Buckland Abbey | The History Jar The History Jar I saw five ships… This post contains not three ships but five. It’s also rather brief as this event isn’t exactly a niche happening for keen historians its linked to one of England’s most identifiable historic figures! Today, 13th December, in 1577 Sir Francis Drake set off from Plymouth with fewer than two hundred men on his greatest voyage. The Pelican was Drake’s vessel. He was accompanied by the Elizabeth, the Marigold, the Swan and the Benedict. Just to confuse matters the Benedict was also known as the Christopher. By January the vessels made landfall in what we now know as Argentina and the Pelican was renamed the Golden Hind as it sailed through the Magellan Straits. If you want to know more about drake and his various voyages then I suggest the Naval Museum in Greenwich link here which will open a new window and a thorough overview as to whether Drake was a hero (oh yes he was!) or a piratical villain -(oh no he wasn’t! Er, actually, he might have been if you were Spanish – he was a licensed privateer after all).

However, one of the first places I remember visiting as a child was Buckland Abbey in Devon, and my father served for a time in the Royal Navy so I grew up on a diet of seafaring heroics and the story of Drake’s drum, a replica of which can still be seen at Buckland Abbey – although the original does still exist (and I have seen it). Drake is supposed to have taken the snare drum with him on his momentous journey of 1577-1580. The story goes that shortly before his death off Panama he ordered the drum to be returned home to Buckland and if England was ever in peril and the drum beaten then Drake would return to defend his country once more. Of course the sound of ghostly drum rolls have been heard at various times in England’s history including the outbreak of World War One and on the surrender of the Imperial German Navy in 1918. It was also heard echoing during the dark days of the Dunkirk evacuation and during the Plymouth Blitz. Folklore rather than history but the ‘story’ in history is one of the things that has always made history so fascinating for me.

And, there’s that rather stirring poem by Newbolt – looking back I’m impressed that my father knew it so well having been required to learn it at school and even more impressed that it was deemed suitable for a five-year-old who then demanded to hear it on more than one occasion- so consequentially it seems appropriate that this post: small part fact, large part folk lore and small part narrative poem finish with Newbolt’s words: Drake he’s in his hammock an’ a thousand miles away, (Capten, art tha sleepin’ there below?) Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay, An’ dreamin’ arl the time O’ Plymouth Hoe. Yarnder lumes the Island, yarnder lie the ships, Wi’ sailor lads a-dancing’ heel-an’-toe, An’ the shore-lights flashin’, an’ the night-tide dashin’, He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago.

Drake he was a Devon man, an’ ruled the Devon seas, (Capten, art tha’ sleepin’ there below?) Roving’ tho’ his death fell, he went wi’ heart at ease, A’ dreamin’ arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe. “Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore, Strike et when your powder’s runnin’ low; If the Dons sight Devon, I’ll quit the port o’ Heaven, An’ drum them up the Channel as we drumm’d them long ago.” Drake he’s in his hammock till the great Armadas come, (Capten, art tha sleepin’ there below?) Slung atween the round shot, listenin’ for the drum, An’ dreamin arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe. Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound, Call him when ye sail to meet the foe; Where the old trade’s plyin’ an’ the old flag flyin’ They shall find him ware an’ wakin’, as they found him long ago!

Share this: buckland abbey garden and estate | nanquick Dartmouth Dartmouth On SATURDAY, JUNE 27TH, our destination was Greenway, a manor house set within an exquisite, 36-acre tract of woodlands and gardens that are perched high above a turn in the River Dart. Greenway, on the River Dart. Image courtesy of The National Trust Since 2000, Greenway has been owned by The National Trust. Address: Greenway Road, Galmpton near Brixham, Devon, TQ5 0ES. Greenway’s Website: In 1530 the first of a succession of grand houses — all of them called “Greenway” — to be built upon the site was erected by the Gilberts, a renowned Devon seafaring family. In 1588, the beginnings of the gardens which surround Greenway were created, thanks to some “houseguests” of the Gilbert family, whose good friend, Sir Francis Drake had captured 160 Spanish prisoners of war and their ship.

[Note: later in this Diary, we’ll visit Buckland Abbey, Sir Francis Drake’s home.] Drake anchored the vessel nearby, and as ransom negotiations for the ship proceeded, Sir Francis forced his prisoners to begin clearing and leveling the grounds around Greenway Court, the Gilbert’s Tudor mansion. So, although many far more illustrious folks would eventually have a hand in the creation of Greenway’s Gardens (among them Humphry Repton )… Humphry Repton (born 1752, Died 1818) was an influential English landscape designer who is regarded as the successor to Capability Brown. …it’s good to keep in mind those 160 pairs of Spanish hands that began the task of transforming a steep and heavily wooded hillside into the magical landscape which today shelters a nationally-significant collection of 2700 species of trees and plants. Despite Greenway’s impressive provenance (what with Francis Drake dropping by, and centuries of other illustrious Devon-ians serving as lords of the manor), the reason that Greenway has become one of The National Trust’s most visited properties can be explained in two words: AGATHA CHRISTIE.

Per Wikipedia: “The Guinness Book of World Records lists Christie as the best-selling novelist of all time. Her novels have sold roughly 2 BILLION copies.” It was at Greenway that the Dame of Mysteries and her second husband, the archaeologist Sir Max Mallowan, made their country home, from 1938 until 1959. The interior of the house as we see it today is chock-full of their possessions. Agatha had already inherited mind-boggling collections of curios and furniture from her well-to-do parents, and the Mallowans themselves were well-traveled and world-class shoppers….as were also Rosalind (Agatha’s daughter) and her husband Anthony Hicks (who purchased Greenway in 1959, and who continued to fill its rooms with new treasures). The Christie-Mallowan-Hicks were all packrats of the highest and most entertaining order (as we shall soon see). The delights of Greenway are further enhanced by an Aquatic Approach. From early March until the end of October, the Greenway Ferry departs from Dartmouth Town Pontoon every hour. Greenway Ferry website: Bird’s eye view of the Dart estuary. Image courtesy of The National Trust.

