he landscape of the first national park is lined with packhorse routes, signposted by no-longer-straight standing stones and old bridges just wide enough for a pony carrying panniers of salt or silks strapped to its side. Yet more public houses were opened to provide sustenance and shelter to packhorsemen – or jaggers – making their way from town to town trading. This was often the side-hustle of local farmers during tough seasons, and they were long days of slow progress for both man and beast. The
