The King, The Prince & Their Secret Millions

 (I probably should point out that we have an involvement with the Duchy of Cornwall in that it has an absolute claim on the mineral rights of our property. And for that privilege, and potential earnings, they do nothing. That's enough to make me a Republican. Oh, hang about.....)

I've just caught up on Channel 4’s Dispatches programme which revealed the extent to which the public is being charged/milked/scammed by the Windsor family. Or rather, at least the extent to which the programme and the investigative reporters of the Sunday Times were able to uncover. The Windsors go to great lengths to keep their finances a secret. This is an immense help to them when they plead poverty and ask for yet another increase to the money that they get from the government (ie the taxpayers) every year. The property portfolios which generate millions a year for Charles and his oldest son are a closely guarded secret. Even parliament itself has been refused access to the list of properties and land held by the Royals. These properties are part of the holdings of the Duchy of Cornwall which funds the heir to the throne, and the Duchy of Lancaster which funds the monarch.

The Windsors insist that these are private property when it comes to avoiding public scrutiny, but part of the monarchy when it comes to avoiding paying the same taxes that any other private property holdings company would be liable for. Yet these properties were not acquired in the normal way that a property holding company acquires property. The two duchies are making many millions of pounds every year by charging government departments, local authorities, NHS Health Boards, businesses, mining companies and the general public via a series of commercial rents and feudal levies on land which, for the most part, was seized by medieval monarchs from those that they deemed enemies, or from those whose lands they just felt like helping themselves to. Charles and his son owe their fortunes literally to robber barons. Medieval monarchies were not charitable institutions and the modern royals are continuing in the same vein, funding their luxurious lifestyle on the backs of we the peasants.

The Duchies operate as commercial landlords even though they have a special agreement with the Treasury exempting them from paying tax on their corporate profits. The Duchies are not directly funded by the taxpayer but leases and contracts in the King and Prince’s own names show they are making millions of pounds a year by charging the army, the navy, the NHS, the prison service and state schools to use their land, rivers and seashores. Yes, they own seashores. Real seashores.

The tax free income that the royals receive from the Duchies is in addition to the Sovereign Grant, which currently stands at £132 million annually which they receive from the government. This is meant to cover the cost of the royals’ official duties, palaces and households. Last year, the Duchy of Lancaster raised £27.4 million tax free for the King and the Duchy of Cornwall raised £23.6 million in tax free for the Prince of Wales. This is considered private income which the royals can spend as they see fit. The King and the Prince ‘voluntarily’ pay income tax on that part of their income from the Duchies which they deem not to relate to their official duties. The rest of us don’t get the chance to claim that we only pay tax voluntarily and to decide for ourselves which portion of our incomes we are going to pay income tax on.

But the property holdings of the Duchies are not all that the royals possess. One consultancy company put the combined wealth of the royal family at £67.5 billion. By any reckoning, these are extremely wealthy people. Yet, this huge wealth does not prevent the royals from charging rent and creaming off hard pressed public services. According to the Sunday Times: “The Duchy Files show the royals charge for the right to cross rivers; offload cargo onto the shore; run cables under their beaches; operate schools and charities; and even dig graves. They earn revenue from toll bridges, ferries, sewage pipes, churches, village halls, pubs, distilleries, gas pipelines, boat moorings, opencast and underground mines, car parks, rental homes and wind turbines.”

Amongst other findings of the investigation is the revelation that the NHS will pay the Duchy of Lancaster £12.4m over 15 years in order to rent a warehouse in London for ambulances. In January last year, the Duchy of Lancaster said it was pleased to be of assistance when Guy’s and St Thomas’ NHS Foundation Trust needed to find garage space for a new fleet of electric vehicles it was buying to tackle ambulance waiting times and it put out a press release saying that it had “granted” the trust a warehouse close to Tower Bridge. The press release omitted to say that the Duchy would be charging the Trust an annual rent of £829,348. That totals £12,440,220 over the 15 years of the lease. The NHS has been starved of funds for years but that is of no consideration to the Duchy of Lancaster. The NHS Trust which Charles is milking to the tune of £12 million is so strapped for cash that it has been forced to make job cuts, axing 58% of the roles in its Facilities and Capital Development team, the staff responsible for transport and construction projects.