And so now, before our Greenway explorations begin, some glimpses of the 30-minute-long voyage from Dartmouth Harbor, northward, along the River Dart. Greenway’s Ferry approaches the Dartmouth Town Pontoon As our voyage upriver begins, we admire the Village of Dartmouth From the Ferry, we can see our holiday rental home, on “Above Town” Dartmouth is surrounded by steep hillsides, which are grazing-lands for thousands of sheep. Upriver, on the Dart Sailboats racing The tall arches of a bridge built for the still-operating Dartmouth Steam Railway line…which runs along the eastern banks of the River Dart, from Kingswear to Paignton. Map of the Dartmouth Steam Railway line A blood-pressue-lowering view, as we draw nearer to Greenway. Greenway’s Boat House Our first glimpse of Greenway Agatha Christie wrote: “One day we saw that a house was up for sale that I had known when I was young…So we went over to Greenway, and very beautiful the house and grounds were.

A white Georgian house of about 1780 or 90, with woods sweeping down to the Dart below, and a lot of fine shrubs and trees — the ideal house, a dream house.” Per The National Trust’s guidebook to Greenway: “Agatha Christie could not resist buying Greenway, a place she had known about from childhood, having been born and brought up in nearby Torquay. She and her husband Max Mallowan soon became very attached to the place. It became their holiday home and they spent periods here in the spring, late summer, and often at Christmas, with family and friends.” “Agatha Christie took the advice of a young architect, Guilford Bell, to demolish the wing built in 1892. Bell also advised on the interior alterations, installing new bathrooms and introducing the cream interiors that exist today, sweeping away the gloomy and unfashionable colour schemes of the previous owners.

The Mallowans were keen but not expert gardeners, and quickly became interested in the existing planting schemes.” “Work in the garden was interrupted by the outbreak of World War II, when the house was requisitioned and initially occupied by child evacuees, and then from 1944 to 1945 by the 10th Flotilla of the U.S. Coastguard as part of the preparations for D-Day.” “After derequisition both the house and garden needed attention. In 1947 a nursery garden was created and run as a commercial enterprise until the end of the 20th century.” “Greenway is also featured in at least two of Agatha Christie’s novels: as Nasse House in DEAD MAN’S FOLLY, and as Alderbury in FIVE LITTLE PIGS.” We disembarked from the ferry, and found ourselves at Greenway’s Quay For visitors coming to Greenway from the hamlet of Dittisham, which is just across the River, a small conveyance is available. To summon a ride, one rings a dockside bell, and Viola! This little motorboat appears.

The Quay’s thatched-roof cottage Turn right, through the gate, to find the steep path uphill. But a shuttle IS available, for those not vigorous enough to make the climb. Nothing about this woodland path suggests that an elegant estate awaits us. We get a glimpse of the River Dart The Shuttle Bus: Touristy but Adorable The main House, at Greenway Our view from the front of the House The River Dart, seen from the front lawn Let’s see how Max and Agatha lived, shall we? Agatha Christie and her 2nd husband, Max Mallowan, in 1946. Image courtesy of The National Trust. Floor Plans of the House at Greenway. Image courtesy of The National Trust. A pair of Foo Dogs stand guard on the front steps. Constant streams of visitors enter the Front Hall. The brass-studded chest immediately to the right of the front door was featured in two of Christie’s books: THE MYSTERY OF THE BAGHDAD CHEST, and THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHRISTMAS PUDDING. A heavily-laden Cupboard in the Front Hall A closer look at the china, in the Front Hall’s cupboard Display cabinet in the Front Hall.

Before the property was opened to visitors in 2009, every item in the House was catalogued by The National Trust. Agatha’s daughter, Roslalind Hicks, had a particular fondness for pocket watches, snuff boxes, and portrait miniatures. More collections in the Front Hall. (I would HATE to have to be the one responsible for feather-dusting the House Collections…..) The Morning Room. The two niches flanking the fireplace are filled with the Hickeses’ collection of botanical porcelain. The rest of the room was decorated with ornaments that Agatha inherited from her grandmother, and from her parents. Detail of Shell Decoration, and Fireplace Mantle, in the Morning Room. Porcelain decoration, in the Morning Room. Porcelain figures often figure in Christie’s mysteries. Detail of Morning Room mantle. The comfy Drawing Room Chest, in the Drawing Room. Dominoes, just waiting to cascade across the Drawing Room’s carpet. Family photos on display in the Drawing Room The Winter Dining Room. The plasterwork over mantle depicts the Old Testament story of Daniel’s three friends being thrown into the fiery furnace for refusing to worship a golden idol (quite a domestic fireplace decoration eh?).

This plaster relief is thought to have been part of the site’s original Tudor mansion. How it came to be saved, and then reinstalled in the current House is a mystery. Transom window above the door between the Winter Dining Room & the Service Corridor. The bells on the wall were used to summon the House’s servants. The Kitchen’s China Display The Kitchen’s original range has been replaced by a very spiffy oil-fired Aga. Detail of a Hicks and Meigh stoneware dinner service The commodious Inner Hall is thought to have originally been a billiard room. When the Mallowans purchased Greenway, their architect Guilford Bell transformed this space into yet another gallery for the display of their Treasures. Every flat surface of the Inner Hall is overflowing with the family’s collections. David and Anne, in the Dining Room. The Dining Room, which measures 31 feet long by 19 feet wide, is by far the least cluttered and most tranquil space in the entire House. A beautiful place setting, in the Dining Room Place setting details Agatha Christie’s favorite menu included hot lobster, followed by blackberry ice cream. Here’s her Lobster-Serving Dish.

An extremely disturbing doorstop, in the Dining Room: just a little reminder that the smiling, gray-haired Lady of the House had a mind that often wandered into Exotic Realms. The Library The Library Per The National Trust’s guidebook: “The Library’s extraordinary frieze was painted by Lt. Marshall Lee in 1943, when the house was occupied by Flotilla 10 of the U.S. Coastguard. It depicts all of the significant events of their war, starting at Lt. Lee’s base in Key West, FL, and ending with an image of Greenway perched high above the river with an Infantry Landing Craft in the river below.” Lt. Lee and his colleagues clearly appreciated the Ladies of England! More of the Library’s frieze The Artist didn’t gloss over the violence of war. Galveston, Texas, comes to Devon. Wonderful!! The Main Staircase, leading to the Bedrooms. The Master Bedroom looks nearly the same as it did during Agatha’s Christie’s time. From her bedroom’s windows, Agatha had this splendid view out over the River Dart.

