It’s a terrible thing to realise you have no imagination. Last year I sailed across the Atlantic on a freighter and at no point on the voyage did I think, “Hmm, one of those containers would make a great place to stay.” Yet here we were, a friend and I, planning what to cook for dinner while sitting in what may be the country’s best-appointed shipping container.

Set on the sheltered shore of a flooded china clay quarry on Cornwall’s Bodmin Moor, the accommodation even boasts its own little private range of hills for guests to climb, formed by spoil heaps that nature has spent over 70 years reclaiming.

“We’re well over 300 metres above sea level,” said Rupert, who grew up on this land. He and his wife Frances opened The Lake last October, inspired by years of camping here themselves in a much more basic container. The altitude was something to which we could testify, having just cycled up from Bodmin Parkway station, five-odd miles away. Indeed, it proved too much for my companion’s bike, but Rupert kindly raced out and, after much surgery, succeeded in resuscitating it. As we continued, the road and civilisation petered out before a long track took us to the lake through the former Glynn Valley China Clay Works, its buildings decaying picturesquely.

Rupert told us that a boatbuilder friend of his had fitted the container out, and with its smart wooden cladding and imaginatively used space, it has a nautical air. The well-equipped kitchen has a full-size gas cooker, and the wood-burning stove was large enough to warm the place up in a trice later in the evening. A small dining table was laden with complimentary foodstuffs and a bottle of wine, while a double bed afforded a lovely lazy morning view of the sun burning the mist off the lake, revealing scores of sand martins swooping joyfully about. A loo and hot shower are tucked away around the back.

The container is entirely off-grid: its solar panels recharged those gadgets we should have left at home anyway and powered a host of bright LED lights. Only our fridge owed anything to steampunk – it consisted of a shopping basket suspended in the shallow waters off the jetty, and did its job admirably.

But the best thing about the container is that the side facing the lake is almost all window. It not only made us feel a part of the scenery but also meant we could enjoy the sight of dozens of moorland ponies coming down for a drink. Behind them, above the fields, poked the distant summit of Brown Willy, the highest point in the county (420 metres). The Bodmin AONB has recently applied for Dark Sky Park status and at night we were duly treated to thousands of stars.

By day, keen to explore the moor, we took a picnic and bagged various tors, before halting for a drink in the village of Blisland’s eponymous inn. Its half-dozen extremely local draught ales are pitched at prices last seen in the 1990s and served by a landlady who showered us with “my lovelies” and “my angels”.

On arriving home we made the most of the late afternoon sun by taking out the rowing boat that comes at a small extra charge. Mid-voyage, my companion dived off – a brave move given that the 25 metres of water below us was still far from warm in late spring. I would have joined her, of course, but someone had to row the boat back.

The next morning we swapped one repurposed pit for another, heading out to Adrenalin Quarry in nearby Menheniot. We gleefully zipwired, learned how to throw axes (a useful skill come the zombie apocalypse) and were hurled to our certain deaths on a giant swing (rides from £12.50) – or at least that’s what you might imagine if you saw my expression as we were launched into the abyss.

It was a far cry from a stay during which we had largely been content simply to sit and watch the light changing on the lake and listen to the birdsong, revelling in the wonderful sense of isolation. It’s a state of affairs that looks set to last. “We’ll only ever have one container down here,” Rupert told us. “You don’t want people peering at you from across the water.”

• Accommodation was provided by The Lake, Maidenwell, Cardinham (sleeps two from £100 a night, two night minimum, week £700, 01579 321263, coolcamping.co.uk). Rail tickets were supplied by Great Western Railway. Singles from London Paddington to Bodmin Parkway from £28.50

Ask a local

Caroline Daunt, from firewood and land management firm Moor Heat

Food and drink

The pretty village of St Neot (five miles) has a delightful village pub, the London Inn which serves fine pub food and many traditional Cornish ales in a cosy atmosphere. The 15th-century St Tudy Inn at St Tudy (8.5 miles) serves a seasonal menu of Cornish produce and locally caught fish.

Walking and cycling

My favourite Bodmin Moor walk is the Two Valleys, a circular route around St Neot taking in the beautiful river Fowey, Berry Down and ancient woodlands. The view from the top of Berry Down is wonderful and to sit among the remains of the ancient huts on the south side of the downs listening to birdsong is magical. Cardinham Woods (4.5 miles) is a lovely mixed woodland with waymarked trails taking walkers and cyclists deep into the woods. Woods Cafe, near the car park, provides sustenance from breakfast to tea time.

Gardens

En route to either Cardinham Woods or the National Trust’s Lanhydrock House, you’ll pass Pinsla Garden which is charming for a wander around, a cup of coffee and to buy plants.

• This article was amended on 13 July 2016 to add photographer credits to two images.