Nowadays the expansive Fox Tor Mire
offers little more than a
slushy hassle to Sunday hikers,
but just over a century ago, it
inspired the infamous Grimpen Mire.

At that time the bog was known to swallow up a fair share of moor-land sheep and ponies, a dreadful fact that lodged in Doyle's imagination. However, legends and speculation aside, no records have ever surfaced of a human sinking to his death in the peat. Actually most ill-fated livestock died of hypothermia, not by drowning.

Whether this disappoints or relieves the would-be traveler, the area still attracts a wide array of hikers and casual ramblers, sometimes by the coach load. The surrounding hilltops open onto the stark panorama of the moor. Nearby lie both Whiteworks, an abandoned tin mine, and Childe's Tomb, the fabled resting place of Childe the Hunter. Princetown, which lies within two miles of the mire, works well as a starting point for hikers interested in the precursor to Grimpen; Doyle himself occupied a room there at the Royal Duchy Hotel during his exploration of Dartmoor. Unfortunately the hotel has since ceased to exist, though the National Park Authority and Duchy of Cornwall renovated the building in 1991 to house the High Moorland Visitor Centre.

As one heads northward from the central crossroads, the village's convict prison looms darkly across an otherwise inviting countryside. Unlike most of the sites that Doyle adopted for the text of Hound, Princetown Prison boasts a definite locale and a concrete presence in our reality. When the prison first opened (1809), POWs of the Napoleonic Wars spent time within its cold stone walls. While imprisoned officers were able to exert influence, so far as holding bank accounts and employing servants, the majority of prisoners suffered from inadequate food, water, and shelter from wind and rain. Within the first year of its establishment, a Plymouth coroner tallied more deaths in his record book than the previous fourteen years combined.

At the end of the war, a thirty-four year gap followed during which the barracks were rented out to local miners and quarrymen. These men were evicted in 1850 when government officials re-fitted the structure as a maximum security convict prison. This is the very same edifice from which Selden escapes to lurk in shadows upon the moor, but do not plan on visiting: the grounds are still in operation today, some two hundred years after its foundation.

Just outside the meager commercial sector of town, a public bridle path cuts eastward and out toward the open moor. Ordinance surveys indicate the trail as a segment of the far-reaching Dartmoor Way, but no signs appear nearby to confirm this designation. Do not be averted by poorly marked junctions because the trail ahead proves rife with them. Keep a map handy and a compass on your person. Seemingly minor preparations can often save the eager rambler from becoming pixy-led. Three such junctions spring up within the first kilometer of this walk. As the trail winds away from town, all signs of civilization slowly dissolve. The first crossroads comes near Bachelor's Cottage. At this point a sign directs travelers either toward Holming Beam or Peat Cottage, but for the time being, choose the right-hand fork to Peat Cottage.

Shortly thereafter the path merges briefly with section of paved road. Turn left at this junction (in a roughly eastward direction) and round the bend through a small patch of woodland. These clumps of forest which crop up here and there around the moor exist primarily due to active planting by Dartmoor natives. That is why many of the copses mostly include conifers, rather than species naturally occurring in the region. Those few trees that grow naturally on the moor have contorted into ghastly shapes from the wind. Consequently, most of these cultivated areas were actually planted with this purpose, as a wind-guard for nearby pastures.

The last of these early junctions leads further east and once more onto a grassy bridle path. The road continues south towards Peat cottage. Stretching out ahead will be the wide open moor, somewhat startling in its simple, untended beauty. A few curious cows might wander past and a few cautious sheep will likely scurry away. Some of the cattle might act in a territorial manner, but if hikers stay on the path and show minimal interest, these brazen few will soon lose interest. For the next two and half kilometers, the path blurs onward towards the horizon, a gentle undulation half-transparent in the distance.