A corner of Agatha’s Bedroom Agatha bought this mother-of-pearl inlaid chest of drawers in Damascus, in 1929. Detail of the treasures atop Agatha’s Damascus chest. Agatha’s bedside table (with Anne and her very nice Prada sunhat, reflected in the mirror). Christie’s mahogany-seated toilet. I’m not sure that Agatha would be delighted to know that mobs of tourists now gawk at her privy… Originally a bedroom, the Sitting Room later became Max Mallowan’s writing room. When Agatha was at Greenway, there’s no evidence to suggest that she plied her author’s trade. Of course, Agatha did weave elements of their country home into her mysteries, but her time in Devon was not spent in toil at her typewriter. And still more trinkets, in the Sitting Room. We headed back down the Main Stairway, where we admired its groined ceiling, and arched clerestory window. As we exited through the Back Hall, we found this Mosaic Name Plate, formed from broken crockery. For a therapeutic blast of fresh air, we’ll proceed outside, into the sunshine of Greenway’s south-facing Gardens!

Map of Greenway’s Grounds Greenway’s 36 acres, on a promontory above the River Dart, feel utterly at one with the greater, Devonian landscape. As mentioned, the retaining walls and paths by which Greenway’s steep slopes were made hospitable for future gardens were built in 1588 by Spanish prisoners. Over the following 400 years the nine families who then each owned Greenway continued to tame the land and develop the gardens. But the layouts of the gardens which we visit today are still basically those which were refashioned in Humphry Repton’s relaxed and picturesque style, from 1791 until 1832. Subsequent owners embellished the garden with the plantings of shrubs and trees that still flourish, but a few ancient specimens also survive, particularly a Cork Oak (in the Camellia Garden), which is estimated to be 300—350 years old. This is a garden that’s literally rooted in history; a place where past and present resonate, and meld seamlessly. The Croquet Lawn is directly to the west of the House. This area is dominated by a Magnolia grandiflora.

Reinvigorated after enjoying lunch at Greenway’s Barn Cafe, we entered the South Walled Garden & Vinery, and began our garden explorations. And WHAT, pray tell, is a BOTHY? It’s a Scottish Highlands term for a VERY basic gardener’s cottage. By the time of the Mallowans, this hut was used to store coal and firewood. The South Walled Garden’s Glass House. This extensive Glass House was built against the northern wall of the South Walled Garden by Richard Harvey, a wealthy copper magnate. Harvey owned Greenway from 1852 until 1882, and during those years he restored the lodge and stables (where the Barn Cafe and Gift Shop currently are), built glass houses within the pre-existing walled gardens, and thinned the outlying forests, where his gardener, J. Coudray, then introduced specimens of exotics, including acacias, clianthus, sophora, and myrtles. A closer view of the South Walled Garden’s Glass House Inside the South Walled Garden’s Glass House The view from outside the Glass House, across the lawn of the South Walled Garden, toward the white chimneys of the main House.

This Garden — a full acre — was originally a kitchen garden. A profusion of Borage and Artichokes, alongside the Glass House The Herb Border, in the South Walled Garden. Against the high wall behind the herbs climbs an ancient Wisteria sinensis. The North Walled Garden continues today, as a working nursery where plants are propagated for Greenway’s gardens. This Glass House was built by Susannah Harvey in the 1870s, and in this space she grew Peaches and Nectarines. Inside the Peach House We leave the Walled Gardens and head uphill, toward the Fernery, with its Fountain & Pet Cemetery. Ferns — of course — in the Fernery. Our first view of the Fernery’s Fountain. Property records indicate that this area of the estate already existed in 1791, when Edward Elton ( a merchant, adventurer, and MP ) purchased Greenway. Elton immediately commissioned a re-design of most of the grounds, with guidance by Humphry Repton. The Fernery is centered upon a Fountain, and enclosed by walls of water-worn limestone and quartz.

Steps in the Fernery lead to hidden garden areas Another view of the Fernery A shady corner of the Fernery. Here lie the graves of Greenway’s much-loved dogs. Fernery Lushness Leaving the Fernery, we found a towering Monkey-Puzzle Tree (aka a Chilean Pine, which can grow to be 130 feet tall). From the Top Garden’s path, we had this fine view toward the hills, on the western side of the River Dart. And YES, due to Southern Devon’s mild climate, palm trees DO flourish. (Note: you’ll see MANY more tropical plants, when I publish Part Two of my Southern Devon journals.) We then headed downhill, through the Plantation, a heavily-wooded area of the estate. Our next stop: the Boat House, which is also known as “Ralegh’s Boat House.” Sir Walter Ralegh was half-brother to Sir John Gilbert (who belonged to the family who first settled at Greenway). The current Boat House dates from late Georgian or early Victorian times. Putting her vacation home to good use, in DEAD MAN’S FOLLY Agatha Christie used the Boat House as the setting for the strangulation of her fictional character Marlene Tucker.

In Real Life, the Boat House is a calm (and not at all murder-inducing) place. The National Trust has recently begun a campaign to raise funds for the restoration of the Boat House, but I rather like it in its current, disheveled condition. A serene vista, from the Boat House’s Porch A passing Riverboat And another history lesson, posted at the Boat House. Leaving the Boat House, we proceeded to the Battery, which I confess became my favorite spot at Greenway. The Battery dates from the 18th century and is thought to have been built as a Napoleonic defense in the 1790s. (I think that EVERY riverside garden should have a Battery….) I looked southwards, over the emerald-and-blue waters of the River Dart. On SUNDAY, JUNE 28TH, Anne and David and I agreed that a day of wandering through Dartmouth’s streets and ambling along the town’s waterfront and riding the River’s ferry boats would be most relaxing . And so, without agenda, we went forth, into a misty and sometimes rainy morning.

What follows is a scrapbook of Dartmouth; one which will, I hope, give you a vivid sense of the Place. Remember: Leave your Hand-Cart at home. David leads the Way. Although we’d cooked ourselves entirely healthful breakfasts, once our feet had hit the slippery pavements, our brains and stomachs immediately demanded caffeine, sugar and butterfat … which necessitated a visit to Saveurs, Dartmouth’s best patisserie. Saveurs. 3 Victoria Road, Dartmouth. TQ6 9RT The most elegant logo….ever. At Kingswear Station Done with our train spotting, we headed back across the River, via a different Ferry; this one leaving from The Royal Dart, and for foot passengers only. The Royal Dart, in Kingswear The Royal Dart dates to the 1700s, when it was known as the Plume of Feathers Public House. When the railway came to Kingswear in the mid 19th century, Feathers were re-fluffed, and transformed into the Station Hotel.