The Duchies were retained by the monarchy in the 18th century when the bulk of the Crown Estates were surrendered to the government in return for clearing the debts of George the Prince Regent, later King George IV, and with the agreement that the government would fund the day to day expenses of the monarchy. At the time neither Duchy was seen as particularly valuable. Over the succeeding decades, obsequious British Governments agreed to the effective annexation of these state properties by the royals as their private and personal property.

Meanwhile the value of the holdings of the Duchies has ballooned and both Duchies have holdings far beyond their traditional territorial bases in Cornwall and Lancashire. Today they are modern property businesses with extensive assets spread across England which are jointly worth £1.8 billion, according to their annual reports. Adjusted to today’s prices, annual profits from the Duchy of Cornwall have soared from around £2.5 million in 1960 to £23.6 million today while profits from the Duchy of Lancaster have increased over the same period from about £2.5 million to £27.4 million. Charles pays only £5.9 million in income tax on the Duchy of Lancaster’s profits, about 25% of the profit he receives. He pays no other taxes on this income.

Recently to much fanfare, the Prince of Wales released a documentary about his ‘efforts’ to tackle homelessness. To no one’s great surprise these efforts do not extend to giving away any of his or his family’s land or obscene wealth or allowing homeless people to take up residence in any of his family’s many palaces and homes.

There has been no great publicity in the British media about the wealth and hypocrisy of the Windsors. The BBC has ignored the story completely. But it will be the first to tell us how “radiant” William’s wife is looking as it continues to perpetuate the fantasy that this is one happy family which cares about the lives of ordinary people. The lack of coverage of the revelations in the Dispatches report from the royal correspondents, whose job it is to report on the British Royal Family, is not surprising in the least. The same so-called journalists who promoted Prince William’s homelessness project are silent on his failures as an actual landlord. That tells you all you need to know, both about the greed of the royals, and the British establishment and its client media. Power to the people, I say, power to the people.

We don't just walk on Dartmoor

Just to show that we don't just walk on Dartmoor, here's a rather nice route on the eastern fringes of Bodmin Moor. It has a different feel to Dartmoor and it's one that's grown on me over the years.

A fairly straightforward route of 5.5 miles starting at the car park for the Halvana Plantation. After a mile or so on tracks through the plantation, we crossed East Moor to Rushford and Carey Tor. From there, it was a simple trek across to Fox Tor and then back through Eastmoorgate. 

Tourists bombing it down the A30 into deepest Cornwall will pass the  Halvana Plantation but very, very few will visit. The dark, foreboding mass of trees makes the uninitiated wary – something only an evergreen forest can accomplish. It covers 186 hectares and there are many well made tracks running through it. There are also quite a few not-so-well made tracks!

With war looming on the horizon at the beginning of the 20th Century, Britain could no longer rely on timber imports. Woodland resources in England covered just 5% of land area by 1917, due to demands during the First World War (especially trench warfare and the need for pit props in the coal mines). In 1919 the Forestry Act came into force and conifer plantations like Halvana were established to ensure a strategic reserve of timber. It is a shame that many of the ancient broadleaved woodland areas around England were cleared to make way for the faster-growing conifer trees.

Whilst some plantations are gradually being replanted with native species, Halvana Plantation remains as a fascinating stretch of woodland to amble through and explore. The interior of evergreen plantations have a tendency to be dry dead places, due to the needles blocking out light and suffocating the forest floor. This forest is the complete opposite, with an endless carpet of moss creeping over everything, including up the trunks of trees.

Even the odd piece of litter is absorbed into the forest and quickly becomes something special. This glass bottle has turned into a tiny biome, complete with plants growing inside it. I look out for it every time we are walking here but I don't always find it. This time I did.

Could be one of my favourite trees. Isolated and windswept - just as I like them.

The ruins of the farm at Rushyford. Abandoned for some 80 years and, before then, it was used as a smithy and probably serviced the neighbouring farms. So many of these are now derelict and/or disappeared that it's difficult to appreciate how populous the area was 'back in the day'. And be amazed that the ivy covering comes from the single stem, coming in at an angle on the left. 

Imagine a family huddling around this fire on a bleak and dark winter's evening with a storm raging outside. Could be quite cosy.

