Cornwall 2022 – 1. The Lost Gardens of Heligan

Tags

Burma Rope Bridge, chicken tractor, Cornwall, Eden Project, honey dipper, house sparrow, insect hotel, John Nelson, Lost Gardens of Heligan, rhododendron, sunflowers, swallow, Tim Smit

I’d so enjoyed my holiday in Cornwall in June 2021, and found there was so much more I wanted to see and do there, that I decided to book for this year, though in more comfortable accommodation, (the subject of my next post). I drove south-west on Monday 27th June, and, having now reviewed the more than 1000 photos I returned with, can see that I have about 11 blog posts to prepare, for a week’s holiday.

Last year I had extraordinary thoughts of returning to the Eden Project on my way, specifically to have a go on the zip wire there. But in the event I replaced that idea, for a variety of reasons, only one of them not being sure whether I really dared, with a visit to The Lost Gardens of Heligan. So, having dropped Bella off at her cattery (unvaccinated Tilly remaining at home) I arrived at the venue in good time for a light lunch during which I perused the guide.

(What’s the opposite of foreshortening? This picture makes the guide look longer than it is.)

Heligan has a history going back to the thirteenth century, but was ‘lost’ and increasingly overgrown between 1914 and 1990. Its timeline is here.

This view greets you as you step into the gardens.

I then took Beacon Path. As I often do in discovering a new place, I started by staking out the perimeter, clockwise. During my week in Cornwall, I saw many such tangles of rhododendron trunks.

After a while I found myself in an area called ‘New Zealand’.

The guide explains that the so called ‘Flower Garden’ is also about fruit and vegetables.

This is possibly my favourite photo of the visit,

or perhaps this.

The Sundial Garden

I started to explore more widely than just the main gardens, and came across this wood turner, who was making honey dippers, near Home Farm.

The East Lawn was a large play area for children.

But I was headed much further on, down, down, down, through The Jungle to the Burma Rope Bridge.

This was great fun. I held back to get a clearer picture of what was before me (fortunately no-one was queuing behind me) and to avoid the stupidity of the not-so-young man two in front of me who insisted on bouncing around and disturbing others on the bridge.

At the other end, and after a few yards right, I followed none of these following directions, becoming conscious of the time, and took the Diagonal Path behind me. It was quite steep.

So I was glad of the several opportunities it gave to rest.

Approaching Home Farm again, I saw the very recently installed Bugginghum Palace, which hopes to make it into The Guinness Book of Records as the largest insect hotel in the world.

On Home Farm, a ‘chicken tractor’. It is moved frequently to give the residents fresh grass.

Bee boles dating from about 1820. Bees continue to play an important part in Heligan’s work.

This is the “Thunderbox Room, a lighthearted title for the gardeners’ lavatory. … It was in the first of the two cubicles in 1990 that Tim Smit and John Nelson first noticed the names on the wall. …. numerous barely legible signatures… August 1914… shortly to depart to fight in the First World War. Of the total of thirteen Heligan men who were to serve… only four survived.”

I was disinclined to enter just to see an old-fashioned loo, especially given the low headroom, but then I noticed a swallow flying in, and suspected that it was visiting a nest.

I was right. Just inside the doorway, behind me …

I hung around, my camera at the ready, to be rewarded with this, for no more than two seconds.

I was doubly pleased to have entered the Thunderbox Room, as it led into the Italian Garden.

Minutes later I was in The Ravine,

then came across this curious tree. It is a Douglas Fir, with a Witch’s Broom ‘necklace’ round it, highly prized by bonsai specialists apparently.

Flora’s Green, near to Beacon Path and the exit

It was time for me to leave – licking an ice-cream. I had not seen the entire estate, far from it, and this is only a tiny selection of the photos I took. But Marks and Spencer called…

Last post, for now

Tags

birds, blackbird, Caerlaverock, Carlisle, chiff-chaff, Eskrigg nature reserve, lapwing, linnet, Lockerbie, Lockerbie disaster, mallard, moorhen, Peter Scott, redshank, swallow, swan, willow warbler, WWT

I had not looked round Lockerbie itself yet, so on Friday morning took a stroll round the town centre on foot, including a visit to the library for information on the Eskrigg Nature Reserve nearby. Lockerbie’s handsome buildings are also of red sandstone.  The parish church, which was closed, was enormous.

So was this building, which I assumed to be the Town Hall, though, other than a minuscule plaque commemorating the town’s (and others’) disaster of 1988, there was no other sign attached to the building at all.  I had to go inside to confirm that my assumption was correct.

Nearby were these and five other sheep

I decided that my day would be best filled by a trip to Caerlaverock, to visit the Wildlands and Wetlands Trust reserve, and the castle if there was time.  This decision had the advantage of taking me though more glorious countryside.

Having studied the plan of the WWT site over coffee, I started my tour of several of the hides. At one, I was grateful to a couple who visit most days for pointing out where the linnet and the redshank were to be seen.

Swallows discussing whether they should be thinking about returning south for the winter

Lapwings and starlings

Lapwing

Linnet

Redshank

Martins’ nests, either beloved or hated by householders, but very welcome at the WWT

I believe the correct collective noun is a ‘murder’, but I prefer, here anyway, just a ‘row’ of crows (with a cow behind them)

Wagtail

A chiffchaff, or a willow warbler? Or something else? Comments welcome please.

The reserve is on the edge of the Solway Firth, so that’s the Lake District in the distance.

It is bounded by farmland on one side.

Unlike the Lockerbie sheep, these were living.

I had been told that there was ‘nothing’ to be seen at the Sir Peter Scott hide, by which my informants must have meant nothing unusual.  I took pleasure nevertheless in sitting there after lunch watching swans, mallards and moorhens.  And learnt that when mallard is occupying a place where moorhen wants to be, it gives way, smartish.

Then I decided to do the ‘summer’ walk, not available the rest of the year because of overwintering fowl.  It was delightful,

especially as for at least five minutes two blackbirds insisted on showing me the way as I strolled along.

The swans I’d seen earlier also seemed to want to keep an eye on me.

I enjoyed looking not only at wildfowl but plants as well.

I was nowhere near a hide when it started raining again, so my new umbrella came in useful. By the time I got back to my car it had stopped, but I heard the castle calling.

There turned out to be a wedding going on there, but visiting was not restricted. Glaring guests just didn’t appreciate how discreet one was trying to be. (One was not dressed suitably.)

In one tower, there were some young swallows practising their flight in anticipation of their long journey to come. As long as I kept still, my presence didn’t seem to worry them.

Accompanying the wedding was a bagpiper.

Hers was not the only kilt around, but I didn’t dare point my camera at the others, much as I’d love to have done.

The next day, it was time to go home to the cats, by train from Carlisle.  Somehow my camera forgot it was no longer on holiday, until we had left Cumbria anyway.

So ended my trip up north.  My next big trip is in September, wildlife in the Pantanal, Brazil, largely by river boat, but perhaps I’ll find a pretext for posting photos again before then…