In the 1860s, another name was bestowed, the Yacht Hotel, and after Queen Victoria attended a Regatta in the 1870s, the Hotel became the Royal Dart. Now a museum containing Naval artifacts (due to the building being used during World War II as a command post), the Royal Dart is much in need of restoration. Returned to Dartmouth, we continued along the waterfront, toward the Town Jetty. Everywhere you look in Dartmouth, images of wild-looking Green Men are carved onto the buildings. Another Green Man Dartmouth’s profusion of Little Green Men gave me pause. ‘Twas time for me to understand just WHAT these pagan images signified. Indirectly but ultimately, the best explanation of those Little Green Men came to me via David Guy, who is absolutely the best-read person I’ve ever known. During our Dartmouth stay, David, considering my predilection for England mystery writers, suggested that I try a series of books written by Christopher Fowler.Fowler’s wonderful Peculiar Crimes Unit mysteries, featuring his superannuated detectives, Bryant and May, have now completely hooked me.

Christopher Fowler does not just plot stories of diabolical intricacy and subversive humor ; into each of his PCU sagas, Fowler also weaves oodles of deep background, about English history, culture, and geography. A while back, as I was greedily plowing through BRYANT AND MAY ON THE LOOSE, the seventh book in the ongoing PCU Series, I was delighted to read this passage, as spoken by Arthur Bryant, the more eccentric of the two detectives: ” ‘ Well, there’s a sinister side to all of this.’ Bryant’s blue eyes glittered, as he found another lithograph. ‘George-a-Green, or Herne the Horned One, is also Jack in the Green or the Green Man, the spirit of vegetation. The Green Man is a story that predates Christ. Uniquely, it has its roots in both pagan and Christian history. The legend tells how the dead Adam had the seeds of the tree of knowledge planted in his mouth. From this mix of fertility and soil grew a sinister god, the Oak King, the Holly King, the Green Man — the symbol of death in life. The Green Man is found in a great many English churches.

He appears both in church carvings and at May Day celebrations, as a sort of primeval trickster, a symbol of spiritual rebirth, but also as a vengeful rapist and bloodsucker. The Green Man is a forest creature with the power to wipe out cities and return them to nature. He destroys men by unleashing natural forces upon them, and reappears when the earth is threatened. He can be benign and healing, but there’s a wildness about him, a dangerous cruelty — and a terrible madness. ‘ ” All of this essential (for me, at least) Green Man Lore now acquired … from just one more of the hundreds of colorful and cultural sidebars (which are nevertheless relevant to the Plot) that Christopher Fowler somehow incorporates into a paperback detective story! Pure serendipity. For lovers of well-wrought mysteries (and — with apologies to Agatha Christie — because I’ve got to say that Christopher Fowler is a FAR better writer than the beloved Mrs. Mallowan), there’s endless fun to be had by solving crimes, alongside Christopher Fowler’s Bryant and May.

Bryant and May books can be found at Forgive me for yet another of my digressions….but it’s this unexpected gathering together of cultural bits and pieces that makes the Traveling Life so intoxicating. Now, back to our Dartmouth-town walk: Green Men gathering Detail of central decoration, framed by more Green Men The Boat Float: a man-made harbor, where small boats rise and fall with the tides. Map of the Boat Float area of Dartmouth The Boat Float: with the Town Jetty, and the River Dart beyond Low Tide at the Boat Float High Tide at the Boat Float The Royal Castle Hotel…just across the street from the Boat Float Sir Francis Drake dined at this location… Yet another heavily-decorated building facade Just around the corner from the Royal Castle Hotel is the Butterwalk, which consists of 4 timber framed houses that date from 1628 to 1640. Detail of upper floor carving, at the Butterwalk Much-contented with our local perambulations, we retired for a few hours to our Cottage on Above Town, where I napped and then caught up with my postcard-writing.

Later that afternoon, when rain clouds had finally dispersed, Anne drove us southwards over five miles of hair-raisingly serpentine and narrow roads, to Slapton Sands. Map of Slapton Sands (also known as Slapton Beach). Image courtesy of Robert Hesketh’s DARTMOUTH: A SHORTISH GUIDE. The location of Slapton Sands in Devon is marked by the yellow arrow. The tranquil expanse of the shingle beach of Slapton Sands, and the adjacent lake, bird sanctuary, and emerald hills of the National Nature Reserve called Slapton Ley give no hint of the horrors that once took place here. Map of Slapton Ley. Slapton Ley has the largest natural lake in south-west England. Although it is separated from the sea by a very narrow bar of shingle, the lake is entirely freshwater. Website: Aerial View of Slapton Ley. Image courtesy of South West Coastal Group. As I’ve mentioned, during World War II thousands of American servicemen were stationed in and around Dartmouth. In ultra-secret preparation for the planned, D-Day invasion of Normandy, the British Government, in coordination with America’s General Dwight D.

Eisenhower (who was also the Supreme Allied Commander), requisitioned all of the land and seashore in the vicinity of Slapton and Torcross. The beach at Slapton Sands, with its similarities to France’s Utah Beach ( a gravel beach, and a nearby lake, separated by a narrow strip of land)… Map of Utah Beach, in Normandy, France …was chosen for military training exercises. With very little prior notice, and without being given any reason, the English inhabitants of eight entire villages, as well as those who lived on all of the surrounding farms, were ordered by the Military to evacuate the area. The populace (numbering approximately 3000 humans, along with countless farm animals) did so with speed and silence … and with an acceptance and grace which today would be unimaginable. At Slapton Sands: America’s memorial to the English people of the South Hams. In late December of 1943, 30,000 Allied servicemen and scores of ships began using Slapton Sands for their landing exercises, which had been named “Exercise Tiger “ (also known as “Operation Tiger.”).

This enormous endeavor had somehow to be accomplished without attracting the notice of spies, or of the German E-boats that prowled incessantly alongside England’s shorelines. [Note: the Germans called these boats Schnellboot, meaning “fast boat.” E-boats were heavily armed, and sleek: able to sustain a speed of 50 mph.] A German Schnellboot— E Boat Landing exercises continued apace until April 28, 1944, when, in an instance of everything-possible-going-wrong, a forward-rolling disaster of epic proportions began. As a practice assault upon the Beach commenced that morning, a series of missed communications sent American soldiers who’d already made their beach landing directly into the zone where shells launched from the British heavy cruiser HMS HAWKINS were exploding. General Eisenhower had correctly asked that his beach-storming troops become acclimatized to the sounds and smells of live ammunition. The point was for the live ammunition to whiz over the heads of the troops, as they waded ashore. Landside officers were given the job of coordinating timing: the troops were not meant to have reached the shore until all shells had detonated.

