In the shadow of Dartmoor Prison

So much unused land

Much of the land and valley directly behind Dartmoor prison is ungrazed and full of all manner of odd little stone bridges, an aqueduct and much wildlife. There is no fishing here and few tourists ever find it.

On the caption shown here on the right; you can clearly see the giant Colditz style fence, separating the land directly around the prison from my little trees.

Dartmoor Prison was built as a concentration camp to imprison (mostly) sailors, which we grabbed, presumably when retreating from the newly independent United States, during the American revolution. Also for Napoleon's men. Both have cemeteries on the grounds. I often think of those poor souls locked up in there today and their families, who have great difficulty getting here if they have to rely on public transport. I feel very strongly that only really dangerous people should be locked up and all should be offered help to improve their lives, instead they separate them from their families and label them for life.

Anyway hopefully my trees and plants will help begin to change the energies of this very elegant Gothic structure. It would make a wonderful hotel and out door pursuits centre.

Over the past few years, the prison has planted quite allot of native trees as well, often along the other side of the fence from my trees, which is very reassuring.

They have always been a bit "we know what you're doing, we like it, but there's too much red tape to say so." They certainly have never interfered in any way with my work.

On year 3 I was planting the valley behind the prison, when I noticed a prison warden in full get up, with 4 Alsatians. I stashed the trees and pertended to be looking at the river, as I normally do, but when he reached the nearest part of the footpath to where I was he asked me what I was doing. I gave my rehearsed blag. He said "We've been watching you for the past 3 years, we like what you're doing here!"

That's the only time I have ever really communicated with them. Since then the prison farm has closed and the Dutchy have rented the land, which surrounds my woods here, to this dreadful farmer (see pesky ponies).