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Walks

Walks
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Stand amidst the Moor’s 600-year-old oak woods, or lean against Widgery Cross on Brat Tor, with ancient moorland unfolding into blue distance, and you will be aware of time extending to an ever-receding horizon, and you will feel small.

On a sunny day, if you look across to Jurston Farm nestling in the foothills of Shapley Common, or visit North Bovey with its thatched cottages and village green, it is easy to forget that Dartmoor is a wilderness, where man clings precariously, and briefly, to the vastness of the land.

Some 280 million years ago, granite flowed as molten rock from deep within the earth, and the Moor was born. Carved by the wind, chiselled by ice, glazed by water, it is a living sculpture. Run your hands down the rough layers of Watern Tor, or across the smooth rock basins at Great Mis and Kes Tors. Gaze at White Lady Waterfall cascading into the lush woodland of Lydford Gorge or watch dragonflies skimming Gallaven Mire and the waterlogged valleys where peat is formed. You are witnessing the shaping of the land.

Scale the heights for a buzzard’s eye view of the Moor – stone circles at Grey Wethers, abstract rings on a grainy backdrop tinged with rust; Vellake Corner, bracken gold, sliced by the indigo stripe of the River Okement; patchwork reaves below Corndon Tor, speckled with snow, glittering ice-silver. From yellow gorse to purple heather, drystone walls to granite clitter, Dartmoor is awash with colour, etched with texture, its mood shifting with cloud-shadow, sunlight and the changing seasons.