Safe Harbours and Holidays

Fowey has long been a kind of panacea for me. I lived there twenty years ago having been made redundant in London and unable to get any work there. Unfortunately there was hardly any work in Cornwall either so I had to eventually go elsewhere for work, but the place has always kept a stronghold on my heart. And my local pub, which we stayed almost next door to last week, was aptly named the Safe Harbour.

I wasn't sure about a week there – Himself might get bored as he wasn't well enough to do much – but I can't believe how lucky we were. The weather was fabulous, my friends Deb and Richard stayed for 2 nights and we had great walks, meals and drinks. Then my mum came to stay for another couple of nights, and the last 2 days we spent with our friends from Devon who were staying in the pub at Bodinnick. They're great walkers, so we did two 8 mile walks on Wednesday and Thursday in perfect sunshine. My idea of bliss.

We also, with their help, got the inflatable boat out on Thursday morning. This is named EGO (as in inflated ego) – you can blame our Penzance cousins for that. The wind went down enough for us to enjoy an hour on the river up to Mixtow then round to Penpol, and Himself so enjoyed that, it was wonderful to see his happy smiling face.

There were several down days while we were away (health issues) but the week away really made me realise several things - how important my friends are (thanks to those of you who emailed saying Welcome Back!).

This week also made me even more aware how important good health is.

It was the first time for ages I'd really pushed myself beyond my comfort zone physically – and I loved it! Those walks with John and Annie will stay with me for a long time.

And lastly, I know that Fowey will always be somewhere I can go in times of need – to have wonderful times with friends, and also to restore myself. My own Safe Harbour.

The Best Party Ever

Yesterday was a busy day for us. I wanted to get another walk done for the magazine, but the weather was overcast with those heavy banks of cloud that aren't going to budge, so Rebecca Taunton (friend and photographer) didn't come as the light wasn't good enough to take any pictures.

She is a fount of knowledge of wildlife, vegetation and geology, and we missed her company, too. Mind you, the walk – at Daymer Bay – was largely over a golf course and sand dunes which are pretty short on vegetation or anything geological. Not much birdlife either. We got lost on the golf course, at which point Himself rang to say he was in the Rock Inn. Upstairs. “OK,” I said. “I'll see you there when I get there.”

We finally made it to Rock, but having reached the bottom of the golf course drive, didn't know which way to go next. Where was this pub? Rang Himself. No answer – phone switched on but no reply. Where was he?

Turned left. Found another pub. Wrong one. No one to ask. Walked a bit further and decided to turn back.

Rang Himself again. Still no reply.

Ten minutes later, by which time my temper was becoming a little Short, and there was still no reply from errant husband, I espied the Rock Inn, past the Green Tomato Cafe (no comment).

Having vented my spleen (whatever that is), we had a pleasant drink and packet of crisps before Moll and I returned to Daymer Bay via the sand dunes. Windblown and covered in sand, but happy.

An hour's drive back home, then a quick collapse before setting out to the Singalong version of Mamma Mia. I should explain that Himself is a Mamma Mia virgin, but having expressed a desire to see the film (he is brave enough to admit to enjoying Abba songs), I decided that tonight was the night.

Sadly, owing to the flu epidemic ravaging Falmouth, the cinema wasn't quite full, but the audience was more than appreciative. A crowd of young children ran up to the side whenever one of their favourite numbers came up, and danced happily in the aisles. The rest of us – aged 50+ - sang quietly or, in my case, loudly, and wept (in my case) throughout most of it.

We emerged at 7.30 to walk up to meet some friends in the pub for supper. My head was ringing with music but Himself was rather quiet so I asked, rather hesitantly, if he'd enjoyed it.

“How could you not?” he said giving me a big cuddle. “It was like going to the best party ever.”

A Childhood Walk

This walk is in this month's Cornwall Today with wonderful pictures by Rebecca Taunton. If you are anywhere near a newsagent that has the November edition, it's well worth looking at just for RT's pictures!

