MARCH 2025 · GROUNDED
Church on the hill
Brent Tor, Western Dartmoor
Brent Tor is a volcanic plug, 335 metres, and at the top of it there is a church. St Michael de Rupe. Built in the twelfth century. Still in use. The decision to build a church on this particular rock, exposed to every wind from the southwest, is either an act of extreme faith or extreme impracticality, and possibly both.

The approach from the west crosses open moorland. The land here is shaped by exposure — the trees are gnarled and low and bent in the direction of the prevailing wind, their crowns swept horizontal. They do not grow upward. The track runs through sparse grass and white stone breaks through the turf at intervals, the volcanic substrate pressing up through the shallow soil.
The decision to build a church on this particular rock, exposed to every wind from the southwest, is either an act of extreme faith or extreme impracticality, and possibly both.
Brent Tor — March 2025

From a distance the church tower reads as part of the rock rather than something placed on it. The moss on the tor walls is the same dark green as the moorland below. The exposed white rock beneath the turf matches the church's pale stonework. It is integrated in a way that more formal buildings are not.

Close to the summit, the wind is significant. The images from this height — the tor against a heavy grey sky, the valley patchwork visible far below — were made in the kind of weather that makes you work fast between gusts. A dirt track leading through moorland toward the tor, fence posts on one side, cloud above, the church small at the top.

Two images of gnarled, solitary trees on the open moorland. In both, the tree is doing the work — the wind has been a collaborator for decades, and the result is a form more interesting than anything symmetrical.
