very negative vibes about that. I didn’t want to be left behind so I followed him inside. Immediately I felt the terror and pain; it was very heavy and oppressive. There were what was left of huge rooms below ground level. Of course, there were no windows and there were places on the walls where something had once been bolted, probably iron rings of some sort. Hubby started to go down but decided not to; with the roof long gone it had become a pigeon loft and the floor below was deep in their droppings. There was nothing else to see and I was anxious to leave.
We drove through Princetown with the brand new state-of-the-art prison. The sign said not to stop and not to take pictures. So we drove on.
Later on we saw a small herd of Dartmoor Ponies and I took some photos of them. With their long winter coats, they looked so shaggy. But they are a delightful size with wonderful bone and refined heads and tiny ears. They were very handsome little animals.
During the day a cold front moved over; the wind came up and it turned very cold and chilly.
The next morning we checked out of the Okehampton B & B and headed the other direction into the moors again. This time, with a strong cold wind and very overcast sky, making the moors ever more haunting in their effect.
By the way, Tellytubbies are funny looking little creatures which small children here are absolutely mad about. They’re on the telly and are supposed to teach, much in the same way of Sesame Street. There is really no way to describe them. I believe there are four of them. They look like what you could imagine short, colorful, plump aliens might look like. Each one has a different shaped antennae on top of his/her head. As far as I can tell they are completely genderless. The mums I’ve talked to say that you either love them or hate them. Either way, the kiddos all seem to love them and the stores can’t keep them in stock.
But, to continue our journey! We were headed for the moors and following our B & B hostess’ directions. Basically the route she suggested made a circle round the park. There is also a road which cuts pretty straight across the park going east/west. The first day we got half way round and cut across and returned to Okehampton. The next day we went the other direction and went south from the half way point. So we spent a day and a half on the moors.
How do I describe the moors? I’ve seen nothing quite like it in America. It’s quite large, thousands of acres. It looks barren with rolling hills, up to about 2,000 feet above sea level. There are rivers running through, ravines, forlorn rock outcroppings (tors), grass which is brown and short, heather growing everywhere, the occasional grove of tall pines and hardwoods. No wonder Sir Arthur Conan Doyle set “The Hound of the Baskervilles” here. A brooding and compelling place.
There are only the two roads and a few villages with vast spaces between. It would be very easy to get lost. And that would be a dangerous situation. The place is full of bogs. In fact, everywhere you walk the ground feels like a sponge. We were told to be very careful when walking the moors because if we stepped into a bog we would suddenly find ourselves up over our knees and probably up to our hips. These are peat bogs and I’m not sure if it’s possible to pull yourself out without help. And we were told that help might not come as we would be out of sight and sound of most people and when the fog comes in, it comes suddenly.
The first village where we stopped was Lydford. We ate at the Lydford Inn, built in the 1500s. It was next to the ruins of Lydford Prison which was built in the 1100s. The prison has a brutal history. Legend has it that the jailers were likely to draw and quarter a man, then have his “trial” the next morning. I can only imagine what went on there during the questioning by the inquisitors. Hubby wanted to go in and I had very negative vibes about that. I didn’t want to be left behind so I followed him inside. Immediately I felt the terror and pain; it was very heavy and oppressive. There were what was left of huge rooms below ground level. Of course, there were no windows and there were places on the walls where something had once been bolted, probably iron rings of some sort. Hubby started to go down but decided not to; with the roof long gone it had become a pigeon loft and the floor below was deep in their droppings. There was nothing else to see and I was anxious to leave.
We drove through Princetown with the brand new state-of-the-art prison. The sign said not to stop and not to take pictures. So we drove on.
Later on we saw a small herd of Dartmoor Ponies and I took some photos of them. With their long winter coats, they looked so shaggy. But they are a delightful size with wonderful bone and refined heads and tiny ears. They were very handsome little animals.
During the day a cold front moved over; the wind came up and it turned very cold and chilly.
The next morning we checked out of the Okehampton B & B and headed the other direction into the moors again. This time, with a strong cold wind and very overcast sky, making the moors ever more haunting in their effect.