Cornwall 3- 12. The Eden Project

Tags

Cornwall, Eden Project, Infinity Blue, Madagascar, Mediterranean Biome, old coffee machine, Rainforest Biome, Vanilla

I was homeward bound on Saturday, 11th September, but could not let pass the opportunity to visit on the way this world-renowned project. I had a booking for 11.00. My satnav the evening before told me that I would need 90 minutes to get there, which surprised me somewhat, but I allowed two hours. As I left my BnB at 9.00 it was saying I would need 65 minutes – the difference between Friday evening and Saturday morning traffic I suppose. But thank goodness I had all that leeway. There were huge hold-ups on the A30, due I think to road closures elsewhere, with traffic being funnelled on to this road. In the event I arrived just 10 minutes before my ticket’s time.

It was quite a walk between my car park down to the entrance – but not so far that I qualified for the shuttle bus. Just one more car park up and …

I find I have 108 photos, and have found it incredibly difficult to make a selection. I have only managed to cut them down to 58 – sorry – and they give only a glimpse into what was to be seen.

Here’s the plan from my pre-ordered guide. I should like to have been able to sit down and study it in greater depth before going round, but things were well-labelled.

Basically, I wandered around the Outdoor Gardens and then the Crops, which I think is how it is intended you should, then visited first the Rainforest Biome, followed by the Mediterranean one (only about a third the area, but with a few more species), then went along the Avenue to the Core. I seem to have missed the Zigzag through Time, and I don’t think I did justice to the Invisible Worlds.

My photos are largely without commentary.

I think this next picture is my very favourite of the day.

This queue (note one person peeling off left)…

… was for this. Good fun!

There was a link corridor, with shops and café, to the …

About 15 minutes into the Rainforest Biome, there was a notice warning people who were finding it too hot to turn back, as it was another 30 minutes to the exit. (A one-way system was in operation with little byways roped off, presumably because of Covid.) The Mediterranean Biome was also hot, in a lovely dry Mediterranean way, but I was very pleased to find this almost unpatronised drinks bar near its exit. Time for a chilled elderflower cordial.

Frim time to time there was a swooshing sound from above. I had just days ago watched Chris Packham and Megan McCubbin on television on a zipline, and thought, ‘How I would love to do that!’. And here would have been my opportunity! If I had known in advance about the possibility here, I would definitely have looked into it. As it was, I picked up a leaflet when I left.

‘Infinity Blue’ and, to a lesser extent, ‘Seed’ were the two main attractions in the Core.

Perfect smoke (or rather vapour) rings every time. They represent Oxygen.

‘Seed’ was about twice my height.

‘Infinity Blue’ from an upper floor. In about a decade it may be lowered into the sea as a reef habitat for marine life. (It’s not crooked, my camera was.)

Up a lift, across a bridge, and it was back to the entrance/visitor centre/exit…

… for a coffee before setting off on the rest of my journey home. I was amused to see this old coffee making machine on display, sadly not in use.

How to reflect on eight such days? I was absolutely shattered for a while after my return, but so happy to have spent my time so fully. Cornwall is a such a beautiful place, with so much to explore and experience. I tried, and I think I succeeded, not to let an underlying fear of Covid spoil my enjoyment, though it was unnerving to see so many people, freed of legal obligation, appearing to believe that if they did not wear masks indoors the risk was only to themselves, not to others. But it was heartening also to see how many did wear masks, especially those serving, in whatever setting.

I have to go back. I have to make that helicopter trip. I have to use more those various guides to archology, geology, walks, built places to visit. My Eden Project ticket is valid for a year! (I could – perhaps – go on that zipline…) I’m already thinking that I may take another holiday in the county next June, perhaps based at Hayle this time.

Cornwall 3 – 10. Godolphin and Porthleven

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Bal maiden, Bickford-Smith Institute, Common Hawker, Godolphin, Godolphin House, Mary Lanyon, Mary Schofield, Porthleven, Robert Organ, South-west Coast path

Thursday, 9th September was to be the high point – literally and figuratively – of my time in Cornwall, fulfilling a lifetime ambition. Two months previously I had booked a helicopter flight to the island of St Mary’s, on the Scillies. As I checked over its arrangements on the Wednesday evening, I had had a shock, which I should have anticipated, given the weather. All helicopter flights that day had been cancelled, because of fog both at Penzance and on the Scilly Isles. I was also beginning to worry seriously about what I would do there once arrived, given the forecast of about 80% rain on St Mary’s for much of Thursday.

However, having also checked my right to a full refund, when I woke up on the day I found myself really hoping the company would cancel, given that weather forecast. It was also very misty in Penzance.

Dead-on 9.00 the company called me. They weren’t yet cancelling but were running huge delays, so [since I was booked on a day trip, not going over to stay] they were offering me the choice of rebooking, free of penalty, or receiving a full refund. I accepted the latter, obviously, and felt hugely relieved, my disappointment having already been overcome the evening before. I would have to fly in a helicopter for the first (and probably only) time in my life on some other occasion.

What to do instead? I could have occupied myself in my room, knitting, reading, listening to the radio, but they didn’t seem like ideal holiday pass-times. I decided to take a risk with the weather (not forecast to be quite so bad on the mainland) and to go to Godolphin (National Trust), to spend time indoors in the large house there. It didn’t need pre-booking.