The ford at Rushyford Gate, not that it was on our route. The Withey Brook is quite a barrier to unprepared walkers for most of the year. It is quite wide so leaping across is not an option. Debooting and paddling seems to be the most commonly adopted solution.

A huge chunk of granite on the way up to Carey Tor. Look closely and you make out the distinctive drill marks of someone who worked hard to split it. Why, after so much work, was this abandoned in situ? Did it split in the wrong way? Was it no longer needed? We'll never know but I hope he was paid for his labour.

Granite boulders, a blue sky and clouds from Carey Tor. And, in the distance, a buzzard could be heard mewing.

Some interesting and rather unusual weathering on these boulders. Normally, the cup marks are seen on the top surfaces.

Looking westwards, with Kilmar Tor in the distance and Trewortha Tor creeping in from the right. A favourite area for those who know Bodmin Moor and one less frequented by the casual visitor.

A rather bedraggled but still cheerful group at the trig point on the top of Fox Tor. There was no view! Compare this photograph with the others and you'll appreciate the truth of the statement that "if you don't like the weather on Bodmin Moor, wait five minutes and you'll get something different"! It applies equally to Dartmoor.

Dartmoor Walk: Widgery Cross and its surrounds

The weather is changing and we are heading into what are usually rather unpredictable autumnal and wintery patterns. As a  good day was promised, I thought it would be a reasonable idea to tackle some high ground whilst the going was still relatively dry and without high winds. In the event, it worked out quite well.

The route we completed was not the route I had planned. A few modifications had to be made to accommodate 'changes on the ground'. It came in at 5 miles but some would say that scaling Brat Tor added 6 miles of additional effort. Great views all the way around and enough features to keep everyone interested.

It's always a little disconcerting when where you are heading is obscured by mist. Luckily, it cleared fairly soon after I took this shot.

After negotiating the stepping stones of the River Lyd, our route took us more or less straight up the tor in front - shown on the OS map as Brat Tor, but also known as Bray Tor or, erroneously, Widgery Tor.

The view from the back marker - me!

Widgery Cross: this is so named because it was erected by William Widgery to commemorate Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee in 1887. Its location on top of Brat Tor means it is visible for miles around.
William Widgery himslef  was born in 1826 in North Molton and trained as a stone mason. He then moved to Exeter and took up painting in his spare time.  Apparently his pictures ere spotted hanging in a pub by a chap called Thomas Hex who persuaded him to give up his job to paint full-time. Widgery was successful and prolific, painting over 3,000 landscapes many of which featured Dartmoor.  He moved to Lydford in 1880 and built a house, now The Lydford House Hotel. Widgery died in 1893.

Some interesting moss-covered laminations of the granite on the leeward side of Brat Tor.

Widgery Cross from the way down to Doetor Brook. It felt as high to get there as it looks. Lots of granite clitter to pick our way around. I like the band of golden bracken - autumn is truly with us.

A granite post on the slopes of Doe Tor marked with TRDC. There are four such TRDC stones in close proximity to each other marking out an enclosure for a water intake for Tavistock Rural District Council. Water was taken from Doe Tor Brook into a leat to supply nearby Lydford.

 Doetor Brook/ Doe Brook/Doe Tor Brook was quite full and we had to walk up a fair stretch of it to reach a spot that was narrow enough for us to jump across safely. It's not a place for false heroics - or wet feet. It actually gurgles out of a spring which sits at an altitude of 504m. From there it tumbles down about 2.91km to meet the River Lyd, which awaits its waters a good 262m below. Admittedly, it's not one of Dartmoor’s most spectacular brooks but it does run through some spectacular moorland before being diluted into oblivion by the Lyd. Doe Tor Brook makes a brave but brief statement upon the vast landscape of Dartmoor and one, that in my opinion, is well worth experiencing. But keep your feet dry!

Sharp Tor to the left, Hare Tor to the right and Doe Tor in the foreground. Now that's what I call a panoramic view and it was pretty much the sort of vista we walked in all the way around. 

An ovine sentinel on one of the outcrops of Doe Tor.

Another granite post. WD16? In 1903 the War Department marked out Willsworthy Firing Range by placing 46 granite boundary posts inscribed with the letters 'WD' (War Department) and a sequential number (1 to 46) around this section of north west Dartmoor.

