Splish splash across Bodmin Moor

To the eastern edge of Bodmin Moor to recce a potential route for one of our walking groups. A sunny, reasonably clear day but not a day without incident - and wet feet. All part of life's rich tapestry, methinks.

A circular route, starting and ending near North Bowda farm. On the face of it, there are lots of potential parking spaces on the lane edges but, when the verges are soft, beware of getting bogged down. We covered just under 5 miles. Note the zig zag just before Fox Tor. Fox Tor was our target but this involved going across Redmoor Marsh. The clue is in the name - marsh - and it was, in parts, a knee-deep wade through a ......marsh. After that we decided to divert around Fox Tor rather than go up and over. Note to selves: next time, take a longer route to the west and then go up the ridge to Fox Tor.

A stone cross on the side of The Ridge. Some accounts say that this is 'ancient'. Wrong. Apparently it dates from around 1920s or thereabouts and commemorated someone killed in a riding accident. You can just make out two lines of letters but they are not decipherable. The top of the cross is quite loose and it can't be that long before it falls off when someone gives it a shake. Ooops, how did we know it was loose?

All around the walk, we came across archaeology of one form or another. Quite a few of these structures: obviously man-made from the cut marks on the granite but for what purpose? Animal shelters, perhaps? Or dwellings?

Nine Stones Circle, looking a little wetter than when I was here the previous week. Look at the blue sky. It really was a glorious day and just the right temperature for walking.

Drying off after our encounter with Redmoor Marsh. What was strange was that we had cross an area called Watery Marsh with completely dry feet. Perhaps this beguiled us (OK, me) dropping our defences. However, as the only consequences were four wet feet and a striking memory, it could have been worse.

Lots of Lesser Celandine around at this time of year. A striking yellow flower, giving early bees a feed.

A common form of style we encounter in these parts. Sometimes they are quite difficult to make out, particularly if the sign posts are missing.

A medieval parish was defined by its boundaries at a time when it was important that villagers and their neighbours should know and respect the limits of the parish – hence the yearly walking or beating of the bounds at Rogation time. Such parish boundaries were often marked by natural features in the landscape, such as streams, large trees or boulders, which could all be used to define the parish size and shape. Where there was no obvious geographical feature, boundary stones were erected and these vary in size and shape and sometimes the site is also marked by other boundary stones from adjacent parishes. The one above marks the boundary between Altarnun and North Hill parishes. The A for Altarnun is clearly visible and, I would presume, the other side is probably incised with N or NH for North Hill. The boundary marker would pre-date the stone wall at the back of it. A small thing in itself and easy to miss but I think that these important historical artefacts are worth preserving and observing. They were obviously of great significance in their original context.

Just an old wall but a wall covered in a rather pleasing canopy of moss. This growth gives a pretty good feel for the prevailing weather conditions - mild and wet.

Bodmin ponies, rather than their more famous counterparts on Dartmoor. This part of the moor is notable for the numbers of ponies and cattle using it for grazing. It's a working landscape.

Lots of evidence of granite working on the moor. Someone, sometime, had been working on this chunk and I assume had abandoned it when it split in the wrong place. Perhaps it was originally destined to be a lintel or gate post? I wonder how much effort had been expended before the fatal blow that hit the flaw? And how many expletives echoed off the side of the moor just after it was done?

A close encounter with the Beast of Bodmin? No such luck. Just the trail left by my soggy socks as I got into our car at the end. Three miles after the marsh and still soaking wet.