The surface of the sea in the harbour was like a mirror as I passed, but sadly it was not possible to stop to take a photo.

It turned out to me much less house than I thought, so it was as well that the weather also turned out to be much better than forecast. At the exit of the car park was a notice board suggested various walks in the wider estate, so I decided to start out on the orange walk before making for the house and its grounds.

But I turned back when it started to drizzle, not least because I wasn’t really properly shod or dressed for a damp, muddy walk. (The drizzle soon stopped, fortunately.)

Checking in to the charging part of the property, I was given a ticket for the house for 1 o’clock, an hour off. Coffee (studying the plan – yes, I like plans and maps),

and a wander round the more formal grounds filled in the time nicely.

The door behind the colonnade I would take at the start of the tour

(If only I knew enough to photoshop out that turquoise coat.)

Notice by one of the shippons (cowsheds)

I knew I had been to Godolphin House in 1973, (though I could remember almost nothing of the visit), with some of my non-participant helper colleagues on the International Musicians Seminar, so I was somewhat surprised to learn from the welcoming guide that the Trust only took the house over in 2000. I checked out with her – yes, the previous owner, painter Mary Schofield, née Lanyon, did show people round sometimes. My memory also told me that the house was bigger when I visited – the Wikipedia article says that it was once much larger, but does not say when it was reduced.

The guide explained that the house was only open for visits like this when it was not let out as a holiday ‘cottage’, details here. Going round the house I was reminded by its style how some of us had rented my local NT ‘cottage’ Lytes Cary, for music-making holidays in 2013 and 2014.

Linenfold panels

A kitchen fit for a 21st century letting

When I came to this final room, called the King’s Room I believe, I thought how wonderful it would be for music-making with friends. It displayed large paintings by West Country painter, Robert Organ, a friend of John Schofield, (Mary’s son presumably).

30 minutes and the house was thoroughly ‘done’. The exit from the one-way system was into the King’s Garden, where I sat for a few minutes, just enjoying the quiet, and contemplating what to do next.

I returned to my car, and asked my satnav what attractions there were in the vicinity. ‘Helston Railway ‘ it replied. Super! Take me there, James, I commanded. After a few minutes it led me to a firmly closed gateway to what appeared to be a private property. I could not get an internet signal to find out more about the attraction. OK, thought I, I’ll go to Helston itself (car and I were several miles away) and find out more.

With a signal in the Lidl customer car park on the outskirts of the town, I found out that Thursday was one of the three days each week the volunteer-run railway was, um, running, and that I had in fact been very near to it at those gates.

But they were miles back, through narrow country lanes, and time was rolling on, so no way was I returning. I decided instead to go to the coast, to Porthleven just 2 miles away. It was heaving with people, but fortunately I found somewhere to park right by the harbour, allowed just 30 minutes. Given the crowds, I reckoned that was all I’d want.

These photos reveal neither the great crowds of people nor the touristy souvenir and other shops trying to tempt them, apparently successfully. I walked firstly along the left hand quay.

The inner harbour

And the outer. I don’t think the paddle boarders are in any danger. Not from the cannon anyway.

Returning along that quay, I waited a while to clear this view, over my right shoulder, of as many people as possible.

‘Bal Maidens’ were those women and girls who broke up the metal ores, after their menfolk had mined them.

When I walked along the right-hand quay I was not tempted to take pictures, as the crowds were really heavily gathered there, around the many tourist shops and cafés. The road rose sharply, and I took this looking back.

Past the last houses there was path off to the left, and I found myself once more on the South-West Coast Path. Indeed, technically, I had been on it all the time.

Perhaps it was as well that there was nowhere to sit, because it was time to turn back and recover my car from its 30 minutes’ permitted time.

Female Common hawker, I think

My final picture was a zoom in on this building, which I have since discovered is the Bickford-Smith Institute, which opened in 1884 as a gift from a former MP.

I confess to having been 10 minutes late back to my car, but that is how long it took to be served with an ice cream. As can be seen from the photos, the sun was out when I arrived, but it had gone by then, and as I drove back to Penzance, there was sea mist rolling inland.

So many possibilities for Friday, my final full day: including a walk in the Lizard area; further exploration of the Tin (= north Penwith) Coast; the Penlee Art Gallery; or a drive well north to Lanhydrock (to follow up Captain Thomas Agar-Robartes MP, of the memorial hall in Luxulyan).

Cornwall 3 – 7. Tremenheere Sculpture Gardens

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Dolphin Penzance, James Turrell, Michael Chaikin, Michael Johnson, Penny Saunders, Penzance, Penzance Harbour, Peter Randall-Page, Philip Rae Scott, Phoenix masted brig, Phoenix square rig, Richard Long, Shelia Williams, Tremenheere, Vong Phaphanit

The signpost I had noticed on my way to St Michael’s Mount, on Tuesday 7th September, was for the Tremenheere Sculpture Gardens. I spent a happy hour-plus wandering around. There were several sculptures to be seen even before reaching the hard-to-find reception kiosk.

This colourful bench was by the ticket shed, the dappled sunlight adding to the effect.

Shelia Williams, ‘Winter Heliotrope’

More Cornish large lushness

Michael Johnson, ‘Wall of Taps’

A dragonfly pretending it’s not there.