From the lower slopes of Great Links Tor looking back towards Brat Tor on the right and Doe Tor on the left. In the distance, the view extends to Cornwall.

Looking across old mine workings towards Arms Tor.

The extensive Tinners’ Streamworks and Openworks  of the Rattlebrook Mine. These could be the most impressive I've seen on Dartmoor. And, intermingled with all this are the remains of peatworks. For the latter, peat was cut, dried and then burnt to produce peat tar. It is yet another example of a failed venture on the moor.

Arms Tor, again, which we did not visit on this occasion. I could not persuade anyone to join me on the diversion to take it in.

Back at the Lyd stepping stones and Brat and Arms Tors basking in the sunlight. For those who don't want to use the stepping stones, there is a handy bridge on the left.

Dull, boring but eminently satisfying

Recently my Bosch Multitool had an attack of the "won't switch on's" mid job, and an alternative battery installed into it immediately heated to worrying levels. Today, I got to taking it apart in the hope that something would show as obviously wrong in such a way that I could 'unwrong' it and not have to replace it. A touch of the Repair Café philosophy: don't bin it, fix it. My next step, indeed, would have been to take it to the esteemed Stoke Climsland Repair Café.

The body is held together with Torx head screws, and some of them are quite deepset. But thanks to a very thoughtful Xmas present from Mr and Mrs Griffiths, I had the right size in my tool kit. Thanks are also due to the Bosch design team for their work in making the disassembly obvious. You can imagine (well, some of you might) my surprise and pleasure when I opened the casing and immediately saw the problem! A metallic foreign body wedged between the wires of the battery terminal. That would surely heat up the batteries! The only thing that puzzled me is how it got there? I assumed it had slipped through an opening in the tool's body ....

I removed it, and took the opportunity to clean out dust and grease bearings etc, then I reassembled everything. Having tested the tool as once again working (better than ever, I might add), I then took the object and tried to determine where it had entered. It turns out I could not fit it through any of the few grills and openings anywhere on the tool! Not any way at any angle.

Now I'm pretty certain that Bosch do not use old flat-headed brass slotted screws in their factories, and they certainly don't wedge them between battery terminals, so the most likely explanation is that it got in from something I did... I just don't know how. I will, however, now get even more pleasure from using the tool, knowing that I mended it.

A Dartmoor Walk: Ditsworthy Warren, Eylesbarrow Mine and Upper Plym Valley

Undaunted by a rather unusual weather forecast, we decided to go ahead with our weekly walk. Predicted winds of 11656 mph?  Bring it on. Hurricane, smurricane.

This was, of course, all down to a technical glitch on the BBC Weather site. We were not fooled.

A figure-of-eight walk starting and ending at the 'car park' at Gutter Tor. Off to Ditsworthy Warren House along Edward's Path, then up through Drizzle Combe to Eylesbarrow Tin Mine. From there, we followed the track to Plym Ford and there we started our return roughly following the Plym around the Hartor Tors, to join the main track back to the start. Not a difficult walk but I'll give it a 'low moderate' score. It came out at 6.4 miles and it had enough 'up' to make it a good exercise. And the weather was a lot better than expected. (PS: I have not been able to find out who Edward was).

We come across Dartmoor ponies so often, that I tend to ignore them. But, as these two were doing a good job of ignoring me in return, I thought they deserved recognition. Gutter Tor is in the background.

"How long can a scorpion survive under water?" A fascinating question to find stuck to a post in the middle of Dartmoor. It was probably put there as part of an activity for the nearby Scout Hut? Mr Google tells me that the answer is 48 hours. Do I win a prize?

Ditsworthy Warren House dates from around 1830 and has become a magnet for tourists since it featured in the Spielburg film, War Horse. Ditsworthy was first recorded as a warren in 1676 and rabbit keeping continued up until 1947, when the last warrener left. The house is owned by the Maristow Estate and is used occasionally by the military and for Outward Bound activities. We've been visiting for decades and it still retains its mystery.

And across the Plym, on the slopes of Hen Tor, are two rectangular warrens associated with Ditsworthy. The rabbits keep to the softer soil of the mounds as the rocky nature of the surrounding land is not amenable to burrow-digging.

