The Storyteller: A twilight adventure lost on snowy Dartmoor

I have to admit, there is nothing quite so magical as seeing Dartmoor covered in snow. Many times I’ve Letterboxed in it, a layer of the white stuff adding a degree of difficulty to the hunt, but as long as you are dressed for it, it can be fun.

Seeing all the recent Winter Wonderland pictures of Dartmoor posted online reminded me of one of those times, and it’s the only time I will own up to coming close to being lost during one of my walks...

The day in question was many years ago, on the Sunday before Christmas, and I was joined by my regular letterboxing buddy, Dave, who, along with our friend Adrian, founded my investigation group, TIP, with me.

Some clues for Christmas Letterboxes had just been released in the monthly updates, and one in particular had caught my eye...a stamp of The Star of David. In my mind, two Davids searching for the Star of David just before Christmas just had to be done! What I hadn’t bargained on was finding the moor covered in snow, with low-lying fog...

The box was hidden amongst rocks, near to King’s Barrow, which is below Hambledon Ridge, just up the valley from the well-preserved Bronze Age settlement of Grimspound. It was an area I’d walked many times before, so I knew it was a simple case of walking to the box, doing an about turn, and coming back the same way... What could be simpler? Snow and fog weren’t about to hamper our Christmas quest.

Parking at Firth Bridge, by the little stream that runs through the hut circles, we changed into our boots and got suited up against the wintry conditions. From memory, the drive there was fairly easygoing, so it was quite a surprise to find all this untouched snow greeting us. Undeterred, we set off up the track leading to Grimspound and beyond.

We took our time, as I was convinced this would be a pretty easy find, and just enjoyed trudging through the pristine snow. The whiteness of the fog blended in with the whiteness of the snow, but this didn’t hamper my sense of direction...

Soon, we came across the barrow, and, as best I could, I used my compass to check out the bearings in the surrounding landscape, as mentioned in the clue. It didn’t take long to find the box amongst the rocks of King Tor, just below the mound of King’s Barrow. It was a beautiful stamp, definitely worth the effort, giving us both a sense of achievement at having completed our mission for the day.

As I said, this is an area I’ve visited many times, and, on occasion, I’ve found a herd of longhorn cattle grazing there. Sadly, this time, they had obviously found somewhere better to be, leaving the snowy landscape to the foolhardy, like Dave and myself. Taking in the stunning vista one last time and realising we were starting to lose the light—not that it made much difference with the fog having hung around all day—it was time to turn around and follow our footprints back... but this was where things started to go a bit wrong...

It had taken us a bit of walking around in the same location before we finally found our prize, so it wasn’t easy to follow the same path back. Instead, I did what I normally do and followed my nose, striking out in what I thought was the right direction.

We hadn’t gone very far when a bank of fir trees started looming up in front of us in the dimpsy light... trees that we hadn’t passed on our outward journey. Not overly bothered, I changed tack slightly and strode on. Poor Dave, his night vision isn’t the best, so he places his faith in me to get him back to the car safely and just follows on behind... I had no desire to let him down this time...

Unfortunately, having not moved on very far, more trees started looming up... this was definitely not the right way back! Stopping to access our situation properly, I realised that the hillside was sloping up behind us; this would be heading up to Hambledon Right, and the car would be down the slope on the other side. Feeling more confident after our little detour, I started leading us upwards.

Once again, we hadn’t gone very far when I noticed torchlights in the fog higher above us. This was the first sign of other people out in the snow that we had seen all day, and my first reaction was that this was a search party out looking for us, as my wife must have gotten worried and called out the Dartmoor rescue group, or something like that. As I was now very confident that I could get us back to the car safely, I didn’t want the embarrassment of having to be rescued, so, in order to save face, I steered us on a course away from the torches and hoped they didn’t see or hear us passing them. However, as we got closer, I realised they weren’t moving; they were actually consulting a map, and it suddenly dawned on me that maybe they were the ones who were lost. Not wishing to abandon someone in their hour of need, I approached them with the intention of offering my services. It turned out that they were a party of work colleagues who had met for Sunday lunch in Widecombe in the Moor, then headed out for a walk in the snow, intending to get back in time for an evening meal. By now it was way too late for that, and they were a bit lost! The group was too big to get into my car to drive them back to theirs, and I didn’t want to risk just pointing them in the right direction, just in case they got lost again. Instead we decided to join forces, and I would lead them back to Widecombe in return for a lift back to Firth Bridge.

Heading back down the hill, I knew there was a gate that would let us out onto a lane that would lead us back to the village, which was still a few miles away, but that was the safest way to go. However, in the dark, it would still be difficult to find this gate, so, once we reached the hedgerow at the bottom, not being sure whether to go right or left, we ploughed on through the foliage and found ourselves in the garden of a big house. Thinking that there must be a way out of this property onto the lane, we marched around to the front of the house, with the intention of asking permission from the owners first, before proceeding. At the front, we spotted them in different rooms, the wife in the kitchen, the husband in his study, both completely oblivious to the group of people standing in their garden, calling and waving to them, trying to get their attention. It was completely surreal, as if this was an everyday occurrence, and they just chose to ignore us. Fortunately, one member of the group had carried on to find the entrance, and, when they did, they called out, so we abandoned trying to ask permission and just exited the garden, leaving the owners none the wiser to our presence.

Finally, we were on the long lane back to Widecombe, but the distance didn’t matter, as we now had new acquaintances to get to know, who suddenly became our best friends when it turned out they had just had their company Christmas do, where they were all presented with chocolate selection boxes, and some of them had theirs in their rucksacks...we feasted whilst we walked!

Once back at their cars, it didn’t take long to drive us back to mine, where they left us, being most grateful for the assist, and I was equally grateful that they weren’t members of Dartmoor Rescue! What an adventure!

They call getting lost on Dartmoor being Pixie Led, but I’m adamant that I wasn’t lost that day. However, something certainly led me to those walkers to rescue them in their hour of need.