Across drab moorland on the eastern side of Bodmin Moor, blue sky is mirrored in rushy pools, hoof prints and seeping spring water. On the slopes of the ridge above Trebartha’s woods, low sun highlights sharp edges of surface moorstone, cleaved centuries ago when cut blocks were manoeuvred downhill for local use as building stone, gateposts, lintels and farmyard troughs. Remaining granite is encrusted with lichens and tufts of emerald moss; the shallow pits beside part-buried boulders mere reminders of times when this remote hillside was the work destination for stonemasons.
On the top, a melee of ruinous walls and stones on the site of a tumulus give long views across lower fields, scattered with wind turbines facing into today’s north-westerly breeze. Up here, on this undulating spacious land, prehistoric remains are discernible among the rough grazing of coarse molinia grass, dark clumps and bushes of prickly gorse, and patches of well-drained turf favoured by cattle. Within Clitters Cairn, sheltered by a stunted thorn, is a solitary walker, contemplating the clear sky and peace of this ancient place. Straight lines of reaves – shallow boundary banks – may have defined the property of early communities when they used this land for seasonal grazing. The Nine Stones circle, inconspicuous stone rows and degraded ring cairns hint at ceremonial observance and reverence for this landscape.
Beyond the bog of Redmoor Marsh and its fast-flowing exit stream, a herd of bullocks catch the sun, particularly belted galloways with their white midriffs. Upslope, Fox Tor was another source of building material; rounded boulders and distinctive capstones with solution hollows were levered off, the toppled rocks part-split and carted away towards lower ground in this parish of Altarnun.
Following a glimpse of the distant summit of Brown Willy, we turn south-east, skirting Watery Marsh and another cattle herd, and heading towards the shadowy outlines of King Arthur’s Bed, Trewortha and Kilmar Tors. Near the edge of the open moor, hard grazed turf is rutted with tractor wheel marks, converging on deserted farmsteads where a covey of starlings flit among tall ash trees.
• Country diary is on Twitter at @gdncountrydiary
