Lynton, Lynmouth and Exmoor Advertiser, January 2020

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JANUARY 2020 33
As evening approached near Glenthorne
A short story in four parts
written by Richard Small, a North Devon author
He parked his car on the desolate earth lay-by just before County Gate and
set off on foot in search of adventure.
His mind was taken by a sign that read, ‘Site of ancient Barrow’. It took
longer than anticipated but he eventually found the site and stood on a high point
and enjoyed the commanding view of the valleys around, just as they who built it
must have done.
His plan was changing all the time but he was enjoying it all so much, the
view, the air, the sunshine. . . that raw connection with nature itself. He decided to
walk further afield and downhill towards the beach some one mile distant. At first
his way was barred by thick undergrowth and fences but he eventually found a
suitable track.
His effort was rewarded. Glenthorne beach was surreally beautiful and
obviously rarely visited. He rested a while, looking at patterns in the stones and the
antics of a friendly Robin. Perhaps he’d stayed too long but it was such a wonderful
day and he was sure he could easily retrace his steps. It was a relentless but
steady 3,000 feet climb back to the road where he had earlier abandoned his car.
First he had to climb over a fallen tree and land slip that blocked the path and had
nearly kept him from reaching the beach. It was a climb for a younger man than he
but the day was good and there seemed a touch of misplaced youth in his being.
So far so good, he’d taken a track which he believed would meet up with the
one he’d used for the descent. He felt he’d reached about a third of the way but a
quick glance at the lowering sun told him he’d better get on with it, no more dilly
dallying, time for some serious walking.
After a few minutes, he stopped to catch his breath and looked back to view
his progress. Horror of horrors, he was on the wrong track, he was climbing on the
wrong side of the wooded valley … he needed to be the other side, on the far hill,
damn it all.
With misplaced confidence exceeding questionable ability, he decided to cut
across country through the woods, taking a straight line for where he thought he’d
find his car. It was to turn out to be one of life’s more regrettable decisions.
To be continued
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