What better place to go locally on the summer solstice and Father’s Day than to the moors in Ivy, our new campervan? We bumped along a track to Craddock Moor, part of Bodmin Moor, with our daughter and grandson. Sheep and lambs sheltering from the sun under a wind-sculpted hawthorn tree observed us and carried on munching grass as we parked halfway down the stony trail.

The rugged remnants of the New Phoenix Mine’s engine house stand proud on the hillside and are one of many intriguing and lingering signs of the area’s industrial history.

With the weather exceedingly humid, we ventured out after a picnic lunch for a walk, shorter than we usually take; eager to carry out an activity introduced to Mr Word Loft and me last summer. Geocaching. An outdoor worldwide treasure hunt using GPS technology and an App to find waterproof containers of differing sizes. Armed with tiny charms to put inside caches, a pen to sign initials and date the log, we roved by pools and along pathways.

Searching here and there for quite a while, we encircled shrubland and a rocky granite outcrop. Suddenly, our daughter alerted us to a crevice. We rushed over, and there it was, the sought-after receptacle, nestled in a lichen-coated niche. I’ve not been too precise about the location so as not to ruin the enjoyment for others.

On this occasion, there wasn’t a little trinket inside, but my grandson was overjoyed to find the cache at long last and was happy to leave his miniature gift – a Dalek. We had a selection of silver metal shapes. Shells, dolphins, cars, trains – the list goes on. But for an eight-year-old, the Doctor Who villain is much more appealing.

Enthusiasm was high. Clutching a phone, we headed to the next hidey-hole. But when we arrived, the mini-stash was stowed somewhere near a wooded patch where cows with calves were grazing.

“Not to worry, they’ll soon wander off,” we told our grandson as we pointed out a group of horses and foals, then spent half an hour or so admiring them and exploring foundations of other old buildings.

However, when we returned to the trees, the cattle still hadn’t shifted, and wary of the lowing hefty animals, we wended our way back to Ivy for a Father’s Day cream tea, promising ourselves a revisit to the moorland at a cooler date.

Until next time,
Sue. X