Where the BRonze Age Lives on!
Rough Tor doesn’t invite you—it dares you. Bodmin Moor’s second-highest hill, all jagged granite and Bronze Age ghosts, was the lookout for shepherds who’d rather freeze than lose a lamb. For centuries, they climbed its slopes, eyeing flocks or scanning for taxmen chasing smuggled brandy. Some swore the Tor hid casks in its crags; others whispered of Charlotte Dymond’s 1844 murder, her ghost drifting nearby. No matter—those shepherds, cussing the wind, made Rough Tor their own. Today, you’ll dodge bogs to reach the summit, where hut circles hint at folks who lived here 3,000 years ago. It’s not a stroll; boots get muddy, and the moor’s fog plays tricks. From the top, Bodmin’s wild sprawl shuts you up. No signposts, just cairns and sheep that don’t care. Nearby Jamaica Inn’s got pints to warm your bones. Rough Tor’s no viewpoint—it’s where you earn your stories. Scribble yours, we'd love to hear it at info@cornwallthrive.com or bunk at our VRBO cottage for more moorland grit.
Discover Cornwall’s myths, from Padstow’s charm to Tintagel’s legends, monthly.