A white tape was also to have marked the line on the beach beyond which the Americans were not to proceed, until the beach-masters had declared the area safe. Unsynchronized firing of the shells, along with a delay in the start-times for the American landing ships, sent 197 American soldiers to their deaths: directly into the line of friendly fire. But the horrors of April 28th had only just begun. A swarm of nine German E-boats that were lurking in Lyme Bay happened upon the under-protected convoy of American troop ships that were part of a follow-up landing exercise. Earlier that night, British ships had spotted the E-boats, but, in another spectacular failure of communication, had not alerted the American convoy about the imminent threat. As American ships approached the Beach, the E-boats attacked. Within minutes, four American ships were destroyed or severely damaged: 749 American Army and Navy men were either killed outright, or drowned in the frigid waters.

But a single miracle can be said to have occurred on that day.Blessedly, the Germans didn’t draw the conclusion that this massing of British and American forces at Slapton Sands had a greater meaning: that this military exercise on the shores of Southern Devon could be in any way a precursor to an Allied invasion of German-occupied France. And so, with 946 American dead (and countless more wounded), secrecy about the day’s calamity became the overriding and ghastly necessity. To acknowledge what had occurred would inevitably alert the Germans that the Allies planned soon to mount a sea-attack upon France. The dead were hastily buried en masse; dug down there to lie, unnamed and hidden, beneath the green hills that overlook the Lake. The day’s casualties went unannounced; not until August of 1944, and after the successful assault of D-Day, were the dead named, and, even then, those who had perished at Slapton Sands were reported to have died during D-Day operations. The lake at Slapton Ley is separated from the shingle beach by a spit of land.

The hills that rise behind the lake are the unmarked and final resting places of many of the 946 Americans who died during Exercise Tiger, on April 28, 1944. After the conclusion of the War, the catastrophe at Slapton Sands was not so much covered up as it was forgotten. Historians concentrated upon the larger and, in the American and English views, the more positive aspects of World War II. Official histories did of course mention Slapton Sands, but, without any gravestones to mark the final resting places of those 946 Americans — and in the absence of the tales of those who had survived the dual disasters on April 28, 1944 (the survivors were sworn to secrecy) — the non-military-history-reading Public therefore had no reason to suspect that the hideousness of war had ever touched the shingle beach, there in beautiful, bucolic Devon. Not until the 1970s, when Devon resident Ken Small discovered traces of destroyed ordnance while beachcombing at Slapton Sands, was any effort then made by either England or America to memorialize the 946 servicemen who had died there and been forgotten.

Historian Ken Small wrote the first complete story of the disaster at Slapton Sands Operation Tiger memorial plaque at Slapton Sands A Sherman Tank, lost at sea on April 28, 1944, and now dragged ashore. On display at Torcross. Sherman Tank plaque Detail of the Sherman Tank, which is in remarkably good condition, despite having been for decades under seawater. The locals make sure that poppies of remembrance always adorn the Sherman Tank at Torcross I’m in Torcross, looking northwards up along the long curve of Slapton Sands. “Sands” is misleading: the beach consists of shingle (small stones). American Troops making practice landings on Slapton Sands, during rehearsals for the invasion of Normandy. Photo courtesy of Wikipedia. My view of Slapton Sands, on June 28, 2015. As I took photos, and Anne did her research, David took this picture. Photo courtesy of David Guy. It’s peaceful now, at Slapton Sands. Anne identified these scrubby purple flowers that blanket the dunes at Slapton Sands as Echium vulgare (also known as Vipers Bugloss !!

) Photo courtesy of David Guy. When I first beheld the Sherman Tank at Torcross, and began to learn about what had happened there at Slapton Sands on April 28th in 1944, I wanted to weep. Somehow, it seemed incomprehensible that in this sublimely beautiful place, human beings had once again imposed such ugliness upon themselves, and upon the land. Mother Earth deserves better, and we, her eternally ungrateful and terminally heedless children, should have, long-since, learned to be wiser, and kinder, and less war-like. Sometimes I despair…. But, thanks to the peculiarities of English traffic signage, my grim mood soon lifted. Heading back to Dartmouth, we passed a small construction zone in the village of Strete. Road work in Strete I laughed and remembered how, three years ago in neighboring Dorset, I’d been appalled by my first encounter with such Alarming Red Signs. I’d shrieked, and asked Anne and David if entire districts in England might be removing cats’ eyes. They’d reassured me that Cat’s Eyes are reflective, raised pavement road markers which mark the lanes of the road.

When road resurfacing needs to be done, the flexible rubber domes of Cat’s Eyes are removed, and afterwards replaced into the new Tarmac. What a relief it was to learn that the sadism against animals which those signs had initially made me visualize was in fact only a routine sort of road maintenance. The anthropomorphically-named Cat’s Eye. Image courtesy of Wikipedia I hopped out of the car and took this picture, just to prove that the removal of man-made Cat’s Eyes is a routine event, in the United Kingdom! On MONDAY, JUNE 29th, Anne and David and I drove westward, toward Plymouth. Our day was to be a long wallow in three of Southern Devon’s most exquisite landscapes. Our first stop: the wonderful, Fortescue-family gardens at The Garden House, in Buckland Monachorum, Yelverton, near Tavistock, Devon. PL20 7LQ. Open Daily, from May 1st through August 1st. Website: The Garden House’s 10 acres of gardens continue to evolve. For our Monday’s adventures, Janet Hardwick and Barry West had traveled down from the Midlands to join me and the Guys.

Over the years, Anne’s mother Janet has on many occasions welcomed me as a guest into her home, where she pampers me to excess (although I plead with Janet not to fuss!). My annual trips to England are not made expressly to add new chapters to my lifelong project of self-education; each time I fly Eastward across the Atlantic I’m also looking forward to spending another week or two with my lovely, adopted, English family. The 10 acres of gardens at The Garden House offer a sumptuous horticultural immersion in color, scent, texture and form. For an Introduction, I’ll quote just a bit from their “About the Garden and its History” pamphlet: “On his retirement from teaching at Eton College in 1945, Lionel Fortescue and his wife Katherine moved into the former Georgian vicarage with its 10 acres of land, to begin the creation of what is today recognized as one of the most wonderfully diverse gardens in Britain: The Garden House. Lionel [first] set about designing and imaginatively planting the 2-acre terraced Walled Garden, centered on the ruins of a 16th century village.

