Gentle bird song and the soothing gurgle of water flowing over boulders wake me at dawn. The spring sun is not visible yet, but its pale-yellow light is catching the tops of the steep, tussock-clad valley where I spent the night. I am completely alone; it’s just me and my thoughts.
These are the kinds of moments of peace and blissful contentment in nature that cannot be commodified and have been under threat since the owner of the land where I pitched my tent launched a legal case two years ago to curtail the right for the public to backpack camp on Dartmoor.
