Tuesday 24 September

In preparing to come to England I felt a calling to bring part of dad home as I consolidated my own connection. He left England with no regrets for a better life in New Zealand and never had the desire to return. His father’s parting words were, “you can go to the other side of the world, but you cannot run away from yourself”.

In his last months, Dad and I had special conversations where he shared his joys and regrets. I understood at a deep level that he would have liked to have returned (visited) home at some stage, however his other activities took precedence and he ran out of time.

I have a belief system that is spiritual and combines various world views. Being a New Zealander by birth I identify in part with Māori views on the significance of trees and their role in connecting us with our ancestry and environment, including an emphasis of nature being our mother. Without living in harmony and respect with the biosphere (earth to the heavens) that nurtures us, we would cease to exist. There is a lot more to the significance of trees and again I am merely introducing a simplistic concept to share how special this personal experience was for both of us.

Accordingly, before we left Vern assisted by collecting some soil from the joint grave of mum and dad and we errr smuggled it over here in my makeup kit. If questioned I was going to say it was exfoliation product, as the soil in Kawerau is quite volcanic and has small pumice pieces. Thankfully there were no issues with customs.

I did not have a clear idea where I would finally place the soil, initially thinking in the British channel when we go to France. Considering it further, it did not seem right to have Mum and Dad somewhere in the sea and on discussing it with Vernon we felt it as more appropriate to have earth to earth. We had planned to come to Dartmoor and visit Wistman’s wood which is reported to be a very special place, so we decided to bring them along and see if it felt right.

This morning was our last yummy breakfast at the Pendennis, following our quick and efficient pack down we set off on an overcast day with happy memories of another corner of England. On the way we had a quick stop in the Devon area at a Farm called Strawberry Fields. It has a fabulous farm shop with all the local products you could wish for, butchery, bakery, cafe and restaurant. We picked up some fabulous salads to go for 4.50GBP each, cider, potato crisps, delicious strawberries, pasty, cream tea, coffee, and a Chelsea bun. We weren’t hungry, but figured sometime in the day we would be. As it happened we ended up having the picnic at dinner.

The general country side between Cornwall to Devon is rolling hills and farmland. It only took 2 hours to get to Princetown where we are staying, mainly on A35/30 highways which was a relief. I found out from Hilary there was an historic prison here. It dates back to the Napoleonic wars of 1803-1815 and was built to take an overflow of prisoners. It is now a low risk prison focussing on rehabilitation. Our B&B is down the road and called the Duchy Guest house and was built in 1881. Thankfully it has been modernised and we have a lovely comfortable room on the ground floor – if not so comfortable king size bed.

Two Bridges is a spot down the road about 5 minutes, and the starting point for the walk to Wistman’s wood. There is a lovely somewhat posh boutique hotel there which we hope to have dinner at tomorrow. I looked into staying there but the Tarif is triple the Duchy and our budget did not quite extend that far.

Wistman’s Wood is actually a Celtic or Atlantic rainforest – one of the few remaining and a key reason for the creation of the National Park in 1951. Twisted oaks, hazels, birch, rowan, and ash are host to a range of epiphytes. Lichens, mosses, liverworts and ferns carpet the ground level and boulders providing a wonderful air cleansing and bio diverse rich environment for all plant, bird and insect life. A boulder strewn stream flows at the bottom of the valley at the base of the wood. The forest area is quite small and the trees stunted almost like bonsai -not tall like you would imagine. Once there were vast areas of forest like this and thankfully this small part avoided clearing.

It was a relatively easy hike of about 3-4 kilometres each way. Gentle slopes winding along sheep tracks and human paths, boulders and stones guiding the way including crossing a couple of tiny streams.

At first the forest seemed a little disappointing due to its small size and the signs that said you could only walk around the outside. This is to protect all the special mosses and fungi from human damage. We walked round for a bit and chose a place where we felt we could sit and be still. As we contemplated a little robin caught our attention and came closer. I believe birds can be a visitation of the departed; we both immediately felt that this was the place.

I chose the tree in front of us gazing at the bird for confirmation, then solemnly restored the connection to land and ancestors. I listened to the oak tree touching its gnarled bark and marvelled at the veins of a leaf illuminated by the light. Drapes of lichen like lace curtains adorned its twisted branches. I softly glided my fingers over the tiny mosses and fungi, springy underneath my touch. My breath and soul joining the rhythm of the trees in peaceful unison.

The sun smiling in favour broke through the canopy creating dancing, dappled, neon green light across the mossy rocks. Vern brought me back to the present telling me to turn and see the robin who was now close to him. We sat on a rock and shared a can of flavoured organic white tea and biscuits. Robin looked at us expectantly. We threw him some crumbs which he readily ate. We were so happy and contented in silent communion.

The walk back felt so easy and light, despite the incline and my ailments. The last glimpses of sunlight illuminated the moors bringing out golden and red colours, the sheep frolicked playfully in front of us.

At the car park some white geese near the car came up to me. Dad called his orchard and wines “White Goose”. We had a chuckle and returned to the Duchy for a quite night in.