When the tourist season releases its grip on the towns and villages of the west country we take off in the van, park up somewhere as pretty as possible and enjoy exploring in the less busy months. Dartmouth was our destination of choice this past weekend.

We arrived by ferry when the sun was low in the sky.

And parked up next  to the river.

A domestic admin failure had given us  some free hours in the day which gave us the chance to get to Dartmouth with enough daylight to find a sleepy spot for the night and explore the town on foot. We managed more than 10,000 steps in a couple of hours in quiet streets. I have worked in Dartmouth a lot more than twenty years ago and know that that sort of foot work would be impossible when the town is buzzing with happy visitors.

We made it to Bayards Cove Fort. Vital in the defence of the town since Tudor times.

The only wooden boat on the water when we were there was little Sparky.  We didn’t have the firepower or inclination to blow him out of the water.

There was some fabulous rust in the fort. It would have been uncharacteristic if I had not grabbed a  photo of it. It is certainly not part of the original structure and was probably put up to keep tourists like me from plunging into the river while taking photos.

Our evening meanderings took us on lovely historic streets that meandered from the banks of the river up the hill towards the top of the valley. We enjoyed the architecture and the dogs enjoyed the smells. To add some authenticity to an ancient port we came across some career drinkers in a piss soaked alleyway. They optimistically offered us the sorts of historic pleasures that it was easy to decline.

https://www.dartmouthfishingfestival.com/

The towns pubs buzzed as dusk and then darkness arrived. We were in the town, unintentionally,, during the 62nd Dartmouth Fishing Festival. Saturday was only day 1 with two more days to go, so no celebrating to speak of but tactics and  with fisherfolk, the inevitable tales of the ones that got away. The towns bandstand , near our parked van, had been the hub of the day-one close of play meeting. Having only just arrived  we couldn’t fathom what we were listening to. As we wandered the streets later we had a bit more understanding, but only a bit. The only fish we saw were in an art gallery.

My weekend blogs were a little sombre but blogging/pondering is only ever a snapshot of a moment. So while the sombre thoughts got a little blogspace the fun stuff was happening . It might take me all week to write about that.

What is your favorite hobby or pastime?

Just let me think…