Manaton and Lustleigh Cleave

We travelled to the eastern edge of Dartmoor for this walk. Well, to be accurate, just off the moor but near enough to count. And what a delightful walk it turned out to be but for a non-ambulatory reason. Read on...........

We began and ended the walk in the car park adjacent to the church in Manaton. The route took us into Lustleigh Cleave and, as the elevation profile shows, it was rather up and down. The ups were rather vicious! So much so, that we cut a bit off our intended route to avoid finishing crawling on our knees! Despite that, it was a very enjoyable 5.5 miles in an area we rarely visit.

St Winifred's church, Manaton. But who was Winifred? There are a few ideas but the most popular one is that Winifred was the daughter of a Welsh nobleman living in the 12th century. She had a suitor named Prince Caradoc who took none to lightly the fact that she decided to become a nun and so, in a fit of temper, he beheaded her with his sword. Fortunately her mother’s sister, St. Beuno, reunited the head with the body and Winifred was restored to life. In an act of reprisal St. Beuno prayed to God for vengeance and her prayer was answered when supposedly the earth opened up and swallowed Caradoc. It was also said that on the spot where Winifred’s head fell to the ground a holy well issued forth. All of this raises a number of unanswerable questions with me: why was St Winifred chosen for this particular church? Who made the decision to adopt her name? And did the mediaeval mind really believe the mystic tales woven around such saints?

The woods in Neadon Cleave, covered in moss and lichens. I do love a blanket of green. And cleave? Generally accepted to mean a steep sided valley. And they certainly are cleaved out of the granite.

This is the mighty climb up the side of Lustleigh Cleave, littered with large granite boulders, one of which was Harton Chest.

Harton Chest is a well known viewing point high up in Lustleigh Cleave and juts out of the surrounding woodland. From here, the view is tremendous, looking down into the Cleave and the Bovey Valley Woodlands.  Beyond those are Trendlebere Down and Yarner Wood and the whole area forms the East Dartmoor National Nature Reserve. 

We followed this wall for what must have been the best part of a mile. And all the way it was covered in moss. An impressive testament to the stonewallers' art.

Just a finger post pointing the way for the next stretch. This one was blending in very nicely with the background and took a bit of spotting.

Dropping down to the river, we passed a few Iron Age hut circles. It might seem odd that they are in woodland until you remember that these areas did not always have trees and the huts would have been in open land. The views from here must have been amazing. And the dog? Rusty doing a little exploring.

The Old Clam Bridge in Lustleigh Cleave has been in place for at least 120 years. The logs - which have to be replaced about every 20 years - are roughened to make then non-slip, and walkers also have a hand rail to help them cross the river. A newer, safer footbridge was erected alongside it a few years ago and, I'll admit, that this was the one we used. And the word 'clam'? It's thought to come from the Anglo-Saxon 'clamm', meaning to grip or grasp. which you would certainly have to do whilst balancing on the logs.

Heading up the steep ascent of Woodash. One foot in front of the other and plod along...and up...and up. Strangely, I discovered that plodding and reciting the Welsh for 'I am tired' - dw i wedi blino  (dw.i.we.di.bli.no.dw.i.we.di.bli.no and repeat ad finitum) -  maintained a useful rhythm. You can thank me for this tip when you use it.

The rather attractive group of Water Cottages at Water, near Manaton. Dating from the early 18th Century and now incorporated into a single dwelling. The pump in front is original.

I think this must be the smallest commemorative plaque to a royal event that I've ever come across. But there was a very nice cast-iron lamppost attached to it. Delightfully underwhelming and completely resonating with my republican proclivities. If you really have to recognise a royal event, take the minimalist approach. Power to the people!

There are many reasons to visit St Winifred's and one of them is this 15th Century rood screen. It's a fine example and the images of the saints are really fine - except for the faces determinedly defaced during the Reformation. By whom? Who knows but whoever it was, they were not content with just scratching the faces out, they were gouged out with an implement of some sort. Not merely an act of vandalism but also one with more than a touch of malice. 

The rood screen itself is mostly original but was 'touched up' in the early part of the twentieth century by the redoubtable Pinwill sisters. We've come across their work in many churches and their expertise never ceases to amaze me. And if I can, I always like to run my fingers over their carving in a sort of homage.

Another good reason (in my humble opinion, the best) for visiting the church is this window designed by Frank Brangwyn and made by James Silvester Sparrow. It positively glows and looks as fresh as the day it was installed. There is so much in it to take in and enjoy.

Just look at the faces on these choiristers.

There is a sad story behind this window. It is dedicated to Esmund Hunt, who died at 19, in 1928. Esmund had Downs Syndrome and he is the lad in the centre panel. By all accounts, Esmund adored music; he had a pianola (a self-playing piano) with over 250 rolls of music that he would sit at and work away with the pedals to keep it going.

My pre-reading for our visit had alerted me to look out for this. Behind Esmund is St Cecilia, the patron saint of music. Look closely at her face, is it not full of tenderness and care? I'd speculate that she was the patron saint of Esmund, staying by his side all his life, helping him find a path to cope with a very difficult world. And look at her hand; a good artist can always be assessed by their ability to illustrate hands, and this artist was very good indeed; Sir Frank Brangwyn, thought by many to be too radical, and by others to be too establishment, and by me to be up there with the best. I really like this window and I'd rank it as one of the most memorable I've come across in a country church.