A walk along part of the cycle trail, through old mining country


One overcast afternoon, my dog Mollie and I set off with a friend for a circular walk around her childhood stamping ground of Bissoe. We piled into my van and took the A39 from Falmouth to Truro; at the Devoran roundabout at the bottom of the hill we took the turning marked Bissoe. This led under a viaduct, past Bissoe Cycle Hire and we took the first small turning on the right opposite a garage. Several hundred yards later we came to a granite post saying Wheal Andrew and a little further down the road we parked in a large layby on the right.

From here we walked 100 yards on and took a steep rocky lane on the left by a granite sign to Twelveheads. This area is known as Wheal Fortune and the land here was once the most expensive in Cornwall. From 1819 Wheal Fortune formed the easternmost part of the Great Gwennap Consolidated Mines, which was once the largest copper mine in the world. Although it worked for tin at an early period, it was as a copper mine that it became important. But cheaper ores were being mined abroad, and in England the price of copper fell from £115 to £80 a ton. In 1870 Wheal Fortune was abandoned and across Cornwall many miners emigrated to work in Australia and North America. There is little sign of wealth now: only a few scattered houses in amongst granite, bracken and heather; across the fields the only sound was the cry of a solitary cockerel.
We followed this path up the hill, down past Arley Cottage on the right, crossed over a road and continued over, passing clumps of puffball mushrooms, like dun coloured pincushions. Up the hill we walked, past Fernysplatt Bal, disused mine dumps and mine workings. Oak leaves were already turning here, and the blackberries were out in abundance.

At the top of the hill we took a left fork, past White Cottage on the left, and followed this rocky path downhill through thick mud churned up by cycle tracks. We looked over high hedges onto fields of lush tall grass, heard the mew of a young buzzard overhead, and at the end of the footpath we turned right into a small road. A thin watery sunshine came out as we walked through the tiny hamlet of Coombe Hill, where we passed Clifford House on our left and an orchard studded with bright red apples and the last netted raspberries.

Further down the road we realised we were descending into a dense wooded valley where the river rumbled noisily below us, orange gold rosehips peeked from the hedges and a dog barked in the distance.

At the bottom of this road we turned right and first left at a Public Footpath sign, partly obscured by an oak tree laden with green acorns, and entered another small hamlet. Here were stables on our right, and a rusty dustbin perched incongruously on the bank of a fast running stream. Further on we turned left to follow another Public Footpath sign, over a bridge where the stream swelled to a river, then plunged into a whirling eddy. Here the slender trees were throttled with thick veins of ivy, and the path was heavy with mud. Rooks have been known to nest in nearby Cusgarne School but today they cawed above us, black shadows in the sky.

The path suddenly opened out into a tarmac area and we passed Calico Cottage before arriving at Hicks Mill Methodist Church, built in 1821, though the deeds go back to 1667 and there was once a corn mill on this site.

We peered through the windows of this well maintained building before walking through the car park out onto a road and turned immediately left, along a quiet road past Mount Pleasant Farm on the right. This led to another crossroads where we turned left. Over the granite bridge we turned left onto the official cycle trail from Devoran to Portreath; this is a smoother track, popular with cyclists of all ages and sizes. As we walked, two cyclists in red and yellow jerseys sped past, ringing their bells loudly.

We walked over another wooden bridge, and noticed red water flowing in the stream below: this was from heavy metals that leaked into the water when Wheal Jane mine flooded in 1991, leaching toxic mine waste that travelled as far as Restronguet Creek.

The ground opened up here into flat moorland with gorse, purple heather and blackberries in abundance – a natural buffet for myself and Mollie. Up on our right, disembodied voices floated down from the cement works that looked like an eerie James Bond set. Mount Wellington looked down from the left, and all around us was Bissoe Valley Nature Reserve owned by the Wildlife Trust. A restoration programme set up in 1986 has ensured that there is newly planted woodland, ponds and regenerating heathland in this area and we saw evidence of this: a pond with huge lemon coloured waterlillies in amongst the reeds, dragonflies and emerald damsel flies.

