Plymouth and Dartmoor

We arrived in Plymouth on Wednesday where we took tender boats to shore.

Our tour took us through the Devon countryside to Dartmoor. Yellow gorse, pink heather and ferns colored the sides of the road.

The farms in the hilly Devon region divide along hedges, which, as accidental wildlife refuges, are federally protected and cannot be altered. The grass is brilliantly green. Mom said it really looked like the green in a crayon box.

Once we got to Dartmoor, black faced sheep and wild Dartmoor ponies could be seen grazing everywhere. The ponies and sheep are "owned" by local interests, and are tagged once a year, but they are left to graze and roam and never culled.

We passed Princeton, where Arthur Conan Doyle was inspired to write "The Hounds of the Baskervilles" among the moss covered heaps of extruded rock.

Finally, the Dartmoor Inn served us a cream tea.

As the tea was layed out, but our table was reluctant to dig in, I assumed the role of "mother" and poured tea for the group. The Dartmoor Inn bakes their exceptionally light scones in a outdoor woodstove at the entrance to the property.

Just before we left, some ponies and sheep began grazing on the West end of the property. You can get close enough to touch them, but they kick. Don't ask how I found that out.