It all began back on 2014 when WildWorks made history. Over 5000 people joined in their commemoration of the centenary of the beginning of WW1 by remembering the community’s lost men in a powerful dawn ‘til dusk performance. That performance was called 100: The Day Our World Changed and took place at the Lost Gardens of Heligan.
The past couple of days have given me such the rare opportunity of seeing the place where I live in Cornwall in a new way. The world has gone muffled and monotone. And I love it.
It is romantic to think of a photograph as a snapshot of a world that would otherwise be lost to us. However the Gibson family’s enormous collection of photographs of Cornwall is so much more than a romanticised version of the past. Continue reading
Every Sunday this summer you can enjoy what has to be one of the most outstanding views on the Cornish coast.
The Gribbin Head Daymark is very striking. Its outline can be seen for literally miles, both inland and of course out to sea. That is after all the whole point. Continue reading
It seems to me that there is nothing quite as romantic as living on your own private island. Looe Island lies just one mile off the Cornish coast but feels a world away from the hustle and bustle of the busy summer seaside towns nearby. It is home to a breath-taking range of wildlife and 2 very lucky people!
The Moonraker boat takes us the short journey from Buller Quay in East Looe to the makeshift landing point on the white shingle beach of the island. As our small party of 8 people jumps ashore we are greeted by Claire Lewis and her partner Jon Ross. The pair have been wardens on the island for 9 years, “When the job came up in 2008 we were the lucky ones who got it” Claire laughs as she gives us a quick guide to the “dos and don’t” of the island. Continue reading
Of course the traditional colours of Cornwall are black and gold (or black and white like the St Pirans flag) but there is another colour that I know resonates through our landscape. Blue.
As I was falling to sleep last night I was thinking back over my day. It had been a glorious May day, more like the height of summer really and I had spent it taking photographs on Gwithian beach. The sea had be ever-changing shades of deep navy blue, emerald green and turquoise and the sky, well it was just the most wonderful shade of . . . how to describe it . . . well. . . it was Cornish blue. Continue reading
It’s been a little while since I posted anything about my rather lovely Kodak Box Brownie camera, if the truth be told I have been using my digital a lot more over this autumn and winter and part of the reason for that is the light, or lack of it!
I posted a little guide to the brownie’s features a while back and in that I spoke about how you to control the aperture on this camera (the amount of light you allow to enter the lens and hit the film).
My Brownie only has 3 basic settings. The lever which has 3 different sized holes in it simply pulls up out of the body of the camera. When it is in a closed position, pushed right in, it is at it’s widest aperture (for use on cloudy days/winter). One click out, the middle position, is for bright evening/morning light. The third position, with the lever pulled right out, is for very bright sunshine/summertime . Continue reading
For a long time I have had a strange fascination with Argal reservoir. I know that with so much natural beauty so near by this might seem a strange choice as one of my favourite places for a walk. But I go there often and for a number of reasons.
As I live within 10 minutes drive of this artificial lake it makes an ideal place for me to grab some fresh air and take a quick stroll. A perambulation of the water’s edge takes me roughly 40 mins and that’s with my camera!
Although it is very well used by dog-walkers, fishermen and runners I always find it a Continue reading
Bodmin Moor feels like a place with secrets and stories to tell. Perhaps it’s the wildness, the wide open spaces and the distance that makes the visitor feel that this is a place that you will never really know completely or quite understand. I do know that it is under my skin. If I didn’t live so far away I would be out on that moor as often as possible.
It is a characteristic of every moorland that there are hidden features, places that are often lost in the landscape. Places that can only be seen from a particular hilltop or when you walk a particular path.
The ancient enclosure on Westmoor near Leskernick hill is one such place. The tumbling walls are only visible from a particular point as the path traverses the old tin streaming works near the base of the hill. The first time I saw it, it was the tree that caught my eye, it is just about the only tree for as far as the eye can see. I just had to walk over and pay a visit.
That time and every time I have visited there since the wild moorland ponies are already there or have arrived to graze. The grass within the old walls is much finer and greener than the rest of the moor, presumably due to human activity and I assume they come to take advantage of this sweeter meal.
It is also a very sheltered spot, calm and out of the wind. Close by there is a steam flowing and a spring bubbling up from the damp ground. I am almost certain that there was once a building there too. In on corner of the enclosure there are smaller walls and what looks like paving slabs. There are also larger pieces of granite there that may have been doorposts or part of a fireplace in another life.
Whatever the weather it is such a peaceful place, I have never met anyone else there apart from the ponies and sheep. And that twisted old tree festooned in lichen and moss provides a lovely bit of company and shelter from the sun or the rain.
This part of the moor is perhaps the most isolated that I have ever visited, it doesn’t have the sites like Rough Tor or Brown Willy, there is no Cheesewring or Hurlers to draw visitors. But I will come here again and again if only to listen to the constant chorus of the Skylarks as they rise and dip and dive above the windblown grasses.
For more hidden places try my page dedicated to Forgotten Places
Carwynnen quoit has fallen more than once. It’s giant stones have been raised up again and again, the first time 5000 years ago, then again in the 19th century and the last time in 2014. Yes, unfortunately it has taken me this long to get around to visiting but the twisting back roads led me to a impressive monument.
I had wanted to be there a couple of years ago when the cap stone had been lifted into place but that happened at a time when the work I was doing didn’t afford me the kind of freedom that I have now. I understand from people who were there that it was a magical moment. Apparently everyone surged forward to place their hands on the stones, almost like a blessing for them and for the quoit.
This summer I have been working with a wonderful group of like-minded people who are as enthusiastic and passionate about ancient places as I am (maybe even more so). We have been spending our days together uncovering two almost forgotten stone circles and a stone row out on the wilds of Bodmin Moor but more of that on another occasion I promise. I choose to mention it now because one of the subjects we talked of while on our knees in the rain cutting turf was how wonderful it would be to see those stones upright again. However since my visit to Carwynnen I have to say I have been having my doubts.
Don’t misunderstand me, I am sure that every possible care was taken with this sites reconstruction and it is wonderful to see this ancient monument on it’s feet again so to speak but strangely somehow it felt wrong to me. Like something was out of place, not quite as it should be. The stones looked new, too clean, too upright – as if they had just been built – which of course I guess they kind of have.
Perhaps that is how the ancient people saw them, all clean, fresh and straight and I am just judging this place by all the other sites I love so much where everything is just a bit sunken and wonky. But it does raise a question for me – when they fall do we just leave them?
I guess the answer is a complex one. Some would argue that these are just old pieces of stone with no intrinsic worth, why should we pay to preserve and protect them? I am not one of those people, to many, including myself, they do mean something.
I believe that anything that links us to our roots and to the world we live in should be treasured. But can we go too far with restoration and how do we know we are getting it right? Each historical sketch of Carwynnen looks different from the next and different again from the stones as they stand today.
So if we can’t get it right should we leave well alone, rather than make a misrepresentation of the past? I don’t know the answer. But I would appreciate others thoughts if you wish to share.
There was a big part of me that looked at the fallen stones of those circles on Bodmin Moor and wished I could see them as my ancestors did but of course I never really will and perhaps I am just not meant to.