We also liked

Port Isaac ( pictured), once a fishing village, now better known as the setting for Doc Martin, was undeniably pretty – the one place we went that was relatively busy! On Bodmin Moor, on the other hand, the only souls we met were wild ponies and the occasional fell runner. Its windswept and beautiful expanse was punctuated by stone rows, positioned carefully by our prehistoric forebears for unknown, possibly ceremonial reasons, and mighty tors – piles of weathered rock resembling craggy faces. We put our hoods up as the wind whipped past and walked for miles, stopping only for a cream tea served in a ramshackle outhouse by a farmer’s wife. It was an exhilarating way to spend a couple of hours.