England's Fair and Pleasant Land 

Day Four: Markets, Castles, and Moors

We left Polperro on a sunny morning after another fine English breakfast at the House on the Props. 

Once again, no water in the harbour ....

Following the suggestion of our hosts and new acquaintances from The Kitchen restaurant, we headed off toward destinations in rural Devon, Cornwall, and Somerset, including two of England's most famous moors, Dartmoor and Exmoor.

Once again, we crossed the River Tamar, stealing one last glance at I.K. Brunel's magnificent 1859 bridge.

Just a sneak peak at the Brunel bridge

Sir Francis Drake is Tavistock's favorite son.

Not only is there this handsome statue, but Drake is also honored by perhaps an even more appropriate memorial, given his choice of sport while waiting in Plymouth to sail out and defeat the Spanish Armada.

The ancient Pannier Market has always been the heart of Tavistock. Pannier is a French word for basket, which were the means of transporting goods to market back in the day.

Today, the market is housed in Victorian buildings built by the Duke of Devonshire.

Accordingly, the Duke also merits a statue.

Always good to be the Duke ....

in the gardens outside St. Eustachia's church

we spent a few minutes listening politely to the enthusiastic, off-key and if truth be told, not terribly talented woodwind (all flutes) ensemble whimsically named Flute Cocktail.

From Tavistock we headed off into Dartmoor, the dramatic, grim, rocky, windy, uncultivated, hilly landscape once roamed by Conan Doyle's fearsome Hound of the Baskervilles.

I'm afraid these photographs don't do justice to the quality and nature of the landscape. The moor rises up in all its wild, untamed, and rocky splendour from the surrounding lush and green, carefully cultivated countryside. The contrast is striking.

At one point, we were startled by a giant hare that ran across the road right in front of us. These Dartmoor hares -- and ours was the size of a greyhound (dog, not bus ...) lean and stringy looking -- not at all a cute little bunny! -- are reputed to be extinct, although there are those who say they've seen one or two in their lifetimes. We now count ourselves in that camp.

This is a good a photo as I could find ....

In a particularly desolate spot on the moor is situated the grim edifice of Dartmoor Prison, first erected in 1805 to house French prisoners-of-war.

During the War of 1812, more than 6,500 American sailors were also confined there under particularly wretched conditions. When the Treaty of Ghent ended the War, the Americans rioted when the prison Governor would not release them because the right paperwork hadn't yet been processed. A horrific massacre occurred, with considerable loss of American life.

 

The inscription on this gate reads Parcere Subjectis (spare the vanquished)

There's a fascinating museum outside the walls, but photography is not permitted inside the museum.

Aside from the prison, Dartmoor seems to be populated principally by sheep. It was shearing season, so we imagine the green dye on some of the animals had something to with that ....

Narrow country roads

lead to narrow country bridges ...

and sometimes, in the middle of nowhere, to something completely unexpected.

A landsman!

Launceston Castle is one of the oldest in this part of the country; built only four years following the Norman Conquest, to establish royal authority in Cornwall.

How did they get up there with all that armour and their horses way back when?

There once were floors and rooms for the Earl of Cornwall

That spout is the privy drain ....

Louise is convinced that there was a White Hart pub or inn or hotel in every town we passed through. Here's the one in Launceston.

Finally, we drove through the much more tame-looking Exmoor and crossing the River Barle, arrived at our destination, the tiny hamlet of Withypool.

Our room was right at the top of the fire escape!

The Royal Oak's cozy tavern. Excellent food!