A Summer of Wild Camping Pt 2 - Devon

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,

But to be middle aged was VERY Devon.

(Taking a slight liberty with William Wordsworth...)

I have Devon in my blood. Not exactly 'cut me and I bleed clotted cream' (which should always go on before the jam, of course...) as I grew up in the Black Country, but it is there. I've talked about my half Welsh heritage a bit before, but my Mum's side comes from Devon, and she and my two sisters both live there. It's a place I visit once or twice a year, and Mum's bungalow backing on to the beautiful Exe Estuary is the hub of family holidays. I feel very lucky to have this family connection to such a lovely place.

That said, as is often the case when you have family living somewhere, I haven't seen an awful lot of Devon. We tend to just stay put in the seaside town of Exmouth, park the car and not touch it again, as it's a great place to walk around, chill and entertain the kids. Not moaning, but I've always been a little ashamed that I haven't seen more of the county.

Well an opportunity to do just that came up at the end of the summer hols.

Just to recap the end of Pt 1... 

I had to get my two teenage kids down on the train to Exmouth in South East Devon, where my brother, sister and countless cousins were taking them on to Plymouth to catch a ferry to Brittany for a week's luxurious camping - waterslides, electric hook ups, that sort of thing. I wasn't going, and the wife was back in Staffordshire working.

So I stayed at my Mum's for the last week of August waiting for their return, spending some long overdue quality time with her, whilst also looking to sneak in a camp at some point. I had either a Jurassic Coast clifftop bivvy in mind, or possibly a trip up to Dartmoor. Seeing as it's the only place in England and Wales where wild camping is allowed, Dartmoor seemed too good an opportunity to miss...

However, the weather wasn't great earlier in the week, and it's notoriously hostile up there even when fine at lower ground. So I had to delay that, hoping for a clearing later in the week. I was also a bit worried that a bivvy up on the local cliffs could just be a frustrating evening sharing the camp with local yoot, who I'd convinced myself were bound to be up to no good with their monkey dust pipes and Trappist music in the height of summer, so I decided to shelve this for another visit during colder months.

So on a whim, one dry evening I decided to try a camp on the estuary, a couple of miles' walk away. A pleasant wander up there earlier in the day had revealed a pretty perfect spot. We were on!

River Exe Estuary Bivvy Camp

At 6pm I set off from the bungalow into the warmish air with a light pack and wearing shorts, t-shirt and sandals, which felt very odd. I didn't need to pack meals as I enjoyed a winner winner chicken dinner with Mum early evening, and would be back for brekkie. The lack of tent also lightened the load considerably. My Birkenstocks did bring me out in a nasty blister though by the time I got there.

It was a slightly anxious and frustrating start to this camp - I was feeling more edgy than usual, perhaps due to the very different location, and the proximity to people. It was Bank Holiday Monday after all, and there were teens hanging out nearby, plus the odd walker strolling past, staring at my setup. There was evidence of previous campfires nearby too, which made me wonder if I may be joined by other campers later - not something I relished. I struggled to get a good pitch on the tarp (no trees for a ridge line, I'd nicked my Mum's walking poles) and the moderate breeze didn't help. Also, I spent half a sodding hour trying to light my UCO candle lantern, due to a combo of a piddling little wick, and a fag lighter that wouldn't hold a flame, despite being full of fluid. I actually cut my knuckle on the sharp edges of the UCO in trying this, and wasn't aware until I saw blood everywhere. But I did just about manage to get it going in the end, cursing and vowing to buy one of those flame thrower jet propelled windproof lighters before my next camp.

Despite all that, once the sun was setting I had the place to myself and could start to enjoy watching it sink across the still, silvery water. A couple of cans of salted caramel porter also helped lubricate the transition from stress to fun. There were virtually no insects - too close to the shore for mozzies, but far enough away to avoid sandflies. A breeze even kept moths etc away. The calls of the estuary's famous birdlife beeped and chirped and squawked in a most relaxing soundtrack as darkness crept in.

It was a semi clear sky and I could see a few stars and even some fireworks over Torquay. I heard them about 20 seconds after seeing them, they were that far away. By the time I fell asleep I was peaceful and calm and very glad I'd made the effort. Camping next to a large expanse of water like this was a new one for me, and felt very special.

Morning was a bit different though. It was chucking it down when I woke around 6 and the wind had picked up. The small tarp was doing its job and I enjoyed a coffee whilst I sat out the conditions, but there was a  problem. My groundsheet was just a little too wide to be fully under the tarp. This meant that water streamed off the shelter's sloping roof and onto the edges of the groundsheet, only to be directed down into the concave dip created by my fat arse. After a while it became obvious that I was sleeping in a big puddle. Having said that, the Klymit sleeping mat and Snugpak bivvy bag kept the sleeping bag (and thus, me) bone dry - I wasn't really aware of it until packing away when I knelt in it...

