Tucked into the rolling green folds of Devon’s Dartmoor countryside lies Nymetwood Treehouses, a family-run gem that feels like a hidden secret among oaks, meadows, and orchard glades. On 20 acres of woodland alive with birdsong and rustling leaves, this retreat offers two handcrafted treehouses — Blackcap and Starling — each marrying rustic poetry with Scandinavian-inspired luxury.
These treehouses took over two years to build, crafted by local artisan Emmanuel Hendry using local, sustainable materials. They don’t dominate the landscape — they grow in it. Blackcap sits upon a hilltop, offering sweeping views over meadows and woodland. Starling is more intimate, nestled within forest whispers. Both are elevated, each with a mezzanine super king bed, a wood-burning stove for crisp nights, and a generous deck. There, you’ll find a copper bath so perfectly placed that it invites lingering: soak under stars, listen to wind, feel time slow.
Inside, the treehouses don’t skimp on comforts. Kitchens are fully equipped. Shower rooms are modern and fresh. But those are just frames. The real allure is stepping out onto that deck each morning, cup in hand, watching light drift across tree trunks. The living rooms feel open, honest, wood-warmed, with soft shadows and forest moods. There’s no Wi-Fi — yes, they choose that — so phones fade. You’re left with breath and leaf and quiet.
Despite its secluded feel, Nymetwood puts Devon and Cornwall at your doorstep. Dartmoor beckons with its ancient tors, heaths, and hidden trails. Haytor's granite outcrops call adventure. Beaches like Woolacombe stretch their sands for surf or stroll. Historic echoes at Castle Drogo or Tintagel Castle linger nearby. And when you crave real local fare, you can wander into neighboring villages where pubs like The Duck and Tom Cobley Tavern serve honest Devon ales and plates that make you feel rooted.
I’ll admit: I feared treehouses might feel kitschy. But here, the design feels steady. It feels earned. The materials, the layout, the view orientations — they all whisper intention. At dusk, shadows move slowly; leaves flutter and call. Guests often linger on terraces long after dinner, reluctant to step indoors.
To stay isn’t cheap. These treehouses are a luxury experience in a remote setting. But you’re not paying just for wood and deck. You’re paying for silence, forest breath, light that shifts, and the rare permission to exist outside urgency. The absence of Wi-Fi is part of the gift: you lean toward notice. Toward leaf, wind, companion, self.
If you come for one night, you’ll taste possibility. If you stay a few, you’ll begin to feel the forest’s rhythm weave through your pulse. And when you leave, you carry less noise — a little more sky.
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