A 14-mile weekend hike between Ivybridge and Erme Plains in wild south Dartmoor
My pitch by Hook Lake, a stream on Erme plains, south Dartmoor
Low-season adventures are not only brilliant because it’s a whole lot quieter out there. They’re also marked by the special qualities that come with this time of year: the low golden sun; the crisp air; the fiery colours of the autumn leaves; the long, dark nights that induce a 12-hour sleep; the happy absence of insects.
I didn’t know any of this when I set off for Devon one November weekend a few years ago – I was just craving some fresh air and wholesomeness before I drowned in gallons of mulled wine and hot buttered rum. Now, I think it’s one of the best times to explore. Yes it’s cold, but throw in a load of technical fabrics and it’s glorious.
Dartmoor National Park is the only place in England where you’re legally allowed to wild camp. (Check the map here for the official camping zones.) It’s also within easy reach of London – just three hours on a train from Paddington to Ivybridge, then a 10-minute amble to the southern gateway to the moor – so it’s ideal if you’re new to wild camping or just looking for an easy one-nighter.
Much of Dartmoor is punctuated by villages, roads and tourist attractions, but the south is one of its wildest parts. So, while it may not have the photogenic waterfalls, impressive gorges and vast reservoirs of the east and west, it feels completely off-grid despite it being so accessible.
I took an easy out-and-back route from Ivybridge to Erme Plains, which mostly follows the Two Moors Way footpath and covers around 14 miles in total. From Ivybridge station, you follow the railway line west until you reach a right-hand turn over a bridge. Go up the lane, which becomes a footpath, which becomes a very muddy track once you enter the park through a long gate. (At this time of year, it’s a boggy affair and it pays to make peace with the mud from the start!)
This stretch of the Two Moors Way (a 117-mile trail that goes from Wembury on the south coast to Lynmouth on the north) takes you along the bed of the old Redlake Tramway, which was used for transporting workers and supplies to the moor’s clay works in the early 20th century. It rises for a mile or so before circling Butterdon Hill along a 300m ridge. It then continues to gently climb, passing ancient stone rows, herds of stubborn cows that often block the path and the majestic wild ponies for which the park is famous. If it’s bright and clear, look behind you to the south and you’ll see the shimmering glare of the English Channel.
Wild ponies along the Two Moors Way, Dartmoor
After about four miles, there’s a little copse to your left, down at the bottom of the Erme valley. This would make a cosy little camp if you fancy pitching among the trees. A little further on you’ll cross a bridge over Left Lake where there’s a flooded china clay pit. Its banks make another plum camping spot (I’ve pitched here before in the summer) and it’s also great for wild swimming. But loners, be warned: other people like it too!
Continue along the tramway, then take an increasingly boggy and indistinct path northwest down to Erme Plains. I camped among the sheep by an Erme river offshoot, Hook Lake (to keep us on our toes, ‘lakes’ are streams in Dartmoor). It’s worth hiking a little further up to explore the haunting Erme Pound, a Bronze Age walled settlement – one of the largest in Dartmoor – that includes prehistoric stone hut circles and animal enclosures.
As I pitched my tent, the sun was low and cast long shadows in the grass, which had turned a vivid gold. Before long, just as the sun set, the full moon rose in the pinky-purple sky in the east. It’s easy to see how so much myth and legend was born in this place; that night, under the strange light and beside the gurgling stream, it felt like the moor was enchanted.
The next day I woke up to the sound of ponies drinking from the stream nearby. I opened both sides of my tent and let the morning pass in a misty bliss as I cuddled up in my sleeping bag and read a book until the last possible moment before I had to pack up to make my train home.
WHILE YOU’RE THERE, READ…
The long-form poem Dart by Alice Oswald. It follows the narrative – the imagined mutterings – of the River Dart as it winds its way from source to sea. Totally beautiful.