You had to walk right into this sculpture, an oval room open to the sky, with an ante-room. It would appear that it was inspired by the sculptor’s Quaker background. I took this sitting on the ledge.

James Turrell, RA, ‘Tewlwolow Kernow’, twilight in Cornwall. Here’s a blog someone wrote about it after a visit when the sky was blue.

View from near the furthest point of the gardens. St Michael’s Mount can be seen peering over the shoulder of the trees.

Richard Long RA, ‘Tremenheere Line’

Philip Rae Scott, ‘Crypto-Synthesis’

These towered over me.

Peter Randall-Page RA, ‘Slip of the Lip’. The whole is about 2 metres across.

Vong Phaphanit, ‘Field of Rods’

Having finished my tour, I bought a hot chocolate from the snacks kiosk. I sat on the base of Michael Chaikin’s ‘Tree of Life’ and was mesmerised by Penny Saunders’s ‘Restless Temple’. The longer I watched it, the more I realised that it was not mechanically driven, and that its angle of drunkenness was entirely dependent on the strength of the breeze.

I heard a buzzard mewling.

And realised there was a second.

My last stop was at Penzance Harbour. I had by now driven past it thrice, and did not want to let the week pass without exploring it on foot. Combined with a visit to a Post Office for some stamps to put on three postcards I had bought on St Michael’s Mount, this was time efficiently spent, I felt!

It was this that really attracted me to the harbour.

Sadly, it was not possible to get really close, as there was another boat in the way. Men were working very hard on, apparently, restoring and adapting her.

But I was able to take a photo of his rather worn panel.

In her present state she would not be fit to star in anything. I’d have loved to find out more from the workers, but they were – probably deliberately – not lifting their heads, and in any case they were quite far away. I have managed to find out that she left Charleston, Cornwall, around two years ago, headed for Liverpool, and that she arrived in Penzance, probably to be her permanent home, in February of this year. I wonder where Portsmouth fits in.

The Dolphin is a favoured eating place.

As I returned to my car, I noted that the very inner part of the harbour is now a swimming pool at high tide,

and loved the action of a devoted father pulling his children around in the boat.

Another full day, and a happy return to Chiverton House. The weather forecast was not so good for the next day…

Cornwall 3 – 6. St Michael’s Mount

Tags

Black-backed gull, Cornish language, Dolly Pentreath, Giles, Little egret, Marazion, St Aubyn family, St Michael's Mount

It was time to cross another causeway. After all, it was nearly twelve weeks since I had driven across the one to Lindisfarne. But this time it was to be on foot.

For the first time this week, the view to St Michael’s Mount was clear as I set off along the Western Promenade in Penzance for Marazion and the causeway to the castle on Tuesday, 7th September. Booking ahead was imperative; entry would be denied without a pre-booked ticket. The attraction is run jointly by the National Trust and the St Aubyn family, who still own much of the island.

You are told to arrive at the gate of the castle at the time of your ticket, and to allow 15 minutes beforehand to cross the causeway, whether on foot when the tide is low enough, or by ferry. I was pleased to have allowed even more time than that, since the car park fee took time to pay, at one of those horribly complicated machines that wants to know all about you.

At the castle gate I appeared to get special, expedited, treatment. Was this because I was a National Trust member? Anyway, I was soon on my way to the visitor centre.

Sadly, it would not be possible to visit the gardens, which had closed for the season just a few days beforehand.

Then over to the wall for some views,

Black-backed gull

before starting the long, steep and difficult cobbled and/or stony upward trek to the ‘top’.

Nearly there

There were people at the ‘top’.

There were lots of people at the ‘top’, which proved not to be the top. It was at least 20 minutes before I was able to enter the castle, the queue was so long.

I amused myself looking for dolphins (unsuccessfully)

Nearly there

I also filled in the time reading about the castle on an app I had downloaded thanks to a QR code at the bottom of the steps. Annoyingly, that app is no longer on my phone. I suppose it’s possible that it could have auto-deleted as I left the premises, but, much more likely, I deleted it myself thinking I would have no more need of it, forgetting that it would be really useful in identifying my photos. My memory serves me poorly…

I do recall that this particularly appealed to me in a whole roomful of delightful drawings by Lady Catherine Someone.

“Pugilist”

The route led to an upper terrace

They’re still queuing down there on the lower terrace.

Despite the number of people there, the 15th century chapel, where a service is held every Sunday in the summer months, brought a sense of palpable calm.

I recall that the guide described this blue room as Strawberry Hill Gothic.

I could have spent a very long time in the maps room, and took photos of several of the exhibits. I limit myself to sharing just one of them.

In the same room was this cork sculpture of the island.

This is a portrait of Dolly Pentreath, said to have been the last person to have spoken only Cornish. (Though the next day was to moderate that claim in my mind – see two posts on in due course.)

At last there were no other people around for a short while, as I looked back along a corridor of pictures.

A room described as the Museum was closed for renovations, and the Garrison Room did not interest me too much. But a few more pictures towards the exit did. For colour and style…

… and for nostalgia: Giles, Vera and Gran!

View from exit of castle

When was looking, without success, to see if I could find any more detail about the castle’s contents on the internet, I came across this walk-through film lasting about 15 minutes.