“ “Lionel and Katherine had the foresight to set up a charitable trust in 1961, to secure the Garden’s future, and successive Head Gardeners have used their own creative talent to further develop the garden…always respecting the horticultural legacy of the Fortescues. Keith Wiley spent 25 years boldly expanding the garden in a style known as ‘New Naturalism,’ where plant collections are used to recreate natural landscapes from around the world. Examples of Keith’s inspiration can be seen in the 6 acres of the western garden: the cottage garden, wildflower meadow, Acer Glade…and the Magic Circle. With gently sloping paths across its 2 acre site, the new Jubilee Arboretum was planted by Head Gardener Matt Bishop, to commemorate 50 years of the Fortescue Trust. Stewardship of the garden is now in the capable hands of Nick Haworth.” Please now: join me as I retrace our steps through the Gardens. This Map — somewhat different from the Map illustrated on the Garden’s pamphlet — is posted at the Garden’s Ticket Booth. My traveling companions buy their tickets Just beyond the Ticket Booth, we were enveloped by lushly-planted borders.

In the distance, a bit of the circular Front Lawn is visible. But before ANY garden-tromping could occur, we needed to indulge in the Tea Rooms’ top-notch cakes and coffees. Image courtesy of The Garden House. From behind the House, we peered down to the Tennis Court Lawn, which is on an upper terrace of the Walled Garden. A Moon Window has been carved through the high hedge which separates the House from the Bowling Green Terrace From the western end of the Bowling Green Terrace one first passes through a rustic summerhouse, which opens onto this extraordinary cascade of steps, ramps and raised beds: called THE OVAL GARDEN. Detail of the utterly captivating Oval Garden At the lowest point in the Oval Garden: a shaded, circular terrace, with a view of the Bottom Terrace Garden. From the Oval Garden’s shaded terrace, a view uphill, toward the Summerhouse at the top of the steps. The precision with which these dry-laid stone walls were constructed is amazing. The Walled Garden’s Tennis Court Lawn, with a view uphill, to the Main House. Foxgloves were in their full glory. From the Tennis Court Lawn, Tom’s Steps lead up the the Camellia Walk, and to the House.

Blossoms (which we were too late in the season to see), on the Camellia Walk. Image courtesy of The Garden House. Walled Garden Plaque The Tennis Court Lawn The borders on all sides of the Tennis Court Lawn were bursting with foxgloves and climbing roses. AT the northeastern corner of the Tennis Court Lawn: a gate leading down to the Tower Ruins, and to the Bottom Terrace Garden. The Tower Ruins, and Bottom Terrace Garden. A closer look at the Tower Ruins and the Bottom Terrace Garden Looking westward, along the central path of the Bottom Terrace Garden View from the Bottom Terrace Garden, up toward the House. Tower Ruins Leaving the Birch Wood, we head back toward the House, following the Long Walk We enter the South African Garden The central path through the South African Garden South African Garden More wonderful textures in the South African Garden Our visit to the Garden House nearly done, we savored the exuberant colors and textures in the South African area. After I’d organized my photos of The Garden House — all taken this past June — I checked the Garden’s website to confirm their contact information. I found this photo of the Meadow below the Wisteria Bridge, in Autumn.

Clearly, these Gardens shine, in EVERY season. Image courtesy of The Garden House. For plant-lovers, this Garden is a crucial destination. Following my two hours of blissfully-restful-total-plant-immersion at The Garden House, we made the barely-five-minute commute to nearby Buckland Abbey. Ideally, the Abbey, its Gardens, and its vast Estates should be explored over the course of an entire day. Buckland offers an embarrassment of riches. With over 700 years of architecture, history, and fine craftsmanship and art to study (including a Rembrandt self-portrait, recently bequeathed to the Abbey), along with acres of gardens, and miles of country walks to enjoy, the place begs a Visitor to Amble. Good food is available at the Ox Yard Restaurant. And there’s even an abused-chicken-rescue project going on, in a far corner of the Kitchen Garden. Buckland Abbey was established in 1278 by Cistercian monks.

In 1541, After King Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries, the vast estates of the Abbey (which encompassed 20,000 acres) passed into private hands and so eventually became home to two of England’s most swashbuckling maritime personalities : Sir Richard Grenville, followed by Sir Francis Drake. The National Trust opened the Abbey and its estates to the Public in 1951. Image courtesy of The National Trust Buckland Abbey, Garden & Estate Yelverton, Devon PL20 6EY The Abbey buildings, garden, and estate are all open from March through October (with limited hours during the colder months). Plan of Buckland Abbey’s Gardens; and a Map of the Walks across the landscape of the Estate. Key to Estate Walks: YELLOW= Abbots Walk, 1 mile. GREEN=Grenville Walk, 1 ½ miles. RED=Drake Walk, 2 ½ miles.

BLUE=Amicia Walk, 3 miles Leaving the Car Park, we follow a footpath, which was built in 1988 Visitors enter the Abbey complex through the Ox Yard court Plants grown in the Abbey’s gardens are for sale, in the Entry Court The semi-octagonal Ox Yard is enclosed by sheds that were constructed during the 1790s. Today’s outdoor Café stands where the “Dung Yard” once was…home to the Abbey’s 22 oxen. The cluster of ancient buildings which form the Abbey are nestled into the valley of the River Tay; one feels utterly cushioned in the bosom of the land…it’s hard to remember that an ocean churns nearby, only nine miles to the south. But this very proximity to the sea is what made the Abbey such an appealing home, for two of Devon’s most famous seafarers. In 1545, the second Sir Richard Grenville, while still an infant (the first Sir Richard, his father, had purchased the Abbey from Henry VIII in 1541), inherited the Abbey. Richard Two became a career soldier and sailor who dreamed of colonizing the Americas, but, without royal patronage, his schemes came to nothing.

In 1580, bitter about his failure to gain Royal sponsorship (which should have led to the Greatness and Fame that Richard desperately craved), Grenville sold the property to a more successful adventurer, Sir Francis Drake, who had just achieved the distinction of being the first Englishman to circumnavigate the globe (an endeavor which lasted from 1577 until 1580). As my companions and I explored the Abbey, I became so enthralled by the architecture and by the gardens that I failed to carefully read The National Trust’s guidebook about the property; burying my nose in reference materials is something I always do…but later, after the day’s touring is done. As I entered the Abbey, I thought: Home of Francis Drake? Well…that’s interesting. Sir Francis Drake. Born circa 1540, in Devon. Died 1596, in Panama.

