In the Line of Duty

Today guest writer our very  own guitarist/violinist vocalist Dave J Lambert (aka Gizmo kid) describes his quest to find a standing stone on Exmoor. 

Mrs Gizmo and I were on Exmoor, at one of my favourite places ever, on Horner Water, near Porlock. After having managed a couple of walks, we were studying the OS map to see where else we could explore, when we noticed that there were some Standing Stones marked on the map, high up on the moors. We thought that perhaps we could walk up there, and take some piccys for possible use by Spriggan Mist. Alas, the weather had turned bad (the wind blew cold on the moor that night) and we were going home the next day.


So, to next morning, about 7am, lying asleep in our camper. Now you should bear in mind that Mrs Gizmo is generally not very coherent at this time of the morning, so the following dialog is a bit surprising (maybe she was encouraged by her success the previous day in managing to get me to fall headlong into the mud at Bossington marshes - as she pointed out later, she did considerately ask me if I was ok, before lapsing into uncontrollable laughing). Anyway:

Mrs Gizmo: You could cycle up.

Me: Urrrrrh

(..couple of minutes delay..)

Mrs Gizmo: You should be back in an hour, and we could still leave early for home

Me: Urrrrrgmg

(..couple of minutes delay..)

Mrs Gizmo: You need your daily exercise - why not this?

Me: Urrrr-oh for god's sake



So somehow I fell (or was kicked) out of bed, still in a half-asleep trance, grabbed my cycle clothes and camera, and got on the bike.

For those of you who do not know this part of Exmoor, it is a glorious place IMHO. Clear streams falling off wild moors, into delightful wooded coombes, and with the sea close at hand. There are generally few tourists about, and even if there are, a short walk can achieve virtual solitude. For walking, horse-riding, or just chilling out it is a lovely spot. The one problem is this: the roads, especially the minor roads, tend to take the shortest route from A to B. When A is at sea-level and B is at 1600ft, this makes for some rather steep climbs on a bicycle. At this early hour I seemed to have forgotten this.

About 200yds out of the camp-site I hit the first climb. Normally I pride myself on not getting off to walk on any hill, no matter how steep. But the extra weight I had put on recently, plus being a bit out of practice, in combination with the early hour (and forgetting to have any breakfast), took their toll, and I was soon walking. This early hill soon become a 1-in-4 gradient. Wheezing and cursing, I managed to half-cycle/half-walk up the first 800ft or so of the climb, when to my horror, the road seemed to disappear in a near vertical drop.

This was Pool Bridge, and with a groan I remembered this from a previous visit. The road dropped to a very picturesque coombe and then rose vertically, cruelly, out the other side. As I descended, the bike accelerated to alarming speeds, and my hands could barely squeeze the brakes hard enough to stop it. As I came towards a halt, the bike decided it wanted to continue, and with the brakes locked and tyres skidding on the damp surface, I headed uncontrollably towards the river, just managing to avoid my second dunking in 24 hours. More wheezing and cursing as I pushed the bike up the other side, still not yet half-way to destination.

As I rose to meet the higher ground, the moor opened out, and the vista was glorious. I came to a fine sight, with a large herd of deer grazing virtually alongside a herd of ponies. As I got my camera out, the deer turned and fled, and didn't get too good a picture.

I came to the first site, where the standing stones were meant to be about 400yds off the road, but I couldnt see them, so went on to the next site just a few hundred yards off, where the stone was meant to be quite close to the road. I found the rough place where it was supposed to be, and 'rough' is a good description - very rough moorland pasture. I could see nothing resembling an ancient monument, but there was a fenced off area a few hundred yards off. I parked the bike and walked towards it. The field got boggier and boggier, and then I realised that the fenced area was around a full-on Hound-Of-The Baskervilles bog, with no stones visible.

So, reluctant as I always am to resort to technology(!), I got the GPS out and tried to hone in on the precise location. Still I could see nothing. I had a wander around, and just caught site of something sticking up above the moorland grass.

I walked over and found a forlorn little stone almost fallen over. Was this it? I could see no other stones of any description, apart from a little one alongside - of course, this was the seat for the Spriggan! I started to warm to this a little (a good job as the wind-chill was starting to take effect), Not exactly Stonehenge or Avebury, but an ancient monument all the same. Maybe it was used to train up novice Spriggan's, or to humiliate those Spriggan's who have fallen foul of Spriggan Law. Or maybe was this Sebastian's 'crap' monument? (to be explained at a later date...). I took a few pictures, being careful not to disturb anything and arouse the Spriggan's wrath, and set off back.

The ride back was a nice glide, followed by a hairy decent into Pool Bridge, a wheezing and cursing climb out, then steep descent back to base. Mrs Gizmo greeted me with a warm welcome, by pointing at her watch and saying "Where have you been? It's been nearly 3 hours!"