Wadebridge, Polbrock and Burlawn

Monday was a wonderfully sunny Autumn day and far too nice to stay at home, so we set off for Wadebridge and one of our favourite walks.

Wadebridge is on the Camel Trail - an old railway line that is now a very popular cycle path, linking Padstow with the foothills of Bodmin Moor. In the summer months it can be somewhat hazardous for walkers, but at this time of the year it's simply glorious.

For this walk we parked on the 'upstream' side of the town and followed the Camel Trail for about 2½ miles to Polbrock Bridge. The sun, low in the sky, glinted on the water of the River Camel, making it look even more beautiful, I felt, than I'd ever seen it before. I tried to capture the beauty on the camera, but my photographic skills weren't really up to it. A couple of footpaths offer the chance to escape the Trail (and the bicycles!) - one to the left through Bishop's Wood and another to the right beside the river, but this time we stuck with the old railway line, which we shared with three cyclists and a few fellow walkers.

At Polbrock, we bade farewell to the Trail, crossed the river and followed a deserted woodland path through Bishop's Wood, eventually emerging at Hustyn Mill. I remember coming here in my courting days. The car seemed to stand on its tail as we drove up the steep hill towards Bodmin and I felt sure we'd end up in a ditch! Now it looks quite tame, though I suspect that most of the bumps have been smoothed out with fresh tarmac. Our route lay in the opposite direction.

The road to Burlawn is almost as steep, though not as narrow. It seemed to go on for ever, but we contented ourselves with the knowledge that this was the only uphill stretch on the whole 6-mile walk. From Burlawn, a pleasant downhill track through farmland brought us back to Wadebridge. In this picture you can see the River Camel, the old Bridge on Wool, and beyond it the modern road bridge.

Incidentally, the Bodmin & Wenford Railway have plans to relay the track between Wadebridge and their present terminus at Boscarne. I hope they never succeed; sharing the Trail with cyclists is one thing, but making room for a full-sized railway as well is just too ghastly to contemplate.

St Hilary

It's strikes me as faintly amusing that there's a saint named Hilary. I associate Hilary with a motherly soul of my childhood who always had the kettle sizzling on the stove and served scones liberally coated in jam, and with enormous helpings of Cornish Clotted Cream. However, lest I run the risk of hate mail from every Hilary who perchance alights on this site, I should point out that today's particular Hilary was a bloke.

When we first visited St Hilary Church, in the early 1990's, there was a notice in the porch proclaiming that the Reformation had never happened here, or words to that effect. It's gone now, but this church has courted its fair share of controversy over the years - most famously in 1932 when "a coachload of hired labourers" (to quote the incumbent of the time) tore down and destroyed everything that they saw as tainted with Popery. Fortunately, they didn't get the lot as there had been prior warning of the attack, and much of the remainder has been lovingly restored. I'm not sure that I like that Rood over the sanctuary arch, though, but that's probably just my low-church bias showing through.

Our walk from St Hilary Church followed the route in Bob Acton's book A View from Trencrom, taking us through fields, over ancient stone cattle grids and down leafy lanes. It's only 4½ miles long - rather short for our regular summer jaunts, but ideal for an autumn 'quicky'.

Before descending to Goldsithney there's a surprise view of St Michael's Mount, and later on an Engine House that has been converted into a rather nice residence. I bet the view from their upstairs lounge is impressive!

Trelowarren

I'm a bit late with this one as the Trelowarren estate, near Helston, is only open to visitors from 1st April to 30th September. The woodlands are lovely, the history enthralling, and it's all free. There's an excellent restaurant that serves really tasty meals and afternoon snacks, but even when we don't spend money here I'm left with the feeling of being welcome. Moreover, the whole estate is mercifully unblighted by ridiculous notices, warning you that 'Paths are slippery when wet', 'Undergound chambers are dark', etc.

The Woodland Walk is a firm family favourite. First stop is The Mound, created from earth removed during the building of a drive on the estate, and now the highest point on the Lizard Peninsula. If you've eschewed the restaurant's fine food, this is an excellent spot for a picnic.

From The Mound, a short walk across a corn field and down a quiet lane brings you to Halliggye Fogou. Followers of this blog will know that I have a fascination for megalithic structures, and this one's the grand-daddy of them all. It's basically a stone-lined underground chamber with narrow passages leading off it, the precise purpose of which is shrouded in mystery. When we came here earlier in the year we were wise enough to be wearing old clothes and carrying a torch. On the return visit, as you see, I had to be rather more careful!

Our route next took us into the woodlands, past beautiful Time Share cottages, then down into the valley and to Ten Ton Bridge - a great place to play Pooh Sticks. From here it's possible to explore several paths, but eventually you should end up climbing back to that nice restaurant again. I recommend a glass of cool Elderflower Juice, followed by a leisurly stroll around the arts and crafts gallaries that border the courtyard.

Zennor Head, Trevail Mill and the Coffin Path

Zennor is a good starting point for several walks. One may climb Zennor Hill, taking in Zennor Quoit on the way, trek further inland and explore West Cornwall's long-defunct china clay industry (something we've yet to do) or take to the Coast Path.

My first picture is taken from Zennor Head, looking South West over Pendour Cove, with Gurnard's Head in the distance. Unfortunately, the Coast Path in this direction is closed, having been seriously damaged during torrential rain last April. We therefore headed in the opposite direction.

