Blundering about on Dartmoor

This was one of those Dartmoor walks that did NOT go well. Stupidly I left the compass and paper map at home, instead relying on a smartphone - henceforth to be known as an ‘arse-wipe’ phone. (Think… what does doom-scrolling remind you of?)

Yes, I know... mountain rescue teams regularly remind folk that phones are just not good enough for navigation in Britain’s hill areas. Aside from the jack-of-all-trades/master-of-nothing nature of the beast, the limited battery power, screens that can’t be read in ordinary light, there are a whole host of other problems. Yes, they work - until they don’t. If the damn thing starts to play silly buggers, you’ve no backup and the weather is foul (as it is so often on Dartmoor), you stand an excellent chance of being the object of merriment to a mountain rescue team when, after rescuing you, they head to the pub. Trust me - I was in cave rescue for a time - and I know what happens to the reputation of the badly prepared when they screw up.

In my case I strode past the tor where I should have turned left (mainly because I didn’t think that this jumble of rocks was impressive enough to be called a Dartmoor tor), and in total ignorance walked into a military firing area. Fortunately the army had decided that day not to fire at idiot hill walkers and the customary red flags on relevant tors were not flying. Having said that, it would only take a squaddie to forget orders and fail to raise a flag, and you’d stride on in blissful ignorance that you’re walking into the modern-day equivalent of the Somme.

Next time I’m taking a bloody paper map and compass. Seriously thinking as well of one of those nice shiny, and expensive, Garmin units aimed at walkers and mountaineers.

Anyway - because of my detour (which I did, in truth, rather enjoy), I failed to visit the remains of the copper mine I had set my heart desire on and only managed to achieve the first objective - photographing a long-abandoned farm.

So this is Twyst (or Twist, or Twyste) Farm - abandoned in the 1930s - slowly sinking into dereliction for almost a century - or maybe not, according to one information source. It’s a curious feeling, when walking around it, to think that entire families once lived and farmed here.

So here’s a little history afore the photographs…

Twyst is mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086. The inhabitants of the farm had venville rights, which allowed them to pasture sheep and cattle on the moor after sunset. They were also allowed to take what they needed for their own use from the moor, such as turf and peat for fires and stone for hedging and building.

The farm was sold in 1934 and was either abandoned just before that or when it was sold.

From census data from 1841 onwards (the first census), the farm was inhabited successively until 1911 (the last census available publicly) by the Geake, Maddock and Harvie families - with up to four children at one time.

Although it’s generally supposed that the farm was abandoned soon after the sale in 1934, there is one record that suggests the farm was inhabited by an ex-army man, Gilbert Pomeroy, in 1952.