The walk down the uneven path could have daunted me, but this time I had my walking pole with me. Without it, I would have found the descent a miserable experience. Once down, I was reminded that the ferry, which I was planning to take back for the sake of having a boat ride, would not be running until well after 2.00 pm, given the state of the tide.

Not really hungry after the very copious breakfast served by Alan and prepared by the unseen Sally at Chiverton House, (despite my taking neither sausage not bacon, nor any of the carbohydrate-packed offerings) I went to sit on the big lawn for a few minutes.

I usually try to avoid taking photos with people in them unless they are part of the story, but I think they add something here – others may disagree.

I was delighted to see a little egret on the near shore and zoomed in on it.

Having patronised the Island Shop, I then walked back to the car park. I saw no point in hanging on for more than hour just for the sake of having a short boat ride. The cobbles were not kind to sore feet,

so I cut off leftwards to take the hypotenuse back to my car. Sadly the ripple marks on the wet sand were almost as uncomfortable as the cobbles.

On the way to Marazion, I had noticed a signpost to an attraction I had added the evening before to my ever-increasing list of ‘Things I’d like to do’…

Cornwall 3 – 5. Trengwainton Garden

Tags

Bolitho, National Trust, slave trade, Trengwainton

Trengwainton Garden (National Trust) was my destination for the Monday afternoon, despite my very tired legs and feet. My plan was to have a gentle stroll around the gardens and then have a drink in the tea-room at the end. Sadly, the last part was thwarted, as the tea-room shut at 3.00 (staff shortage?). But the tea-tray in my room at my BnB was only minutes away.

The entry was at G below, right. I first explored the walled gardens, then went along the main avenue (gently ascending but not gently enough!) to the lawns by the main house, and returned via the woodland area with the stream running though it.

Proof of acid soil or what!

As everywhere I went in Cornwall, my impression was ‘lush and large’ with a dash of exoticism.

I wondered what this huge tree with red flowers could possibly be.

A close up with my camera revealed that it was a fuchsia.

And reaching its origins, I saw that the fuchsia was supported by a sequoia.

The house itself is still owned and lived in by the family that bought it in the 19th century, and a discreet rope keeps the public at bay.

I had been told at reception that the views from up here were ‘spectacular’. She didn’t know where I had been in the morning!

An original orientation table

What a shame!

There were several benches up by the lawns, but it took a while for one to be vacated, and how my legs were longing to sit down. Eventually I was able to rest on this bench. I’ve been unable to find anything about the coat of arms – but I have a plea out to the Fleur-de-Lys History Society by social media!

I was intrigued by the apparently perfect square shape of the hole in this trunk.

It turned out not to be a perfect square, and to contain some fascinating fungi.

Back through the tree ferns of the woodland area. I was reminded of my trip with a friend to Tasmania.

One final picture near the entrance.

When eating my huge sandwich at Perranuthnoe at lunchtime, I had been sitting on a bench, with a local woman at the other end. When I told her of my plan for the afternoon, she told me I would learn of the slavery connections of Trengwainton. I didn’t, but, local paper style, it is here. A more sober account, part of a very long description of the property, is by Historic England.

The coolness of the mainly shady gardens of Trengwainton had been most welcome, on the hottest day of my stay in Cornwall. The rest of the week remained largely dry, during the day, but at times was very misty.

I slept well that night.

Cornwall 3 – 4. Prussia Cove and Cudden Point

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Bessy's Cove, Cornwall, Cudden Point, Hilary Tunstall-Behrens, International Musicians Seminar, John Amis, Kenneggy Sands, Natalie Wheen, Perranuthnoe, Porth-en-Alls, Prussia Cove, red admiral, Sandor Vegh, St Michael's Mount

This was my choice for Monday morning, 9th September, the third day of my holiday in the far tip of Cornwall. I thought the walk would probably stretch me, but I had a reason for choosing it, from my other ‘walks’ book, by the Ordnance Survey.

It started at Perranuthnoe, the sun having cleared the heavy sea mist which prevailed just 20 minutes earlier as I had set off eastwards from Penzance.

The remains of the sea mist

For about half of its distance the walk would be through fields and lanes.

Looking back towards Perranuthnoe once I’d made the necessary height.

Interesting stiles in Cornwall

The walk started at the north-west tip and went clockwise.

Interesting stiles in Cornwall. This one’s almost level, despite appearances.

After half an hour I realised that I had failed to take my walking pole from my boot. Too far in now, I would have to manage without, something I was not looking forward to for the second part of the walk, along the South-west Coastal Path, up and down, up and down, cliff and cove, where my pole would, I thought, make all the difference to the ‘down’ bits.

I was most surprised to see this beehive to my right at one point, though further from me than this photo makes it appear.

Just metres further on I saw this shack, clearly party of a homestead. For the next couple of hundred metres, well spaced out, there were more dwellings, rather less ‘shacky’.

The last section of the inland part of the walk went north-south, along a path with, to me, a vertiginous descent, and very slippery because of little pebbles and soil. How I missed my walking pole to steady me, balance not being my strongest point. I grew increasingly fearful of the coastal path to come. At points down this steep path I used the method toddlers use when going down stairs…

As I neared the end of this descent, I could see Porth-en-Alls House, which took me back to 1973, though I had not seen it from this angle before. But I did recall seeing from the House the waves crashing onto the rocks of the promontory.