Progress was slow, not simply because of the inevitable rises and falls in the path (coastal walking is rarely flat for long) but because much of the path is strewn with boulders. We were joined by a friendly couple from Falmouth who remained our walking companions for the rest of the 5 mile trek. Sometimes we would stop to watch seals bobbing lazily in the almost still water, and they would press ahead; then they would stop to harvest blackberries and we would take the lead.

From River Cove our chosen route headed inland to pick up Church Road - not really a road at all, but an ancient packhorse route that linked St Ives with St Just before the 'new' road was built in the 17th Century. According to the Pathfinder Guide Cornwall Walks, locals call it Coffin Path. This section comes as a welcome relief after the exertions of the Coast Path as it picks its way over ancient stone cattle grids, past granite farmsteads and through grassy fields, back to Zennor.

The path enters the hamlet beside Zennor Church, wherein resides the famous Mermaid of Zennor - now just a 600 year-old carving on a bench end, but once a seductive creature who, attracted by the melodic singing of the squire's son, lured him to his death in Pendour Cove. The moral of the story, quite clearly, is that singing on the Coast Path is a dangerous pastime!

A 'Four Pint' adventure

.. well two quoits actually. Sorry about that.

I love exploring ancient Cornwall - not simply old railway lines or even long-disused tin and copper mines, but really ancient remains that take one back to a time before Irish saints brought Christianity to these shores, and indeed before Christ himself. Bronze age forts, neolithic fogous, megalithic quoits... Many of these structures are shrouded in mystery, connecting us with a time unimaginably different to our own.

In June I blogged about a walk to Zennor Quoit. Today we explored the quoits at Chun and Lanyon. These ancient burial chambers were once covered (or perhaps partially covered) in earth to form barrow-like mounds.

At Chun the erosion of millennia has left an impressive giant mushroom. If you're small and agile it's possible to crawl inside. More amply proportioned individuals like us, anxious to preserve the state of bums and boobs, are best advised to stand without and peer in.

Having got this far you'd be silly not to walk a couple of hundred metres further up the hill to the Iron Age hill fort of Chun Castle. You probably need a hot air balloon to appreciate its true splendour, but those with both feet planted on terra firma will still be amply rewarded for their effort, especially on a clear day. My second picture was taken looking west, with Chun Quoit in the middle distance and Pendeen Church to the right, set against the magnificent backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean. Due South lies the English Channel and Mounts Bay, though sadly St Michael's Mount is just out of sight. West, unmissable on the skyline, is the distinctive engine house of Ding Dong Mine.

Time to move on. Lanyon Quoit is the grand daddy of them all, though now only a shadow of its former self. Until 1815 it's said that a man on horseback could ride beneath it, but one dark and stormy night it all came tumbling down. When it was eventually rebuilt it had lost a leg and shrunk in height somewhat.

However, the 21st Century does have its compensations for just down the road is the finest Cream Tea establishment in Cornwall. If you think you know better, I beg you first to visit The Lanyon Tea Room, before lodging your counter-nomination! A pot of tea, two huge scones and enough jam and cream to add centimetres to your waistline, and all for just £3.95. And no, I'm not being paid commission!

Bedruthan Steps

Well it didn't rain here on St Swithun's Day but it's hardly stopped since, so my meteorologist friend seems to have got it right.

Yesterday afternoon we finally escaped the house and headed a few miles up the coast to Bedruthan Steps. This must be one of the most photographed stretches of coast in Cornwall, and justifiably so. For years it was impossible to get onto the beach as the famous Steps kept being washed away, but the National Trust have now done a 'proper job', though a secure metal gate still bars access during the winter months.

We parked in the National Trust car park at Carnewas, which is a little further away from the beach than the Bedruthan Steps one, but as we're NT members it's free. They serve very nice meals in the cafe there which we eschewed, having come prepared for a picnic - a plan that was quickly postponed due to a stiff onshore breeze. So instead, we just strolled down to the Steps to admire the view.

By now, tummies were rumbling and thoughts of William Morrison's hot chicken in the picnic hamper overwhelmed us, so instead of attempting the Steps we returned to our car and drove to Trevose Head (the headland behind the rainbow in my previous blog entry). The car park there costs a stinging £3.50, but there are few in Cornwall with better views, so it was there that we spent the next hour and a half, eating our hot chicken salad, followed by chocolate cheese cake, looking over Constantine Bay and realizing how fortunate we are to live in Cornwall... even in the rain.

Where has the summer gone?

I was really enjoying this summer. I'd lost count of the number of lunches and evening meals we'd enjoyed in the garden and I was getting rather proud of my biscuity-brown arms and legs. But then, about three weeks ago, the skies began to turn grey and we even had flooding in Truro. Tomorrow is St Swithun's Day, and we all know what to expect if it rains then! According to the forecasters, it will.

St Swithun's day if thou dost rain
for forty days it will remain;
St Swithun's day if thou be fair
for forty days 'twill rain na mair.

A meteorologist friend of mine claims that there's a grain of truth in that old ditty, as if a weather pattern is firmly established by this time of the year it is likely to remain for a month or more.

So to tide me over to the next opportunity we have for walking the footpaths of Cornwall, here's a picture I took a few years ago on a blustery November afternoon, looking from Treyarnon towards Trevose Head. If I'd said that I took it yesterday, I bet most of you would have believed me!