Dartmoor is a wide, rolling moorland of wind-blown grasses, bracken and gorse. The landscape is littered with sheep and ponies, and much more besides. It is a managed land but still retains the look and feel of a timeless wilderness. Of course there are other moors in the UK, but Dartmoor has two things that make it stand out from all the others. One is the remaining relics of its ancient people, usually made in stone, such as a stone circle, or the outline of a hut, or a single monolith stuck alone in the ground. Then at other times it could be just a mound of earth, holding a tantalising mystery of something or someone buried and left for whatever reason three thousand years or so ago. And might still be there.
The second stand out feature of the moor are the scatter of tors. These granite clusters jut from the land like the remains of some spewed prehistoric volcanos, which to some extent they are. Born from a huge boiling mass of underground granite called a batholith these were pushed to the surface as molten lava a million years back. Then over as many seasons of intermittent heat and cold, they were broken or smoothed into the rocky outlines they look like now.
In all there are estimated to be around 160 individual tors spread across Dartmoor, all with curious names, their origins lost to the passage of time. Names such as Hound Tor, Vixen Tor, Combestone Tor, or the peculiarly straightforward Yes Tor. Although sadly no opposing No Tor. But of all the tors there is one that stands out from all the others.
A king of tors if you like. Haytor.
And there’s two very important reason for this. Location and size.
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