A trip to Exmoor, where the wild things are

Since moving to London I have been teased relentlessly by my colleagues for coming from Devon. Cider jokes, extra digits jokes, ‘close’ family jokes – I’ve heard them all. And the teasing intensified when they found out I was spending the bank holiday weekend with my parents in the West Country in a motor home. But the joke’s on them because I had an absolutely cracking time (as demonstrated below with my first pint of the trip!)


We stayed in the beautiful Dulverton on Exmoor and spent our days walking, nature-spotting/enjoying, eating, boozing and sleeping. And not much else. If I was an animal I’d definitely be a cat because all I need is food, sleep and occasional attention.


After a busy few months in the city, it was great to get back home and enjoy the country. London, I love you, but the West Country will always win.


Whilst it might reasonably be said that I am an uncool human, it is fair to say that my family are even worse. My Dad and my brother are keeping lists of the birds they see and making a competition out of who can find the most… Sounds tragic, I know, but it’s actually fun trying to find weird and wonderful creatures. My parents were very excited at spotting this regal Goosander (below) along the River Barle. As far I can tell it’s a duck with a sort of vaguely gingery dragon head but then I’m no Chris Packham.


We all indulged in a bit of cheeky photography over the trip, with my Dad snapping some killer wildlife shots on his new sexy camera.


He got this great shot of a grey wagtail below (confusingly called that even though it’s largely bright yellow). It looks like it’s been photoshopped in!


And this diva of a swallow who was showing off and wanted his picture taken.


And Exmoor isn’t Exmoor without an obligatory trip to Tarr Steps. We had an ice cream whilst I re-applied plasters to my notoriously crap feet. I could have put a picture of that in this blog but it wasn’t pretty…


By the end of our biggest walk our feet were ruined, we were bloody knackered and hungry as hell. So when we returned to the site, Dad cooked a mammoth BBQ. (Quick note: whilst I fully respect and endorse motorhome trips and the like, I do NOT respect and endorse the wearing of crocs in any context.)


Heaven. On. Earth.


Writing about food has made me hungry so I am going to go and get dinner. But I’ll end with this beautiful shot:

Exmoor 4 (1)

Oh Exmoor you sexy beast…


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