Further on we came to what looked like a solitary mine engine but is in fact what was left of the Point Mills Arsenic Refinery, that produced arsenic famous for its high quality throughout Europe. A plaque told us that the refinery operated for 100 years ending with the outbreak of World War Two.

Nearing the road we passed a field full of large rabbits which Mollie tried to chase, and a pony which she thankfully didn’t. We headed towards the road, turned left and immediately right to Bissoe Cycle Hire where we sat outside the café and enjoyed mugs of tea and slices of fruit cake, though their cream teas and flapjacks looked very tempting. Despite the proximity to the arsenic works!
Leaving the cycle hire behind, we headed onto a narrow and muddy path where the sun broke through the clouds and a flock of crows chattered above, followed by a solitary egret. Further on we saw a dragonfly, its turquoise wings glittering in the faint light, proof that the conservation efforts are working here.

Soon we forked right and met up with another bridlepath. This was smoother which made walking easier and a little further on we hit the official cycle trail. To our right towered a mine waste dump which my friend said she had played on as a child. Not something that would be allowed in these health and safety conscious days!
We finally arrived back at Wheal Andrew, turned right and walked along the road to the layby where we’d left the van. Mollie was covered in mud, but she gave a happy sigh and flopped into her basket, eyeing the bag of blackberries hopefully as we drove home.

This walk gives a real insight into one of the mining areas of Cornwall, undisturbed and ancient, where the air is heavy with history.

FACTBOX
Length: 3 1/4 miles
Time: 1 ½ - 2 hours
Grade: moderate but can be muddy in places so boots are advised
Maps: OS Explorer 104 Redruth & St Agnes
Refreshments: Available at Bissoe Tramways Cycle Hire.
Over 100 Bikes Open all year. Old Conns Works, Bissoe Truro, TR4 8QZ
Tel:- 01872 870341
Areas of historical/other interest: The old Mineral Tramways from Devoran to Portreath is an interesting ride for the average cyclist - the route follows what were working rail tracks that carried minerals (tin, copper etc) to the ancient quays at Devoran or the harbour at Portreath.
Mount Wellington Mine was once part of Wheal Jane and one of the last 3 working mines in Cornwall during the 1980s.

Carwinion Walk

This is in the current issue of Cornwall Today. To see the accompanying wonderful pictures, buy the September issue, but also have a look at Cornish Dreamer

A circular walk encompassing woods, fields and coastal footpath; popular with dogwalkers.

CARWINION WALK, MAWNAN SMITH

Summer finally decided to make an entrance on the day I set off with a friend and my Jack Russell, Mollie, to drive along the road from Falmouth through Swanpool and Maenporth towards Mawnan Smith. Passing a sign saying Woodlands on the left, we continued round the corner and parked next to Carwinion Playing Fields, opposite Carwinion Garden, famous for its bamboos and cream teas.

To the right of the garden a public footpath sign marked the start of our walk, and we went down a rocky lane that led into dense woods by the side of Carwinion Garden. The going was rough here and in wet weather can be slippery, but as we walked further the path became well trodden earth and kinder to the feet. Huge ferns towered over us, providing a cool canopy after the overheated car, and sunlight slanted through the trees.

At a fork in the steep path through this wooded valley we took the left hand turning over a small slate bridge, past an unexpected burst of orange montbretia, and further down into the woods where the incline levelled out. A stream splashed beside us and overhead was the cry of a buzzard and the tapping of a woodpecker. We chatted to several passing dogwalkers and marvelled at how different most people are with dogs. They provide an excuse to be friendly.

