Continuing our series on the region’s forests, Martin Hesp has been to magical Wistman’s Wood.

If for some reason I could only visit one single woodland while researching this entire series about the region's forests, I'd choose Wistman's Wood.

That may seem strange as the whole copse could be squeezed into a tiny corner of some of our grander forests – and then there's the fact that the oaks at Wistman's only manage to grow a paltry 12 feet in height at their maximum.

But for me magical, sepulchral, ancient, moody, stunted, beautiful Wistman's Wood in the heart of Dartmoor ticks lots of sylvan boxes.

For a start, although it might just be eight or so acres in size, Wistman's represents just about all that's left of a mighty forest. You could call it the forest – the vast woodland which once covered vast swathes of this peninsula's upland acres.

There is some debate about that – it has been said that Wistman's was planted in the 13th century by the ancient De Redvers family who owned large estates. Today, though, most experts believe it's one of three tiny pockets which are all that remain of the original prehistoric wild wood that cloaked many of Dartmoor's upper river valleys and some of the bald tops.

So where exactly is this living fossil of a forest – this diminutive, lichen-smothered, oasis of greenery in the granite-locked moors?

You'll find it tucked away in the wide depression that is the upper West Dart valley, a road-less mile-and-a-half north of Two Bridges. To reach it I parked in the little old roadside quarry just north of the hamlet with two bridges, and walked due north – past legendary Crockern Tor – and on up to Littaford Tors, before descending west down the contours to the sheltered acres of Wistman's Wood.

If you are in a fanciful frame of mind you will immediately be convinced of the ancient authenticity of the place. Indeed, it seems only right and proper that a rock-bound region like this should have a stunted forest in its midst. The wizened forest, which is almost entirely cloaked in lichens and mosses, looks like some lost corner of the kind of fantasy world you read about in books like The Lord of the Rings.

Wistman's is a wood for ogres and other sundry stunted hill-folk – it is not some lordly magnificent forest of the lowlands. And such thoughts are aligned with notions that people a lot brighter than me have had down the centuries. Many's the writer who has linked Wistman's with those strange, utterly vanished and slightly dubious ancestors we vaguely know as the Druids.

Here's how my predecessor at the WMN, William Crossing, was describing this Druid link when he was writing about the wood more than 100 years ago…

"When the belief was held that the Druids once turned Dartmoor into one wide temple, Wistman's Wood was regarded as being a spot they particularly patronised: indeed, it was said to have obtained its name from them, this meaning neither more nor less than the wood of the wise men. The valley, with its ruined hut dwellings, its oak groves, and the Dart perhaps as its oracle, it was probably regarded as another Dodona."

The learned Crossing also offers an explanation as to why this tiny part of the great old wild wood remained, while countless other sections of it have disappeared down the ages…

"The site of the wood, a stone-covered slope, seems altogether unsuited to the growth of trees, but in reality it is to the presence of the boulders that the oaks owe their preservation," wrote Crossing. "These have not only sheltered them, but probably prevented their being cut down for fuel by tinners."

Today the wood – one of the highest in the region at 1,300 feet above sea level – plays host to such a rare and delicate habitat it has been officially designated as a National Nature Reserve. The trees growing out from between the mossy boulders are mainly stunted pedunculate oaks – and what really interests the scientists are the many epiphytic mosses, lichens and ferns which grow upon them.

Wistman's Wood consists of three distinct regions, or groves – and the tiny oaks are joined in places by rowan, holly and willow trees. It goes without saying that the trees are stunted because they are growing up here against a good many odds – at this altitude the climate's not exactly kind and the thin acidic soils under the boulders hardly act as a bed of deep rich forest leaf mould.

But do not make the mistake of thinking that, because they are small, the trees cannot possibly be old… It's been calculated that some of Wistman's older oaks are over 500 years in age.

So what about the strange name? Was there ever a Mr Wistman, or did the Westcountry's most enigmatic woodland gain its label in some equally enigmatic way? Crossing comes up with a couple of ideas including the theory that it could be a derivation of the Celtic words "uisg maen coed" – which loosely means: stony wood by the water.

"But there is also reason for believing the word to be derived from 'Wealas' – meaning foreigners – a term applied by the Saxons to all not of their race," wrote Crossing. And he backs this argument by saying: "The older folk living on the moor used to speak of this oak grove as Welshman's Wood, and it seems not improbable that Wistman is merely a corruption of this."

The most commonly held theory about the source of the name comes from the dreaded Whisht Hounds that were (and are) said to roam Dartmoor. These Hounds of Hell are also known as Yell Hounds, Gabriel Hounds, Gabriel Ratchets, Gobble-ratches and so on, depending upon which hills you happen to be standing. Certainly, the Wist in Wistman's isn't a huge leap from Whisht.

And, believe me, go to Wistman's Wood alone late on a darkening December afternoon and I promise you will feel a touch closer to such things as ephemeral demon dogs.

No other wood in the region has quite such an atmosphere – no other forest can offer quite such a feeling of ancient menace… Which is why I, for one, love the place so much – it is magical and enthralling in a way that few other places can muster.