TEEN TORS
“Ithought I’d found a sneaky dry route,” explains Eliza, describing the bogs between Little Mis and Rough Tor. “She hadn’t,” laughs Joel.
“I went in up to here,” adds Jack, pointing to somewhere close to his belt.
Eliza shakes her head. “I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
“It was fine, though,” smiles Amber. “We soon dried out.”
Grins are the order of the evening as the light fades fast over a campsite in the middle of Dartmoor. There’s also a lot of laughter, and all things considered, that is pretty impressive.
Setting out from Okehampton Camp at seven that morning to the boom of artillery fire, Amber and her team from Exeter’s Isca Academy are taking part in the annual Ten