But, had I then paid closer attention to the Trust’s Guidebook, I would have tumbled to the fact that the Abbey was also home to Sir Richard Grenville, who eventually became Vice Admiral of England’s fleet, and thus the hero of Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s poem THE REVENGE: A BALLAD OF THE FLEET . Sir Richard Grenville. Born 1542, in Devon. Died 1591, off Flores, Azores Islands. Had I done my homework that day, right there, right then, scraps of verse would have been dislodged, off from dusty shelves at the back of my brain: “At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a flutter’d bird, came flying from far away. ‘Spanish ships of war at sea! We have sighted fifty three!’ ….He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and fight, And he sail’d away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight, With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow. ‘Shall we fight or shall we fly? Good Sir Richard, tell us now, For to fight is but to die!

There’ll be little of us left by the time this sun be set.’ And Sir Richard said again: ‘We be all good English men, Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil, For I never turned my back on Don or devil yet.’ Sir Richard spoke and he laugh’d, and we roar’d a hurrah , and so The little ‘Revenge’ ran on, sheer into the heart of the foe. With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below; For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen, And the little ‘Revenge’ ran on thro’ the long sea-lane between.” Etching of the REVENGE, at the Battle of Flores, Azores. 1591. “…And the night went down, and the sun smiled out from over the summer sea, And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay around us all in a ring: But they dared not touch us again, for they fear’d that we still could sting.

So they watch’d what the end would be, And we had not fought them in vain, But in perilous plight were we, Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain, And half of the rest of us maim’d for life In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife; And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold, And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it spent; And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side; But Sir Richard cried in his English pride, ‘We have fought such a fight for a day and a night As may never be fought again! We have won great glory, my men! And a day less or more At sea or ashore, We die – does it matter when? Sink me the ship, Master Gunner – sink her, split her in twain! Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain ! ‘ …. ” With his poem about the ship ‘Revenge,’ Alfred, Lord Tennyson… Alfred, Lord Tennyson (born 1809, died 1892). Poet Laureate of Great Britain during much of Queen Victoria’s reign.

…bestowed upon Sir Richard the immortality that Grenville had sought. Of course, with his 14 stanzas Tennyson also dished up a prime cut of adrenaline-boosting, chest-pounding, revisionist history, nationalist propaganda and sheer poppycock! But what memorable Poppycock! Such is the Power of Rhythm and Rhyme. Poetry seminar over, we’ll take a fast look inside the Abbey: Plan of the ground floor rooms of Buckland Abbey. Image courtesy of The National Trust From the get-go, the Cistercian Abbey of St. Mary and St. Benedict at Buckland was a very well funded operation. Reconstruction of how the Abbey might have looked shortly after it was built in the late 13th century. Image courtesy of The National Trust. The Abbey was founded by Amicia de Redvers, matriarch of a boundlessly-wealthy Devon family. As you can see from the previous drawing, the Abbey in its original form, along with its Great Barn, was expansive and anything but humble. We enter the Abbey through a short projecting wing that was built in the 1800s to contain a new staircase.

The Tower was once at the cross-point of a larger structure. The roofline of the demolished south transept is still visible on the Tower’s exterior…just to the right of the FALSE flying buttress. The buttress is actually a chimney flue! To the east of the front entry is the kitchen wing, which was added by Grenville, and then expanded in the 18th century. Per The National Trust: “This wing still reveals the retaining arches of the chapels that once issued from the east wall of the south transept at ground-floor level.” Upstairs, in the Drake Chamber: A Ship Model. Nothing in this space is original to the time when Drake made the Abbey his home. The beautiful ceiling in the Drake Chamber was installed in 1988. The hand-modeled frieze is done in a traditional, Devon style. M.C.Escher-ish view, from the front hall stairway, toward the Georgian Staircase. A window by a landing on the front stairs has been etched to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the Spanish Armada.

Inside the Abbey (which over the course of 700 years has been added to, remodeled, and sometimes deconstructed) the collision of eras and architectural styles is most evident upstairs, where the traceried arch in the Lifetimes Gallery once formed part of an outside window looking out over the abbey chancel. The Georgian Staircase, which rises through 4 floors, was built in the late 18th century. The Kitchen is in the Abbey’s east wing, and was built by Sir Richard Grenville to absorb the monastic chancel. Two open Hearths dominate the room. The second of the massive Hearths in the Kitchen. The antlers above the south Hearth are (fancifully) said to belong to a stag who once chased Sir Francis Drake up a tree. Per The National Trust: “The Great Hall is positioned within the original crossing area of the church, directly beneath the tower and adjacent to the south transept that was demolished [in 1576] by Grenville to bring light to this, the most lavishly-remodeled room in the Abbey.” Every square inch of the Great Hall is decorated: from the plaster ceiling, right down to the stone-tiled floor.

The Great Hall’s upper walls are embellished with allegorical scenes. These plasterwork decorations have survived, exactly as they were, ever since Sir Richard Grenville’s occupancy of the Abbey. Detail of the amazing, dizzying floor, in the Great Hall The Great Hall’s ceiling is supported by shield-bearing satyrs. The Great Hall’s granite fireplace, with herringbone pattern of slate at the back, is typical of the 16th century. Detail of hearth, in the Great Hall I very much enjoyed wandering through the architectural hodge-podge of rooms inside the Abbey itself, but the most magnificent structure within Buckland’s complex of buildings is certainly the Great Barn, which was erected in 1300. From the outside, the Barn, with its progressions of buttresses and arches, is striking. The eastern elevation of the Great Barn The western elevation of the Great Barn But, from within, the Great Barn presents one of the most impressive volumes of space I’ve ever inhabited. The Barn’s interior is far more inspiring than most of the ecclesiastical buildings I’ve visited. My view, looking toward the south end of the Great Barn.

The walls date from 1300, and the arch-braced wooden roof was constructed in the 15th century. Continuing with The National Trust’s description: “The outstanding architectural feature of Buckland is the Great Barn. It was clearly planned for a prosperous community and belongs to the same period as the abbey church. Its dimensions seem to dwarf the church, and it is set obliquely only 24m from the chancel. The putlog holes where the medieval scaffolding was inserted are still open, and dovecotes remain above the great medieval doorways.” The barn would have been used for storage: of harvested crops, and for wood and hides from the Abbey’s estates. The central space, at the crossing-point of the Barn’s wings, was kept clear, and used for winnowing. My view, toward the north end of the Great Barn An 18th century Cider Press is installed at the north end of the Great Barn. A massive door, in the Great Barn Medieval Putlog holes are still open, in the Great Barn’s stone walls. I exited the Great Barn through this west-facing doorway. Outside of the Great Barn, I found this superb Herb Garden.