The House can just be seen centre, slightly right.

Kenneggy Sands. At this point I was to turn right onto the South-west Coastal Path.

Where inland met coast was my reason for wanting to do this walk. When I was in this tip of Cornwall for the only previous time, in 1973, I had stayed for three weeks at Prussia Cove, near Marazion. This was, and still is, an estate of holiday cottages on the coast, and mine was one of the Coastguard Cottages, which I had all to myself.  I was there, on unpaid leave from H M Treasury,  as secretary to the International Musicians Seminar, founded just the year earlier by the celebrated Hungarian violinist, Sandor Vegh, and by Hilary Tunstall-Behrens. It still runs, and still takes place at Prussia Cove, based on Porth-en-Alls House. (I had no knowledge of H T-B’s exploits when I was introduced to him on taking the job!)

Two longer term consequences of my involvement in this event arose for me personally. The broadcaster and music critic John Amis, and radio presenter Natalie Wheen, visited for a couple days on behalf of the BBC.  I found myself singing 4-part music with them once or twice. We remained in touch and had few further sessions, this time with five singers, back in London, once in my flat in Kentish Town.

The other consequence arose because it was my task, on the eve of Sandor Vegh’s arrival, to visit the cottage where he was to stay to check on, (or was it to light?), a fire to warm the place. (I think this was April.) The ‘cottages’ on the estate are well spread out, and a black and white cat was hanging around one of them. I can never resist talking to a cat, and I was a little embarrassed that she followed me all the way back to my own cottage. Free to leave if she wanted, she adopted me, and my reward was to find a dead mouse by my slippers nearly every morning when I woke up. I was informed, by the estate owners I think, that they thought she had been left behind by some previous holiday makers. Missy, as she became, virtually jumped in my car as I left Prussia Cove to return to London, my lovely companion for the next 12 years.

After 15 minutes or so, I arrived at Porth-en-Alls House. From that angle it did not seem at all familiar to me. But I was delighted to hear string chamber music emerging from this building, stopping and starting as if learning/rehearsing was going on – for these concerts perhaps?

I vaguely remembered this parking area, the upper part of which is on the SW Coastal Path. Perhaps the reason I recall it, unlike the House, is is that my car wouldn’t start and had to call the AA. Embarrassingly it turned out that I had just run out of petrol, (half of their call-outs they told me). Living in London, and a new driver, I had not got used to doing long journeys and and failed to check the fuel gauge sufficiently!

I snuck this photo, in which a violinist can just been seen. One of these presumably.

I failed to see the Coastguard Cottages, and I had neither the energy nor the time to go searching for them. It was very hot, not a cloud in the sky all day.

Bessy’s Cove, one of the four making up Prussia Cove, and the nearest to the House

Looking back at Bessy’s Cove. I recall singing three-part madrigals with two other women, sitting on one of the rocks.

My dread of the Coastal Path was unnecessary. That descent to the coastal path had been much worse than anything I encountered from then on. That said, this climb was steep!

Reached the top, I sat down on the narrow path, rested and took this photo. Fortunately no-one wanted to get by in either direction while I was there.

I arrived at Cudden Point.

This was the view as I passed over it, with Perranuthnoe in the far distance.

Brief exchanges with people coming in the other direction, or just resting, added to the pleasure of the walk. Footsore and very weary, I could see Perranurthnoe was getting nearer,

and then as I rounded every headland, it came nearer and nearer (as it were).

St Michael’s Mount can be seen in the mist. Nearby, blackberries sustained me.

Three hours and 15 minutes after setting off, I arrived at the Beach Cabin Café, where a cheese sandwich and some apple juice refreshed. And I hadn’t even had to queue, despite the staff shortages in hospitality venues announced everywhere.

My ‘sandwich’ half eaten (it was a doorstep with copious filling, salad and crisps, much more than I wanted) I walked the few paces down to the beach to see what was attracting those going by, before climbing wearily back to my car.

It was only 2 pm, so the day’s entertainment could not end there.

Cornwall 3 – 3. Levant Tin Mine and Beam Engine

Tags

Bal maiden, Beaker people, Geevor mine, Levant Beam engine, Levant mine, Miners' dry, National Trust, South-west Coast path

The National Trust tour I had pre-booked for the Sunday afternoon of my Cornwall holiday was of the Levant Mine and Beam Engine, in the St Just area on the north coast of the Penwith peninsula. As requested by the Trust, because of the earlier start of the Tour of Britain, I had allowed plenty of time to get there, and, also at their request, parked not at the Mine itself but a 20-minute walk away at Geevor mine, open to the public, but not NT property.

It was a very grey day, with rain threatening all the time.

As I had thought, the Tour of Britain had no impact on access, having passed surely three hours previously – but thank you, National Trust, for having alerted me to it! I had therefore, even allowing for the walk to Levant, some 30 minutes in hand, so I wandered around the desolate landscape for some while.

I was surprised to see how little nature had taken over from the abandoned terrain, but later learned that Geevor had only closed in 1991.

My first, but not last, sight of the South West Coast Path, here going north-east. But I had to go south-west and make my way to the Levant Mine.

The name of this valley is Trewellard Bottoms.

