With miles of moorland to explore, Martha Terry delights in the best a Dartmoor holiday has to offer
Vegas picks her way through a tumbling river. The little skewbald mare is up to her belly in fast-flowing water, but surges forward to scramble, catlike, up the bank. Next we’re cantering through the heather, the hessian hues of Dartmoor’s hills stretching ahead. It feels like we can gallop forever, on and on over the 368 square miles of moorland, but Vegas pulls up at the top of a climb as I survey the breathtaking 360° view.
Up to my left is Royal Hill, far off in the distance is Crockern Tor, while all around there’s barely a speck of civilisation to be seen, just the odd farm dwelling among miles and miles of yellow gorse, mires, purple heather and the occasional herd of Dartmoor hill ponies. This is truly a place you can empty your head of life’s clutter.