Placing a marker in time by Belinda Dixon
On Monday, a bunch of us hiked into the heart of Dartmoor.
It was a 5-mile trek, in defiance of the (very) wet weather to meet with fellow (as yet unknown) adventurers.
The aim? To wild swim a Dartmoor lake by the light of the full moon. To wild camp. And then to watch the solstice sun rise.
To cut (many) long stories short, we arrived from different directions. There was a lot of trudging and crossing rivers and getting wet boots. There were doubts and uncertainties and displays of sheer guts to arrive.
But we gathered, beside Red Lake (turned pink by the sunset); chatted, shared food and made new friends.
We swam in that chilly, velvety lake that cloudy night. Some wild camped, some bivvied (despite the whopping slugs). Then we climbed the Red Lake mound to watch the dawn.
So why did we do this? It was a Monday night, after a rainy 48 hours. And England were playing in the footy.
We did it because we could. Perhaps to place a marker in time.