Arsenic processing buildings

L to R: Compressor house chimney, Stamps chimney and Arsenic chimney

Vince was our volunteer guide, a geology teacher of both aspiring mining engineers and of A level students. (In reply to a question from me, he said that the future’s in lithium, indium and gallium apparently, although the first two are running out, especially indium, essential for our touch screens to work, and that will be all mined out by 2030.) From his style, I would guess that Vince is an excellent and passionate teacher.

He gave us full and fascinating explanations, and was also a mine (sorry) of historical anecdotes. I was very conscious that I would manage to hang on to very little of what he said, which is perhaps fortunate, since this post would be very long if so. But I do recall that he said that mining in this area had started some 4500 years ago. Beaker people from Switzerland had brought the skills here, but it was not known how they had acquired those skills. Here is a full account of mining in Cornwall and Devon.

The only piece of 20th century equipment in the mine, which closed in 1930.

So much more protective than a modern geologist’s plastic helmet, this miner’s hat is made of felt and rendered rock solid with resin.

Vince explained about lodes and the way their valuable constituents separated themselves out, into tin, copper, arsenic and silver, and how they went for miles out to sea.

The turquoise reveals the continued presence of copper.

The picture shows a pony being lowered into the mine. It would then live there for four years before being brought up, gradually accustomed to the light, and put out to pasture. Apparently the conditions the law insisted on for ponies were much better than those it prescribed for miners.

The tools used by bal maidens to break up the rocks. Their conditions were even worse than those of the men down the mines.

After a while, Vince took us to the beam engine, and handed us over to Peter, the engineer, who explained how steam was raised and worked the engine. For various reasons I was able to follow little, and just concentrated on the sheer beauty of the thing, and loved seeing it set in motion.

Entrance to the Beam engine house

The beam from the top.

What the wheel turned. I was just outside in time to see them in action.

Looking back on the various buildings

Ahead was the Miners’ Dry. a huge room where the miners dried out at the end of a shift. But before that, Vince explained why some parts of the land were so dangerous.

When a shaft was closed, it was just covered with wooden boards which were grown over and just rotted in due course. Tread on one of those areas and…

In its heyday this was the Miners’ Dry:

Just the floor remains now, with the Compressor house chimney beyond.

Next and last we descended to the start of the the man engine shaft. The man engine was an ingenious but very dangerous mechanism for lowering the miners to their working areas. It broke in 1919, killing 31 people, after which mining the lowest levels was abandoned.

Botallack mine (also National Trust, though not part of this tour) was just a kilometre further down the coast. I was shattered, and had a 15-minute climb back to the car park ahead of me, so I decided I would not join a couple who were planning to visit, but returned to my car tired, but very happy, at the end of two excellent days.

I had planned nothing yet for the Monday, but had lots of competing ideas.

Cornwall 3 – 1. Luxulyan

Tags

Agar-Robartes, Carmears, Cornwall, granite, leat, Luxulyan, red admiral, speckled wood, Treffry Viaduct

The last (and indeed only) time I had been in Penwith, the very tip of Cornwall, including Lands End, was way back in 1973. For some years now, I had harboured a desire to go back. I made it as far as north Cornwall in 2013, on a geology field trip, and for some years had been gathering together material on furthest Cornwall. So when, last January, I abandoned all thought of a wildlife holiday on the Continent, I booked a week in a BnB in Penzance. Already availability was low; I think many other retirees had the same thought as I had – grab the first week the schools are back.

On my journey down, the augurs were good. Just minutes from home, as I took Bella to the cattery (Tilly was left well provided for at home, as she is not vaccinated) as I drove through Meare there was a young woman walking along the pavement with a large owl on her arm! I was not quick enough to stop and take a photo, sadly.

Traffic down the M5 was heavy but rarely slow, and I arrived at my planned lunch and walk stop just before midday. One of the many bits of paper I had gathered was about the beautiful and interesting Luxulyan valley, in North Cornwall. As I pulled into the village, I had needed to find just two things: a loo and coffee, preferably in that order.

No difficulty in finding either. For the second, just yards/metres away from where I was able to park my car, was a Memorial Hall,

where a ‘Plant swap and butties’ event going on. (I was later to find out more about Captain Agar-Robartes, a local MP, who had been killed in 1915 while trying to rescue a wounded comrade, during WWI.) There they were very happy to serve me a coffee for £1.

I didn’t stay inside to drink it. The room was small and noisy, and a dozen apparent locals were sitting around, not a mask between them, and one of them was holding forth on political matters in an extremely loud voice. I sat outside on this rather beautiful bench, which took me straight back to my week in Huissen, singing with an international choir in commemoration of the Battle of Arnhem.

Three people passed by in the road, and two of them said hello. Friendly place, Luxulyan.

From my reading, I knew there was a beautiful walk along the valley, and was delighted to find a description of one in a ‘Short walks in Cornwall’ booklet I had just bought.

I set off,

and soon came across this well,

which pleased me for itself, and because it confirmed I had taken the right direction from the church.

The walk soon left the country lanes for footpaths through the woods, alongside leats for much of the time..

In due course I arrived at the Treffry Viaduct, wondering what it (had) carried. I now know that ‘firstly it carried the mine trucks over the valley and secondly it carried the water used to power the water wheel at Carmears. ‘

Overall, I don’t think I have ever said ‘Wow’ so frequently during a walk, not just for the viaduct, but also for the huge blocks of granite and the wonderful views…..