Only one person came past all morning, a runner at around 6:30 who had the inevitable unleashed pup, which came bounding over to trample on all my stuff whilst the owner ineffectually called it back from miles away. Grrrr!

Once packed (I even fluffed the grass back up so there was no trace whatsoever) I hobbled home with plasters on my blistered toe and butchered knuckle - plasters which kept coming off in the wet. I was glad to get back to the bungalow for a cuppa with Mum and a plate of scrambled eggs. Warm and sunny for the rest of the day, I was also able to dry everything out on her washing line in no time. Packed up and ready for round two..

A short vid of the camp :

Hike and Wild Camp on Dartmoor

Turned out there was only going to be one potential evening with suitable weather for this, whilst also avoiding bank holiday weekend crowds, so I just went for it.

There's not exactly an abundance of public transport over this notoriously underpopulated place. The best I could manage was a train to Exeter, then a bus on to the north east fringe of the National Park to the little town of Moretonhampstead. From here it would mean a good few miles of hiking to get to the moors and tors - no bad thing. I'd invested in a paper OS map with protective cover, as I wanted to see if I could wean myself off relying on the OS map app I have on my phone, and brush up on navigation skills with the aid of a compass, old skool stylee.

I won't break down the resultant 2 days of hiking and camping in writing here as I feel the following vid really sums it up. Suffice to say Dartmoor delivered : I had a fantastic if tiring time up there on a less well known spot away from car parks and day trippers. It has a tangible wild romance all of its own, and I was like a kid in a sweet shop looking at the seemingly endless expanse of rolling heather flecked moors, ancient archaeological remnants, and jagged anthropomorphic tors that stretched out before me. I will return for sure....

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(Click here to read the next adventure - hammock camping!)

©Rich Lane 2019

A Summer of Wild Camping Pt 1 - Staffordshire

Apologies for the hiatus - it's been three months since my last post. A whole season! It's not that I haven't been anywhere this summer - far from it. Plenty of local camps and a couple further afield - but more on that later.

Early August saw me on a long two day Vespa trip to South Wales and back. A scenic affair which finally allowed me clear views of The Brecon Beacons, but unfortunately a sad one too,  prompted by my Aunty passing away,  her funeral being held in Aberdare. This was the same Aunty I mentioned in this entry last Easter, so I feel very guilty that I didn't make more of an effort to spend time with her back then.

On the camping front, there were a couple of three day work trips to The Peak District, helping out on the silver Duke of Edinburgh award. The first was during what one highly experienced DofE instructor described as 'the worst June weather I've ever seen round here' (Storm Miguel - some of the 6th formers gave up and called their mums to pick them up...) whist the other was hot and sunny. Both were great fun, thanks largely to the company of some very sound colleagues.

 As for my own off piste camping exploits, here are some of the highlights :

Bike Packing Tryout - May

This was technically late spring but worth a mention. It was the same Eccleshall field I'd been to a couple of times before, only I decided to cycle there as the weather was fine and I'd just bought some panniers for my bike.

It was an experiment with what they call 'bikepacking' although of course I wasn't going all that far. Very satisfying to get everything off my shoulders and into the panniers though, and I managed to make myself quite comfortable with the DD Tarp in a 'tent' configuration.

Despite wearing shorts for the ride, I was glad I'd packed thermals as the temperature plummeted overnight, frosting up the tarp and bivvy for the last time before summer. Then by noon the following day I was back sweltering in shorts at the local beer garden. This country is like sub Saharan Africa sometimes - extreme!

Solstice Woodland Bivvy - June

I'd been lucky in gaining permission from another local landowner around this time, in some lovely secluded woods. I fancied the idea of waking up outdoors on the longest day, which was a Friday. So Thursday night I trundled off via the pub, reasoning that I had as much daylight as it's possible to get for once! On arriving however I was a bit gutted to see how overgrown with nettles and brambles everywhere was - so I spent a good hour creating a clearing on a flat spot. This put me behind on the main task - setting up a new small tarp/bivvy combo and collecting/processing wood to cook the lamb steaks and curry I had brought along. I just about managed it and in the late darkness I enjoyed the messy indulgence of the pink, flame grilled lamb all the more for the hard work.

It was a shock how many proper mosquitoes there were trying to ravage me though - I really didn't think we got them around these parts, but they are certainly thriving and very aggressive! Despite spraying with the recommended DEET napalm-like product, and keeping all but hands and face covered, they somehow still managed to make a right mess of my legs and lower back. My summer sleeping bag has a bug net built in luckily - but that meant they were buzzing a few millimeters from my ears trying to get at me all night. Most off putting!

A VERY early start as of course dawn was around 5am, plus I had to be at work same as usual. So all in all a bit rushed and not a lot of chilling time, but still a good experience. I managed to make a video too which outlines some of the kit I used.

