All My Stunning Photos
So, okay. So, the thing about England seems to be, there aren’t as many places to pull over to the side of the road and take pictures of all the gorgeous things?
When I was in Scotland last year, there were “Parking” spots every few miles, usually right at a nice scenic spot. “Parking” is in quotes because it was often nothing more than a 15-foot-long spot where they put a 4-foot-deep shoulder on the road (where normally there was no shoulder at all). And yet there would be signs that said “P 1/4 mile” (with a square around the P which is apparently how every place symbolizes parking lots?) to let you know this “Parking” spot was coming up soon. Adorable.
I mention this because I drove through some GORGEOUS places today, and yet had only ONE place to pull over and snap any pics. I mean, there were plenty of times I could’ve stopped IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD and hoped that no cars would arrive behind me. And I was often alone on the road. But it is a universal truth that whenever you are on a roadtrip and absolutely do not want another car to appear on the road, one shall appear. Taking a video of the peaceful sounds of a babbling brook? zzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZOOOOOMMmmmmmmmm. Lining up a shot of the winding highway coming down out of the mountains? Five cars appear and take three minutes to wind their way down.
ANYWHO. All of that is to say: the South Devon Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (no, really, that’s what the area is called, England is adorable) was beautiful and exactly the kind of winding, tree-canopied roads I love driving through. And it was raining and there was low cloud cover, which honestly just enhances the greenery.
Please Respect Our Privacy At This Time
Also messing with my ability to photograph a good hour of the drive this morning? Frickin hedgerows lining the roads for miles and miles. I bet there were some pretty hills and vales, but I wouldn’t know, there were seven-foot-high bushes lining the road and I couldn’t see past them. WTF. Your sheep fields don’t need this much privacy.
I’d like to point out that the picture above is also representative of these narrow one-lane roads England loves. And see about halfway up the photo, that super slight bend of the road to the left? That’s where you “pull over” to let other cars coming the other direction pass you. It’s a tight fit at the best of times.
Which brings me to my most delightful interaction of the day: I came upon one of those tiny two-door mini cars they love in Europe trying to pass a Range Rover. The mini car was headed my way, and the Range Rover was headed the opposite oncoming direction. I quickly judged that where that teeny tiny car was struggling to make it past the Rover, I was in my own (rented) Range Rover and that was not gonna work. So I throw it in reverse and back up 30 feet to my own pull out spot and flash my lights to tell the other guy to come pass me.
As he drives towards me, he slows and rolls down his window. He is an older gentleman with grey hair, probably mid-to-late 60s. And he’s clearly a dude who should own a Range Rover. He’s got the quarter-zip pullover with the popped collar and a button-up shirt underneath and just the general air of old-rich-white-dude about him.
I roll down my window and he says to me “Ah, the trouble with owning a Range Rover, eh?” Which, honestly, if the next thing he’d done was ask for the Grey Poupon I wouldn’t have batted an eye. I gave a fake laugh because… sure? I guess? Do we rich-white-guy high-five now? Gross. But also hilarious.
I Did Not Bring The Right Shoes
The moors of Dartmoor National Park are awesome. Just miles of rolling hills and rocky outcroppings of solid slabs of granite. And with the low cloud cover, there were literally spots where the hills just rolled right into the clouds and faded to grey. SO COOL.
Also, there were horses and cows just… roaming the hills. Crossing the roads. Not at all afraid of cars. Cool cool cool.
But, funny story. Moors are mainly low-lying shrubs and grasslands. But Dartmoor is also a lot of bogs. And it was drizzling, so even the grasslands were muddy. All of which is to say: I did not walk up the hill past the granite outcropping to see the abandoned medieval village because there was no walking path? You’re apparently just supposed to hike over the moors? And… yeah. Not in these shoes. Had I known, I’d have packed boots. Oh well, it was still all very pretty!
On the way out of the national park, it was more winding roads and narrow ancient stone bridges. All delightful and gorgeous. Very few places to stop and snap a photo.
What The Hell Makes Rock Do That?
After winding out of Dartmoor, I made my way up towards the Devonshire west coast. At one point I encountered a bridge that was only 6’6″ wide and it looked too narrow for the Range Rover and I didn’t really feel like scraping the sides of the car to find out if my perception of its width was accurate? Fun.
At Stoke, you can drive out to the coast and the Hartland Quay Hotel which is perched on the edge of some of the weirdest and coolest rock formations I’ve ever seen? The coast line here is just black rock in stacked slabs that jut out of the ground nearly vertically. What weird geological process does that? I need to look it up. SO COOL.
