Samantha the Siren Guides the Way - a photo on Flickriver

            You may recall the fact that on occasion we’re accompanied by Bossy Barbara on our adventures.  For those tricky to find locations, she often comes to the rescue, feeding us directions from Dave’s phone.  Frequently her instructions are a little eccentric to say the least.  In fact I was in need of therapy for several months after she told us to leave the M5 earlier than I thought she should have done on the long drive to Buxton last year.  A series of right turns in the rush hour were enough to have this driver reaching for the valium by the time we arrived at our rented cottage.  All to save a handful of miles, most of which would be spent shunting through the gears rather than gliding serenely towards the Derbyshire border.  Bossy Barbara might get us to our destination, but not without a deal of unnecessary barreling along narrow lanes between Stafford and Leek first.  Stoke on Trent may not be the most glamorous city in the realm, but at least the route would have been simpler and clearer if we’d left the motorway at junction 15 and driven across it like I said we should have done.  My fault for ignoring my own better judgement I suppose.

So it was with some trepidation that I told Dave that although I was pretty sure we needed to turn right at the Mary Tavy Inn, from there onwards I’d be in need of some assistance from the virtual navigator who was trapped inside his phone.  Bossy Barbara was about to be called into action for the first time on our Dartmoor trip.  What could go wrong?  There was only one route to the lonely car park, so her options to lead us on a wild goose chase were severely limited.  But I was still nervous as her services were called upon.  A small voice began to make announcements from the direction of Dave’s phone.  But what was this?  Where was the self assured home counties accent that we were so used to hearing?  Where was Barbara?  Dave had evidently been fiddling with the navigation settings on Google Maps, and Bossy Barbara had been replaced with a softly spoken accent from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.  Samantha the Siren had booted Barbara out and promised to do a better job than her deposed English cousin.  There was nothing for it.  We could lament Barbara’s passing and pretend we missed her, or we could embrace our new guide and accept her wisdom in all matters navigational.  As long as she didn’t mislead us, as sirens are wont to do.  From the back seat Lee declared that he rather liked the sound of her.  By the time we arrived at the car park on the edge of the open moor - without any strange detours, I might add - we were all a little bit in love with Samantha.  We’d only been away from our wives for just over twenty-four hours.

Now we were here, there was a hill to climb.  And whether or not Samantha had a part in this, we all meandered uphill in different directions and at varying speeds towards the top of Ger Tor.  A brief rest here to point the cameras towards the showers that raced across the land, and to refuel with peanut filled chocolate bars and we were off again, sploshing across the boggy wilderness in our wellies towards the high ground of Hare Tor.  It was a shame we didn’t really need any further assistance from Samantha here.  Her comforting tones might have brought a soothing balm to the challenging conditions, but the spot we planned to get to was looming right over us.  And we might need her again later, so it wouldn’t do to wear her batteries down.

It wasn’t lost on us that if we’d been here a week earlier, we’d have faced clear blue skies and superheated sunshine.  But in the last few days the weather had changed after a long hot summer.  All morning and afternoon Dartmoor had been besieged by an unending sequence of heavy showers.  Many of them had passed to the south, leaving us gawping at the intense clouds of white light pouring onto the land from our vantage point up on the high ground, while in other moments we were caught in the teeth of the squall, gathering under trees as we cradled our cameras to our chests with our backs turned towards the bursting rain.  So far this evening we’d dodged the bullets, but now another fierce volley found us sheltering as best we could behind the granite boulders on the exposed summit of Hare Tor.  It would at least be the final time today.  

And what a reward we were given for our pains as a moment of fleeting orange light moved across the space in front of us, bringing life to the flanks of Brat Tor, Sharp Tor and Great Links Tor in the distance, catching the boulders as it went.  Apart from a couple returning to their vehicle just after we set off from the car park, we hadn’t seen a single soul in this huge empty landscape.  It was a moment to savour.  As the light faded we began the long hike back down to the car.  We might need the satnav to get us back to the main road later.  Long live Samantha.  I made a note to check the language options in the navigation settings on my own phone later.  Just in case I need some directions soon.

Taken in: UK / England / West Devon District (show map)

Taken on: September 1, 2025

Tags:

Dartmoor

West Country

Nikon

Devon

Brat Tor

weather

rain

shower

light

glow

summer

wilderness

United Kingdom

Great Britain

England

national park

tor

wild

rugged

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Sets appears in: • Dartmoor Summer Trip 2025 • Dartmoor more » • Explored « less

Groups appears in: • Photo Infos • Nature photography, flora or fauna - P2 / Award 1 . . . please! more » • in explore • WONDERS OF PHOTOGRAPHY IN GENERAL.MARAVILLAS DE LA FOTOGRAFIA EN « less

Camera: Nikon Z 7_2, f/11.0, 1/160 sec, 50mm, ISO 125 (more info) (hide info)

Camera:	Nikon Z 7_2
Lens:	NIKKOR Z 28-400mm f/4-8 VR
Aperture:	f/11.0
Exposure Time:	0.006 sec (1/160)
Focal Length:	50mm
ISO:	125
Exposure Bias:	-1 EV
Flash:	No Flash
Exposure Program:	Aperture-priority AE
Exposure Mode:	Auto
Metering Mode:	Multi-segment
White Balance:	Auto
Color Space:	Uncalibrated
Software:	Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Classic 14.5.1 (Windows)
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