I had said to myself that I would stop to eat my sandwich at the first available place to sit after 1 pm. At 12.58 this came into view, the first bench I had seen (and indeed the last on this walk). I decided not to obsess over two 2 minutes!

The view as I ate.

Whwn I set off again, there were several temptations to wander off either side of the path but I resisted them.

The gap to the left where the 9-metre diameter water wheel had been was unmistakeable. It wound wagons up the incline

From here the water ran to drive it, a tiny trickle today. The Carmears incline was to haul crushed minerals up the slope.

Looking back at the furthest point, (I’ve come from the left and must return on the right) except that the instruction was to continue for a short while down to a bridge over the incline.

This was the turning point of the walk.

During my week in Cornwall I saw many, many butterflies, and perhaps 80 per cent of them were red admirals.

There were several ruined buildings on my route.

But this is the top of the wheel machinery.

Not only were stone sleeper supports visible all along the incline, but also the occasional rail support

and even rail.

But not every butterfly I saw was a Red admiral. Here a Speckled wood.

The walk continues to follow the track, as far as the viaduct.

‘At the end of the viaduct turn left and go up some wooden steps to enter a field.’

And then it all went wrong. I could find no wooden post at which to turn right. But I did find a stile and hoped it was the right one. It was, later confirmed. But I should not have been able to take these next three photos.

When I had what I reckoned from the map was about 20 minutes to go to get back to the church, I realised that something was wrong:  no longer did the terrain fit the description. I tried take a common sense approach, knowing that my car was north, (the sun was out) but it proved impossible. Long story short, it was with mixed feelings that I found myself back at the end of the viaduct, pleased to know exactly where I was, but unsure how not to make the same error again. I had literally gone round in a circle. I climbed the steps again, nervous of how to escape the vicious circle!

I took the stile again, and decided to ignore what I had previously taken to be a junction at which I was to turn right, and – phew – this worked. A much more obvious junction soon appeared, and all went smoothly from then on. I was very pleased to see this waymark, indicating, as I hoped, the church from which I had started off.

Interesting stiles in Cornwall…

The ice cream I bought at the village shop was well-deserved, I thought.

The M and S food hall on the outskirts of Hayle, 50 minutes away, was my next planned stop, and from there it was only 20 minutes or so to my BnB. Or should have been. Traffic was incredibly slow through the town, through which I was forced to take an unexpected diversion, for reasons which will become clear in my next post. I went out for a very short wander on foot around 7.30, but likewise the theme of that is more appropriate to my next post…

Cousins’ meet-up in Salisbury

Tags

Harnham, John Halle, Salisbury, Salisbury Cathedral, Salisbury cinema, Salisbury Guildhall

Several months ago, my cousin Geoff, who lives in the States with his American wife, Nicole, and their three children, booked flights for the pair of them and their youngest, Sophie, to visit the UK. They got nail-bitingly close to not being able to come, (their flights were refundable) but just a few days earlier, the UK government had lifted the requirement that double-vaccinated people must go into 10 days’ quarantine. We all met, including Geoff’s mum, Barbara, in Salisbury on Monday, 9th August.

In fact we met up at the Wilton Park and Ride, and took the bus into the centre of the city. It was the first time I had been on public transport for a very long time. (Thank you, Somerset County Council, for rushing my new bus pass to me!) It was pleasing to see that nearly everyone on the bus was wearing a face covering.

Not knowing Salisbury well, I was not sure where we were when we got off the bus, and in our efforts to orientate ourselves we came across a pub, the George and Dragon, with an outdoors seating area, where we took first coffee and then some lunch.

Sophie, me, Nicole, B(arbara), Geoff

Having orientated ourselves, we then set off on a walk I had printed from somewhere on the internet some years back but never done. It started in the Market Place, at the Guildhall, which houses some services of the Salisbury City Council (strictly a parish council, the lowest rung of local government, Wiltshire Council being the unitary authority for the area). I failed to get a photo of the outside of the Guildhall.

Part of the Market Place

Some rooms in the Guildhall are open for visits, in addition to being available to hire for events.

The Banqueting Hall

The Oak Court

The Grand Jury Room

Looking down on the Foyer

In the foyer. Was this ever used as a fireplace? We couldn’t see where a chimney might have gone.

In the Crown Court.

The giant basting spoon above was made for the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria in 1897. Description of the artefacts in the Guildhall is here.

We walked on. The Haunch of Venison is said to be haunted by a resident ghost, the Grey Lady. The Poultry Cross is is the last remaining element of the market established in 1227. There were crosses for several trades and and goods.

The black and white building is the hall of a 15th century wool merchant called John Halle.

Why is there a camera in a 15th century hall? Because the building is now a cinema!

Up the pedestrianised High Street and to the North Gate to Salisbury Cathedral. Here Nicole and Sophie left us, and Nicole was able to render her phone useable in the UK.

We didn’t go into the Cathedral, but walked round the Cloister. (My visit in July 2017 is recorded here.)

The walk then took us to more rural areas, to the adjacent village of Harnham

One of the UK’s many Rivers Avon.

At one point there was a ten-minute walk along a busy road, where to add insult to injury it started raining. Thank goodness we had brollies with us.