Just one of the many short leats we came across. They were all part of a patchwork of water-power activities used to drive machinery for the various tin mines in the area.

Looking across to Sharpitor, Leather Tor and Peek Hill, where we were last week. This gives a good feel for the landscape we were walking in. Dog Dora in the foreground.

This row of granite blocks could be mistaken for a stone row of antiquity but they date from the early 1800s. They are guides which held iron flat rods in place as they transferred power from a water wheel/engine house to wherever it was needed. These rods covered a distance of about 200 meters up the side of the hill.

The track of the flat rods ended just before this cluster of buildings of the Eylesbarrow Tin Mine. I could not make out what their function might have been.

Possibly the flat rods were used to service this mine shaft? The tin mine was operational from 1814 to 1852. What a place to work! Just imagine trudging to the mine in typical Dartmoor weather and then having to put in a full shift for a pittance of a wage?

All along our route, we came across artifacts associated with mining activities. There were quite a few old wheel pits of various sizes, sometimes it was easier to guess at what they powered than others. It’s always interesting to try and locate the route of water to these wheels. In this case, the track of the leat can just be made out and, probably, there would have been a few feet of a wooden launder to drop the water directly onto the slats of the wheel.

We parted company with our track at Plym Ford and took a less defined, more cross-country route which roughly followed the line of the River Plym. At this point, the track to the left was part of the Abbots' Way, an old byway used by monks travelling between the abbeys at Tavistock and Buckfastleigh. Dog Dora photobombing again.

Evil Combe is probably not the most inviting place to visit as its name suggests. Its boggy, tussocky and rather dreary to say the least. The upper section of the combe is steep and scarred by the remains of the tin mining industry. The lower section levels off and is covered with mires and quake belly (unstable 'floating' bog) moorland  where the combe meets the River Plym. But the ground in the upper section is not too bad so we stuck to a track that followed the contour of the moor. It cuts across huge gerts and ruined buildings but the walking is straightforward and relatively dry.
Local author, Melanie J. Kirk describes Evil Combe in a much more romantic way: Steep valley edges drop to boggy ground that the sun doesn’t touch, and where nothing but heather dares to grow. The wind, exhausted from its long journey across the moors, howls like the great wild dogs that are rumoured to roam these parts. Some believe the devil himself dwells there. They say he lures unsuspecting hikers from the safe paths above by taking the form of a lame sheep or a lost child. Then he drags them down into the bog below, their calls for help drowned by the wind and the devil’s laughter. They disappear from view, never to be seen again. Sometimes on a rare, calm day, you can still hear the screams. But these are all just rumours. The only ones who know the real reason for the name Evil Combe are the dead.”
It's a good thing I read this description after we'd been there. And the origin of the term? Lost in the mists of antiquity but let's go with Melanie on this one.

Heading across to Lower Hartor Tor, a little bit of Dartmoor tautology. Or, perhaps, the cartographer had a stutter?

Looking back from whence we came. The Plym is not visible but the Langcombe Brook is. This part of the moor is full of points of interest with evocative names. There's Grim's Grave, Deadman's Bottom, Giant's Hill, Great and Little Gnats' Head and, not forgetting, Evil Combe. An etymologist's paradise. And just think what ecstasies a walking etymologist is thrown into.

A rather pregnant mare. Seems to be rather late in the season for this one to be at this stage.

This might look like a fairly nondescript landscape but it's anything but as it encompasses human presence and activity for some 4000 years. Sitting from my vantage point on the edge of an Iron Age hut circle, I can see a Bronze Age barrow (the Giant's Basin) to the left, an Iron Age monolith/ cursis stone at the top of a double stone row in the middle, evidence of medieval tin streaming all along the bottom of the Plym Valley, the rabbit warrens I mentioned earlier, the granite workings around the peaks of the Trowlesworthy Tors on the horizon and, just discernible beyond that, the artificial mounds from the china clay excavations at Lee Moor. Now that's what I call a view.

The last half mile or so dropping back down to the Gutter Tor 'car park'. Another nice panoramic view: Sheepstor to the right, the conifers sheltering the Scout Hut to the left and long views into Cornwall in the distance. This part of the track has been upgraded quite recently to make it more 'wheelchair accessible' but it would still be a very bumpy ride.