Unforgettable

Marion Bradley

It's not always the big important things in life that leave an impression. Sometimes it's an everyday occurrence that would normally go unnoticed by keeps popping in and out of memory even years after it should have been forgotten. If you were asked why this has lodged itself into your mind you couldn't say, because you don't really know the answer yourself. About ten years ago such a memory hooked itself into my subconscious. It was summer and my annual holiday in Exeter where I was visiting my daughter, son-in-law and grandson.

A day on Dartmoor had been planned but Lorraine couldn't go, as she had to work. Andy was on his rest days (he worked four days off and four days on) Rory my grandson was on holiday from school, so there were only three of us making the trip. We set off early hoping to make the most of the fine weather and the plan was to park the car then do a walk that included one or two of the Tors. Andy who had been a marine had mapped out a route for us, which hopefully wouldn't be too adventurous. He is a great son-in-law but I think he may sometimes forget that I wasn't in the marines. To the people who don't know Dartmoor, the name conjures up desolate moors, roamed by a phantom hound waiting to leap snarling and foaming at the mouth, seeking revenge by ripping out the throats of the cursed descendants of Sir Hugo Baskerville or the grim prison rising from the swirling mist. This makes good background for the mystery novels but bellies the true spirit of the moor; Dartmoor is a wonderful place to spend time exploring.

True there is a prison built originally to house the French captives from the Napoleonic wars but it is the garrison town of Princetown, not in the middle of a marshy moor. There are dangers to be aware of such as blanket bogs and sudden changes in the weather when you can be enveloped in mist without warning but if the rules are followed and common sense prevails you will come to no harm. There are vast areas of gorse and heather where the hardy ponies, Cattle and sheep from the farms can roam freely and are seen being rounded up by the herdsmen on horseback. You cans top for cream tea in one of the famous villages, the most famous being Widecome where the fair is still held on the second Tuesday in September where Uncle Tom Cobely, riding Tom Parse's grey mare, makes his annual visit.

The river Dart meanders through lush forest, girgles under the scattered clapper bridges winding its way over the moors till it reaches the sea. A timeless landscape watched over by ancient Tors. It was surrounded by this wonder of nature we spent our day, till driven by the dietry needs of our own natures we headed for Hav Tor the chosen place for our picnic. This was when without realising it at the time; the common place became the memorable. A lone figure could be seen heading towards the rock.

There was nothing about this person that was different from any other who frequented the moor. Dressed in hill walkers uniform of weatherproofs, walking boots and toting a rucksack. The only thing that was slightly unusual was that it was a woman who was on her own.

She drew level with us and said "hello" and continued on her way. That was the only contact we had with her and the first and last time we saw her. So what was it about her that prompted Andy to say on the way home in the evening 'that woman looked happy?' I didn't need to ask who because she had been popping into my mind.

Why when discussing the events of the day with my daughter I mentioned the smiling woman who said hello on the moors and I wasn't surprised when she said "Yes Andy told me about her."

There was nothing about this woman that ordinarily would have made her stand out. She looked average in build, pleasant features aged about sixty. It's true she looked happy, but you don't go through life remembering every happy looking person you happen to cross paths with. So why remember this one? These are questions I can't really answer because I'm not sure I know. I feel there was something that went deeper than happiness in her. A feeling of contentment and a sense of being at peace with herself and the rest of the world or perhaps there was something that she absorbed from the very nature of the moor itself.

Back home in Edinburgh, I regularly go walking in Holyrood Park with my dog, although not as extensive as Dartmoor national park, it has the same aura or timeless ness and is guarded by the Leonine Arthur Seat instead of Granite Tors.

During my walks I sometimes cast my thoughts back over the years and wonder, does she still walk the moors exchanging smiles and a 'hello' with strangers, not realising how she made their days that little bit richer by imparting something of herself that makes her unforgettable.