Remember, the walls which form the backdrop for this Garden were built in 1300. Walls of such antiquity are the Ultimate Garden Ornament. Per The National Trust: “ It is probable that the Herb Garden outside of the Great Barn was established after a visit by Vita Sackville-West. The irregular-shaped beds contain over 40 different herbs.” [ Note: For a good look at Vita-Sackville West’s own gardens at Sissinghurst, read my Armchair Diary titled PART THREE. RAMBLING THROUGH THE GARDENS & ESTATES OF KENT, ENGLAND. ] The Herb Garden, and the Great Barn The Herb Garden We headed toward the northern-most portions of the Abbey’s Gardens. The grounds immediately surrounding the Barn and Abbey are all 20th-century creations… but creations which are seamlessly integrated into ancient settings. This merging of the modern and the antique is something at which British gardeners excel. Our first stop: the “Elizabethan Garden,” which was designed during the 1990s in a Tudor style. We approach the forecourt of the Elizabethan Garden. The Abbot’s Tower is in the background.

Armillary in the forecourt of the Elizabethan Garden, with the north end of the Great Barn looming behind. The central path in the Elizabethan Garden. At center, rear: The Abbey’s Tower (which was originally located at the center of a larger building), with its undulating battlements (these decorative flourishes were added in the 18th century). A closer look at the North Front of the Abbey, as seen from the Elizabethan Garden. Central Pool in the Elizabethan Garden, with the Abbot’s Tower in the background. In search of the Kitchen Garden, we follow this alleyway, which runs outside the northern wall of the Elizabethan Garden. These walls are ancient farmyard enclosures, and have been used to define newly-made gardens. The Gate to the Kitchen Garden A corner of the extensive Kitchen Garden The Kitchen Garden Barry and Janet rest in a sunny corner of the Kitchen Garden. The Great Barn, and the Abbey, as seen from within the Kitchen Garden. Chickens, rescued from abominable living conditions, now recover in the Kitchen Garden. The British Hen Welfare Trust is saving chickens by the tens of thousands. Time to head west, toward the Cider House Garden.

The eastern-most sections of the Cider House Garden abut the Cider House Bed & Breakfast building (shown here)….looks like QUITE a nice place to bunk, eh? The private terrace of the Cider House’s Bed & Breakfast accommodation. More and more of The National Trust’s properties are offering B&B lodgings (earlier in this Diary, I forgot to mention that a B&B is also on site, at Agatha Christie’s Greenway). The B&B area of the Cider House Garden, with the northern hills of the Estate, in the background. A new Rill has been added to the B&B area of the Cider House Garden. We’re now within the public section of the Cider House Garden, with wonderful views of the Estate’s hillsides, where flocks of sheep graze. Lushly-planted borders in the Cider House Garden.

A green archway at the western end of the Cider House Garden This gate separates the Cider House Garden and the Wild Garden Detail of the Cider House/Wild Garden gate David and Anne rest their feet, in a Wild Garden Shelter Our visit to Buckland’s gardens nearly complete, we leave the Wild Garden, and head back across the Central Lawn of the Cider House Garden. Just past the eastern gate to the Cider House Garden, we came upon this beautiful but slightly disturbing bench. (Horses’ heads immediately lead to thoughts of that grisly scene in GODFATHER ONE.) Having enjoyed this final look at the Abbot’s Tower, we decided that our Scones-and-Tea-Time was LONG overdue, and so repaired to the Ox Yard Cafe. Back at the Car Park, I decided that, at some point in the future, I must return to Buckland Abbey: there are still Estate Walks to explore. (Note: the shaded gray area on the Visitors’ Map indicates the Bed & Breakfast area of the Cider House Garden.) Having hatched plans to meet Janet and Barry later for dinner back in Dartmouth, Anne and David and I took our leave from Buckland Abbey.

Anne decided that our homeward travels should be along more scenic routes than those of our utilitarian, morning commute. And so Anne’s chosen path led us from west to east, and across the otherworldly landscapes of Devon’s Dartmoor National Park. Map of Dartmoor National Park. website: Apart from knowing that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle set his novel THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES amid the mist-shrouded peat bogs of Devon, I’d given little thought to the existence of Dartmoor. Book cover of the First Edition But my too-brief visit there, in late afternoon of June 29th, made an indelible impression . Visions of Dartmoor’s intricate folds in the land; of stark pyramids of hundreds of rocky tors; of wild horses grazing; of free-roaming cows wallowing in ponds; and of still more cattle lounging proprietarily on the warm pavements of the narrow roadways; of the depressing, Victorian hulk of Princetown’s high security prison; of hilltops which made me feel as if I had ascended into the sky…these images now enrich me.

Rarely have I been enveloped by such clarity of light, or have I been in a place that seemed simultaneously so joyful, and yet so forlorn. A quarter of the way into the Park, we stopped near Walkhampton, at a car park on Route B3212. Bicyclists, Cattle and Motorists congregate by Route B3212, on one of south Dartmoor’s higher peaks. Google satellite view of that same car park and cattle pond. Clearly Contended Cows, with a Tor on the horizon. “Tor” is an old English term, probably Celtic in origin. A Tor is a pile of bare rocks, at the peak of a hill. A closer look at the Tor, which is a natural outcropping of bedrock. My eastern view, toward a giant Tor in the distance. My view, to the north east Wild Horses grazing, alongside the road A Mother and her Colt: utterly indifferent to my presence. These animals know that this land belongs to them.

The more I see of the World, the more the disparate threads of my hundreds of preoccupations — preoccupations which I’ve accumulated over many decades — seem to intertwine into something resembling a Sensible Whole, one which makes me suspect that there might indeed be an Actual Narrative to my Life. In Southern Devon, especially, Landscape and Warfare and History and Mysteries and Myth, along with Gardens and Architecture and Livestock and Poetry and Art: these all presented themselves to me as indispensible parts of an enormously rich Whole, and a Whole which resonated with me on the deepest, personal levels. I constantly yearn to revisit all of the marvels that I’ve been fortunate enough to see. But my thoughts about Southern Devon have become more than mere longing: I now think of the place with love. Part Two of my Travel Diary about Southern Devon will appear, in time… My most enduring memory of Dartmoor. Copyright 2015. Nan Quick—Nan Quick’s Diaries for Armchair Travelers. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express & written permission from Nan Quick is strictly prohibited.

Question: Whose drum can be seen at Buckland Abbey in Devon?
Answer: FRANCIS DRAKE'S