Morning fog and wet feet – a weekend on Dartmoor

Closeup of flowers on top of a foggy moor

When Tom said that he’d like to run on the moors for his birthday I was happy to agree, whilst being certain it wasn’t my kind of choice for a weekend away. I imagined dragging my tired limbs and wet feet through boggy land, arguing with grumpy cattle and secretly dreaming of a spa weekend.

Rusty hopping across a collapsed bridge

Tom standing at a moorland gate

Whilst we may have had a run-in with a feral cow and certainly didn’t keep our feet dry, it was still seriously good times. It’s ridiculous how much I love getting tired, muddy and lost. I just sometimes need a kick up the ass (and some magic jelly beans) to remember that fact.

Morning fog in Dartmoor

Tom running in the fog

The wild runs up on the moor were tempered with some luxury accommodation (thank you Helene) and some delicious pub grub (with thanks to The Elephant’s Nest). We studied maps and had plenty of cake and champagne. Not that far removed from a spa weekend after all.

Tom at the pub