The path finally levelled and opened into a field of long grass; the day turned sultry under pale blue skies streaked with mare’s tail clouds. We continued through another gate and down to a pebbled cove especially popular with dog walkers, as this private beach is dog friendly all year round. According to the map it is Porth Saxon, but the locals I spoke to call it Porth Sawsen. We were intending to swim here, but the brisk easterly wind dismissed that idea, so we threw sticks into the sea for Mollie who thoroughly enjoyed her swim.

We continued along the path to the left of the beach, steering Mollie away from tempting picnics and barbecues, and headed up the hill, past a boathouse and over a stile into another field, through a kissing gate that is often waterlogged in winter and down to Porthallack Cove – otherwise known as Cow Beach or Church Cove.

Sitting on the beach we relaxed in the unaccustomed sun, sipped water and listened to the steady thrum of a boat engine, waves lapping the shore, and the overexcited bark of a Collie chasing pebbles up and down the beach.

Jumping over a stream edged with wild bamboos, we came to an overgrown gate on the left with a sign saying ‘Mawnan Old Church ½ mile, Mawnan Smith 1 ½ miles’. If you wish to take the slightly shorter, inland route, go through this gate which will take you through several fields to Mawnan Church and then back to Carwinion. But note that there are often cattle in this field so keep dogs on a lead.

We chose to continue along the path through a gate and up an incredibly steep field that led to the coastal footpath. Panting at the top of the field we looked back to stunning views of the Helford river, of Trebah Gardens and Durgan beach. Sailors in small boats were enjoying a good sail, while some moored off coves only approachable by water, Swallows and Amazons style.

We passed through a new gate which led us to the coastal footpath which was steep and hot out of the wind. Around were signs of summer confusingly mixed with autumn: the heady sweet smell of honeysuckle; the first sloes, small and green, and unripe blackberries with a hint of red and black. Far below a sleek black cormorant dived neatly into the sea, surfaced and took flight, wings skimming the surface of the water.

On the opposite shore lay St Anthony’s, Denis Head, and the far peninsula of Nare Point shimmered in the sunshine. The footpath ended in another stile leading to a field where there are often cattle. On this day there were none, and we headed across the field into dense woods with a carpet of crunchy leaves, where the sea glinted through slender trunks dappled with sunlight. Taking the path to the left we scrambled over another stile and reached Mawnan Parish Church, which is well worth a visit.

The church is a navigational aid to boats entering the river and it seems that a cruciform building was erected in the 13^th century, though there are 14^th century windows and the north and part of the south aisle were added in the 15^th century.

It is a beautiful building, popular for weddings, and on our visit the arch above the church door was decorated with garlands of orange and white flowers, white ribbons and white roses.

Whenever I visit Mawnan churchyard I am struck by its historic beauty. The ground was soft and mossy, the grass mown lovingly. Ancient gravestones leaned, smothered in beards of grey lichen, entwined with the occasional bramble. The sea was visible through the trees, and there was a quiet stillness here, a sense of peace. A perfect resting place.

We walked through the car park and took the only road out for a hot walk along the quiet country lane back towards Mawnan Smith. Along the way we passed noisy sparrows darting above a bank of wild pink roses sprawling in and around a tree. Opposite I was particularly struck by an inventive bit of gardening: a red gumboot filled with flowers.

We walked on, past the Catholic church where the road forks, and took the left turning back towards Carwinion and the car. As we passed the playing fields, the tempting smell of barbecue drifted towards us and my nose twitched like Mollie’s and our mouths watered. But we turned our backs and headed for Carwinion Garden and a well earned cream tea.

FACT BOX Length: 2 ¼ miles returning the inland route 2 ½ miles returning via the coastal footpath Time – Approximately 1 ½ hours Grade: moderate, steep in places Maps: OS Landranger 204 (Truro and Falmouth Roseland Peninsula) and OS Explorer 103 The Lizard (Falmouth and Helston) Refreshments: Carwinion Garden, Open 10-5.30 daily