In due course we were able to turn off the main road, and arrived at the Old Mill, from which we walked across the Water Meadows on the Town Path. It was still raining.

Geoff in yellow and Barbara under large umbrella.

From thence it was a short walk, brollies lowered, across the Elizabeth Gardens to Crane Street, and into the town centre again.

I’ve not been able to discover what this rather lovely building was, but it may now be the offices of a building consultancy. Later, a friend living in Salisbury tells me:  The last photo is of Church House, Crane Street. Built around 1455, in 1634 it became the City Workhouse until 1881 when it was bought by the Diocese of Salisbury as their HQ – which it still is. Very fine timbered medieval hall – complete with working Parliament Clock of 1797 (so-called because Wm. Pitt imposed a tax of 5/- pa on clocks, so communal clocks multiplied but law rescinded after nine months! Then as now, politicians do daft things!)

We three returned to the Market Place where in due course met with the two, partaking variously of tea and cake before taking the Park and Ride bus back to our cars.

A lovely day.

A musical week

Tags

Beauchamp course, Cerney HOuse Gardens, Covid, early music, Gloucester Royal Hospital, Gloucestershire Academy of Music, Rendcomb College, Southwest Ambulance Service

Or six nights, five days, anyway. I had done the ‘Beauchamp’ early music course in 2001, when it was based at a place called Beauchamp House, in Churcham in Gloucestershire. Most people camped, and a few of us, including me, living in France at the time, stayed in B’n’Bs.

The scale of things being too large for me on the whole, I had not done that course again, but this year I just felt I wanted to get together with lots of fellow amateur singers and players to make music for a few days under the aegis of some known and trusted tutors. The course had not been held at Beauchamp House for many years and had known several different homes since. It is run by the Gloucestershire Academy of Music, and this year was being held at the independent school, Rendcomb College, near Cirencester, for the first time. It was amazing that the course took place at all this year, and all precautions were taken to ensure a Covid-safe environment, including all participants having to take a negative-outcome lateral flow test within 48 hours before arrival. In the event two people were ‘pinged’ during the course of the week and went straight home.

I arrived on the Sunday with an hour or so to spare before dinner, and walked round (just) part of the grounds.

The Music and Art block, not that we used it, remaining in the Main Building for all our sessions

The Main Building

The timetable was that all 70 participants, plus the four tutors, were all together working on one piece in the evenings, the first session of the day was in instrumental specialities (I was with 30-odd singers), and pre-lunch and post-tea sessions were in changing mixed groups, with the post-lunch period being free.

The view from the terrace as we finished our first evening session, on the Sunday

During Monday’s free time, I took up the suggestion of the very able organisers and visited Cerney House Gardens, just two miles down the road. I took lots of photos of course, and these will be the subject of my next-but-one post.

On Tuesday evening, I was taken to Emergency at Gloucester Royal Hospital, in an ambulance for the first time in my life. I have written that up, and that will be the subject of my next post. (Teaser: it was a mental, not a physical problem.) Here is a photo I took in the ambulance, which will show you that by that time I was sufficiently well to be sitting up, not lying on the ambulance’s gurney, and aware enough to think of taking a photo with my phone. This is Shaun. He has just done a lateral flow test on me. Phil was driving.

I missed breakfast on Wednesday morning. It was not to be served until 8.00 at the hospital (very civilised compared with what I have experienced in the past), and I was in a taxi back to the course at that time. Having had very little sleep overnight in Emergency at the hospital, and being very scruffy indeed, I did not feel up to creeping in for a late breakfast at Rendcomb. I skipped the first music session, and was found a banana, a chocolate bar and some cake to fortify me at 11.15, at the end of the coffee break. From then on I took full part in all the sessions, bar that of Wednesday evening which I decided to devote to R and R. In the afternoon’s free session, Jill D invited me to join a really excellent group of three recorder players and continuo instruments to sing the mezzo part in a lovely piece by Bach. The players sounded gorgeous. I think I acquitted myself reasonably well, but there were some complicated harmonic changes, and I was only working from a part, not a score, so would have done better with a little work on it beforehand. I really enjoyed the brief interlude though.

I remembered to get my camera out of my bag a few more times, but mostly forgot.

David Allinson looks pleased enough to see me at the Wednesday afternoon session.

David Hatcher takes a ‘small’ group in the Main Hall on the Thursday.

Coffee break

On Thursday afternoon I got a group of four viols and two voices together to do six-part music. Sadly it did not work quite as well as the previous afternoon’s free music-making, not least because I was not on particularly good singing form.

Not bad for a school dining hall, eh?

My last photo shows us nearly ready for the final session, on Friday evening. Most of the 70 plus participants can be seen in the picture, but sadly the huge variety of modern copies of renaissance instruments cannot. Hats and coats are because (Covid-safe) ventilation through the huge doors in the four corners of the room meant that it was blowing a chilly gale for most of us – August! – except for those in the large bay of the window.

One way and another I was shattered by Saturday. My aim to make good music with lots of other amateur musicians had been fulfilled – but there were elements I could have done without!

[Works I was involved in were by: Aliseda, Anon, Byrd, Croce, A Gabrieli, Guerrero, Hildegard, Isaac, Padovano, Palestrina, Praetorius, and Victoria (lots). The other tutors were Sue Addison and Julia Bishop.]