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Illustration
No.7
“Voices at Merrivale” |
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Our
final stop before dinner was at Merrivale near the beach
at Dartmoor. It was very foggy and even a bit rainy here,
surprisingly so after the morning’s sunshine. Even
in such miserable weather, we bought ice cream cones from
a truck on the beach before driving up to Merrivale. The
site is huge, made of two very long double rows of small
stones, a number of monoliths, and at least one stone
circle, all spread out over several hundred yards. Jeff
trekked out to the far end of the formation and I stayed
behind to walk the rows and have an invigorating puff
of my pipe.
As
I began to smoke, I noticed a number of voices around
me—the babbling of a stream that cut between the
stone rows, the bleats of dozens of sheep wandering around
the site, the sizzling gurgle of my pipe, and the lost
murmurings of ancient ghosts who were once men, women,
and children gathered at this site. The stone rows here
were named “The Plague Market” in the seventeenth
century, when locals brought food here for the banished
victims of the Black Death. But this wasn’t just
a hospital. Merrivale must have been a meeting place of
great vivacity and life. I pictured processions, dancing,
and children running in circles and laughing while their
parents talked of weightier matters.
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