After a considerable distance, Prince Hall Hotel will become visible on the left-hand side. With its bright white facade, it offers a striking visual contrast to the wiry earthen moor. The hotel lies on the outskirts of the hamlet of Two Bridges, so named for its position only a few hundred yards north of the West Dart and Cowsic Rivers' merging. Crockern Tor rises in silhouette just beyond that hamlet. Back in the heyday of tin-mining on Dartmoor, the Old Stannary Parliament would meet on this rocky outcrop to negotiate the policies of the local industries. Supposedly, the site was because it lay at almost the direct center of the moor; ninety-six representatives would gather there from each of Dartmoor's quadrants.

As the route continues, an unmarked trail sprouts off toward the south. As this trail eventually meets up with the marked trail near the Strane River, it presents a clear alternative to the main route should you find yourself wandering into an unexpected squishy patch of ground. Though orientation proves significantly easier on mapped bridleways, moorland travel necessitates flexibility: expect at some point to come upon an unexpected bog! All hikes require some ingenuity from time to time, but Dartmoor asks a little more improvisation than most.

The actual route links up with the Dartmoor Way at a long wooden fence marking the boundary between access land and private property. This next trail makes a beeline southwest towards Whiteworks. Several nameless stone circles and cairns dot this area and might prove worth the hunt for hikers neither on a strict timetable nor already jaded to the remains of man's stone age forebears.

This section of the trail allows the rambler a panorama view of this barren landscape, which Doyle himself summed many "rugged tors and tangled masses of half-withered vegetation." The Strane River bubbles along within this deserted expanse and feeds the silent yet patient basin of Fox Tor Mire. Though no bridge lies within sight, the river has many narrow points that beg to be hopped across. The remains of Whiteworks lie just beyond another large wooden gateway. Dry stone walls hold in sheep and old mining pits sit complacently as Nature reclaims them. This brief walk past the ghosts of long-abandoned toil mark a distinct jumping-off point before the mucky centerpiece of this journey.

Fox Tor Mire itself offers little scenic beauty, though its ambiance evinces echoes of the lifeless moor. Despite passing other hikers intermittently on the trails, an odd sense of remoteness pervades. A simple walk along the outskirts of the mire enhances this eeriness by imposing the uncanny sensation of either walking on water, or squishing in land, or both at the same time.

Topping off the uneven furrows of turf lie great gray puffs of straw and other grasses--dry as death--but a single misplaced step through these patches reveals a completely invisible under-layer of bright green algae and scum. The greener patches of rushes across the mire surface divulge the particularly mucky stretches, otherwise read as spots to be avoided. Just a quick hike provides a feast of incongruous sensation, and a naturalist's dream.

Many times the trail across the mire cannot be discerned from the mire itself. At these times especially, waterproof boots are a must. For your own safety, however, do not trudge out into the open mire without a clear path. This warning goes doubly for solitary hikers. Childe's Tomb lies on the far side of the bog and the simplicity of a straight walk may tempt the cavalier. Even today though, the mire has a few surprises up its sleeve, and discretion should be used at all times.

Imagine a cold night here, a half-moon rising. A hound howls in the distance and a fearsome chase starts through the fickle vegetation. It is easy to see how this spot might give rise to horrific dreams and startling adventures.

With Fox Tor Mire behind, all that lies ahead will be the return route to Princetown, which follows the small roadway starting at Whiteworks. Plan at least four hours for the entirety of the Fox Tor Mire Circuit, and leave yourself some extra space to possibly wander to Childe's Tomb, Fox Tor, or anything that seems to catch the eye.

Those traveling by automobile may significantly reduce the duration of this hike, by using the small car park which lies nearby off this access road. More livestock await you on the return journey, and South Hessory Tor if you so choose.

[NOTE: Image at right produced from Ordnance Survey's Get-a-map service. Image reproduced with permission of Ordnance Survey and Ordnance Survey of Northern Ireland.]

Copyright ©2008 James M. Miller
Kenyon College. All rights reserved.