Protected by being within the limits of the Dartmoor National Park, Postbridge may appear to be oblivious to any events on ‘the outside’. When you see dozens of sheep sauntering across the village’s arterial road, when wild ponies loiter here and there, and the endless barren moors unfold before your very eyeballs – you know you must be in Postbridge.

As well as a striking wilderness thing going on, Postbridge has some other exciting things going on too. It has two bridges – yes, count them, two bridges, you can count them on two whole fingers. One of these is yer classic 18^th century turnpike jobby, while the other is a far more impressive affair: this one, which lies around 30 metres downstream from the turnpike, is called the Postbridge Clapper Bridge and learned folks say that this bridge was first recorded in the 14^th Century.

If you dare to stride the rolloping hillocks and sweeping valleys you’ll also find various other man-made rock formations – Greywethers being a prime example. This ring of standing stones is a pretty impressive, especially against the backdrop of a dark leaden sky, brewing up a storm the way only Dartmoor can. Flanked by the howling winds and only a few windswept ponies for company, you begin to realise how this tract of barely touched land is known as one of Britain’s last remaining wildernesses.

Long after you’ve departed the sinister boulder strewn moorlands, wending your way to safety via one of the thousands of sheep tracks, you realise that while your body may have left, the cold lonely winds of Dartmoor will never truly leave you.

They also sell quite good pasties in the village shop.