It’s not raining, so we head off to Tavy Cleave to find a dipping spot. We discover a lovely little pool below a shallow cascade overlooked by steeply-pointed Ger Tor. Just below the falls, Honey and I slip into water the colour of ginger cake made with black treacle. I barely notice the chill, and the scent of sheep fades as I dip under. The cascade roars and the birds sing while the wind blusters. I swim against the current, adjusting my stroke as the flow buffets me in order to stay in the same place, and watch a bird of prey hover over the escarpment, jinking in the wind to a similar end.
I float back down past a ginormous Dartmoor slug, black and wrinkled like slightly animated fox poo. A slow worm slides away, beautiful despite appearing to have been decorated by Kelly Hoppen in shades of taupe and cappuccino with just enough iridescence to stay on the right side of tasteful. The bird of prey, a Sparrow Hawk I think, swoops down and vanishes.