Basic hike: from Belstone
(near Okehampton) south into the moors following the Taw. At Taw
Marsh our route climbs Oke Tor and continues south up Okement Hill,
before returning alongside Oke Tor to gain the ridge leading to
Belstone Tor. Then it's simply a case of descending over Belstone
Common back to the village.
Distance and going: seven miles, fairly easygoing
except for boulder "clitter" in places.
This is a long and exhilarating trudge up into the high country.
In a way it 's a bit like attempting to find the source of the Nile
- only the mission here is to find the source of the River Taw.
Taw Head is in the middle of nowhere - in other words, it's plonk
in the centre of Dartmoor's northern vastness - which is as middle-of-nowhere-ish
as you get in the Westcountry peninsula.
I'll admit before we begin that I never actually reached the teeny-weeny
source, which spews from a bog under Hangingstone Hill, but I did
get to a point where I could view the spring in all its wild and
remote beauty. And that'll do nicely, as the route made a bracing
and wonderful figure-of-8 walk.
Note that all maps on this site are only indicative.
You should never set out without the correct OS map.
We begin at the picturesque village
of Belstone perched high above the A30 a few miles south-east of
Okehampton. I parked by the side of a common just down the lane
from the curious looking pub, and admired the view of spectacular
Belstone Cleave before setting off in a southerly direction into
the moors.
A track introduced me to the tumbling River Taw after I'd walked
around the back of a Christian residential centre and found myself
passing through what I presume is a series of sheep dipping pens.
Once past this last bow to agriculture, I was able to gain the rough
path that climbs alongside the waterfalls and rapids of the Taw.
And this is the theme of the first half-mile into the wilderness
- the river seems in a great rush to leave the moor. Then, as if
by some geographical magic, things change. The river ceases to rumble
and roar and we enter a quiet stretch where the water moves sleek
and silent down a narrow channel. And suddenly, looking up, the
walker realises that he has entered an entirely new demesne - a
secret world tucked away and shielded by great hills all around.
It's called Taw Marsh, and it looks
a bit like something out of Africa's Serengeti. I have never seen
anything like this place anywhere else in the region - an enclosed
plain where the river forgets its moorland rush to meander quietly
this way and that in a series of wide, beach-lined pools. It comes
as a complete surprise and for a moment you are forced to stop and
stare. The place is dominated by the tall triangular peak of Steeperton
Tor and somehow you can imagine H Rider Haggard writing a novel
about some long lost tribe hiding out up there.
The two dippers, which had escorted me up the rushing part of
the stream, departed and were replaced by a pair of ravens. These
seemed most indignant at my arrival in their secret world, and I
soon found out why. They had been about the gory business of pecking
out the insides of a drowned sheep. She was caught up on a branch
in one of the bends in the river, and I was horrified to see that
her unborn lamb had survived its mother's death and attempted to
climb out of the hole made by the birds. Nature's own terrible Caesarean
had failed - the unborn lamb only made it halfway into this cruel
world.
I walked quickly away and climbed the
almost imperceptible path that took me on a diagonal route to the
top of Oke Tor. The rocks up here look like so many pancakes piled
one upon another - the fossilised silt, I suppose, of some ancient
primeval sea.
After a sheltered breather from the gale I moved on, south to
the lip of Steeperton Gorge. This is one of two defiles that isolate
splendid Steeperton Tor and make it the distinct mountain it is.
A bit confusing really because the easterly one is called Steeperton
Brook so you'd think it would have the gorge named after it. But
it's the western defile, the Taw, which gets the appellation, as
it cleaves its way down from the southerly heights.
From Oke Tor to this point I'd followed a recognisable track and,
as this now veered away from the gorge to climb the flanks of Okement
Hill, I followed in the belief it would sooner or later reveal the
birthplace of the Taw. It did. After I'd crossed a level plain that
formed the watershed between the Taw and Okement Rivers, I was able
to branch south again up Okement Hill, and long before I reached
the top I could see Taw Head. Unremarkable bog it might be, but
the landscape has a wild, untamed beauty of its own and I look forward
to returning when I explore the Okement Rivers.
But now I retraced my tracks and returned
to the watershed where I followed the left-hand track down the hill.
Just past what's known on Dartmoor as a "clitter" of rocks,
I left the track to follow the 420 metre contour back along the
western flank of Oke Tor, and this took me north to the ridge that
stretches between Oke and Belstone Tors.
The latter eminence affords some of the finest views in the Westcountry.
From its rocky peak you can see all of central and North Devon as
well as much of northern Cornwall. It is one of the most boulder-strewn
hills on Dartmoor, and you must take great care not to turn an ankle
when making your way north again, down across its flanks to Belstone.
And take care too, not to annoy the Nine Maidens of Belstone Common
who either dance here every noon - or every Hunter's Moon - depending
on which myth you believe. Anyway, they're moody phantoms who were
turned to stone for dancing on the Sabbath - just like the Merry
Maidens across the Tamar vale at lofty Minnions on Bodmin Moor.
So watch your step and you'll re-enter the world of man at Belstone
unscathed but weary after a long and spectacular Dartmoor dawdle.
Dartmoor
& South West Devon
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