I submitted some of the photos I took into a summer solstice photo competition run by outdoors brand Alpkit and Alistair Humphreys, the man who came up with the concept of the 'microadventure'. Not sure which one they liked exactly but I won a prize - a signed copy of his book, which I can thoroughly recommend, especially if you need persuading to have a go at this sort of thing yourself as it is full of practical info and inspirational thoughts.

Horsey Bivvy No 1 - June

Another spur of the moment school night job, taking advantage of the longer evenings. I headed off  from home after tea with a small rucksack, bivvy, groundsheet and wine.It was the same location as my 'Kip In A Hedge After The Pub' last December - the one 10 mins from home with the cheeky horses. The absence of a tarp meant I had my first night falling asleep staring directly at a starry sky - magic!

The 'osses didn't disappoint and I was woken by them towering over me at dawn... Home by 6:30 for coffee and brekkie, then straight to work a bit bleary eyed - unfortunately summer camping means even less sleep!

A return to 'Bluebell Wood' - July

A tent based job, all be it the trusty coffin of the Ionosphere, this time with a small tarp attached as a porch, and draped in camo net. I was initially aiming for the same location as Easter's Bluebell Wood camp, but once again summer growth meant that nettles, brambles and (especially) bracken made it impossible to get to. The ferns did however provide good natural cover for a stealth camp. I was really chuffed with this little set up, not to mention the pan fried lamb I rustled up for tea.

Rainy Woodland - July

6 weeks off work - get in!!!

And then the rain starts...

Back to the clearing I made on the Solstice, this time in rather different weather - an exceptionally wet spell that lasted a few days. A very similar setup, but using the bigger tarp so that I had more chance of keeping the stuff dry, plus I had finally bought a British Army Goretex bivvy bag, which I was dying to try out. It's a lot more roomy and robust than my lightweight Snugpak one (which is still excellent, I must say) and I slept very well, mozzies aside!

Essentially a masochistic exercise in walking, setting up, and managing a camp in very wet weather, I did keep dry throughout. In fact it was downright cosy under the tarp at night in the warm glow of a new candle lantern. This was fitted with a cintronella candle to try and help ward off the bugs, but by morning there were three or four mozzies which had actively climbed in and got stuck in the wax - seems they can't resist it!

I'd heard folk talk of how nice the sound of rain on a tarp at night can be, and they are right - presuming you are tucked under it of course.

Father and Son Peak District Camp

After months of nagging, and a few missed windows of weather, I finally dragged my 13 year old son on a proper hilltop wild camp, to the exact same spot (Axe Edge) I'd gone to on the Vespa back in March, although we took the bus and attempted a much longer walk (15 miles or so over 2 days).

What swung it was his interest in doing the DofE with school next year. It's an expensive job, that - over 200 quid - and I reasoned that he should come along with his old Dad for a taster of the 'expedition' aspect before we commit - as he may hate it!

He certainly didn't like walking with a heavy (10kg) pack on his narrow back for a few miles up hill and down dale, but seemed to quite enjoy the camp itself, and wasn't phased by being up on a moor miles from anywhere. He had his own very capable little tent - a Vango Nevis 100, which costs 10% what my Hilleberg did - but which performed perfectly. The weather turned bad during the night but he took a brooding and ominous day 2 walk into Buxton all in his stride. He gave the whole experience 8/10 - result!

The walk and camp were again edited into a Youtube vid :

Horsey Bivvy No 2 - August

Fresh off the success of getting one of my kids out, I managed the unthinkable - persuading his older sister (15) out too! Only for a day camp at the horsey field again mind. A few sunny hours cooking bacon and cheese oatcakes.

I on the other hand was determined to sleep out so bought the necessary kit. I even bought spares of everything in the hope I would tempt at least one of them to stay too, but they didn't bite and left at teatime. As it happens, this was for the best as about 10 mins latter it started chucking it down, and didn't stop until nearly midnight - which saw me huddled under a very small tarp configuration to keep dry. The British Army Bivvy worked brilliantly when it came to bedtime though - I was still bone dry in the morning.

This last camp takes up most of the second half of this vid, which also contains clips of  a few of the other summer camps mentioned. (*WARNING* - Contains gratuitous shots of sizzling lamb...)

The final week of the summer hols saw both kids going (ironically, and slightly infuriatingly) off to France for a camping holiday with their Uncle, Aunts, and cousins. The wife was at work, and although I was invited, everyone knew that a busy campsite with loads of facilities wasn't really for Dad. I had to drop the kids off in Devon where my Mum and sister live in order for them to get a ferry from Plymouth, so I decided I would stay with my old Mum in Exmouth for the week, until they got back.

I took a rucksack full of camping gear with me in the hope I may sneak in a camp whilst there.

Would I have any luck? Would the weather play ball? You'll have to read part 2 to find out...

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©Rich Lane 2019