This clapper bridge has been here for nine centuries. It was built 200 years before The Black Death, 400 before the birth of Shakespeare.

It spans the East Dart River in Devon (one of the thundering, irascible rivers that inspired those in my novel, Villager) and was built from local granite so packhorses could transport tin from the nearby mines to the town of Tavistock, a few miles away. The long stone slabs (“clapper” is the name given to the combining of them with piled rock piers beneath for support) were known at the time as “posts” which is why medieval settlers chose Postbridge as the name of the village where the bridge was constructed.

I’ve walked across it several times over the years and it feels extremely sturdy.

The natural, wild world is where true magic can be found. But when humans design and build something to last, which complements that world aesthetically and practically, it’s often just as magical.