Back to the moors to conquer Caradon Hill

Avid followers of our blog might remember that about six weeks ago, just after the snow, we attempted to go for a walk around Caradon Hill up on Bodmin Moor. That mission had to be aborted as it was terribly icy and we were in fear of losing our toes to frostbite. Well, today was the day we got back up there to conquer the circuit of Caradon Hill. It was actually a very pleasant 2-3 hour walk. Caradon Hill is the highest point in Cornwall so the views are great, the air is sweet and there is a wonderful sense of peace. We took a couple of photos so you can see the rocks of the old mining industry that used to happen on the hill and the views in the background.


It took me ages and all my safari hunting skills to get this photo of Shaun The Sheep. We like Shaun The Sheep.











We were quite surprised that when we got around the far side of the hill we found an old mining chimney ruin all covered in ivy. We went down the far side of the hill and found the burbling stream that we had to follow on our walk but we got hopelessly lost but it didn't matter. That's the beauty of rambling in the English countryside you just head out in a direction and keep going because you can walk anywhere. I knew roughly where the car was so we just headed in that direction past a few farmgates, over a few stiles, along a few muddy paths and eventually we got back. Very nice.

Just Popped In To See My Aunty, Uncle and Cousins...For The First Time In 30 Years!

On a freezing, rainy Thursday morning (Feb 18th) we set off west bound for Goonhavern which is home to my Aunty Barbara, Uncle Trevor, Cousin Faye, her husband Peter and their children, Ellis and Evie (thus my second cousins..or first cousins once removed..or something..if you're an expert write in and let us know). I was 9 years old when I last saw my aunty and uncle. I didn't get to meet Faye when she came to Australia some 8 or so years ago and none of my Australian family have met Peter, Ellis or Evie.


We drove across to Bodmin and found the mighty A30 which is like the Hume Highway. We haven't really seen great big, long highways in England yet and it seems that major highways across the world are barren strips of concrete only designed for cars to travel fast on. The obligatory McDonald's road stop was dotted along it every 30 miles or so (we have got used to using miles fairly easily now). We only passed one as we didn't have far to go. It was very useful on the way back when a 'comfort stop' was required.




Non-family readers might want to stop reading now as I can tell this blog is going to become one of those "we drove into Goonhavern looking for a red postbox as aunty Barbara had told us that their house was near a red postbox. The interesting thing about red postboxes is that back in 1883 when the mining strike was on there wasn't enough lead around..." (ie. potentially boring - by the way I made the last bit about the mining strike and postboxes up in case you were getting excited).




We drove into Goohnavern looking for a red postbox as aunty Barbara had told us that their house was near a red postbox. We found a red postbox but we couldn't find their house so we asked someone. It turned out that it wasn't a red postbox we were looking for at all but a red telephone box! Oh, how we laughed...(I warned you...check out this instead: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sv5iEK-IEzw very funny but be warned that there is mild-coarse language MA15+)




Aunty Barbara and Uncle Trevor live in Chapel Cottage which is a small, renovated Cornish farm cottage not dissimilar to the Hodges' place here. It is all beautifully done in that Ye Olde Worlde style with lovely displays of ornaments, porcelain dolls and pictures. Aunty Barbara has a wonderful display of elephant ornaments in the dining room. We were welcomed with open arms and cups of tea and we were introduced to their 9 month old puppies Otto and Luna. They are Bernese Mountain Dogs which were originally bred as a cross between a grizzly bear, Cerberus, a mastadon and Bob Marley. Big, lumbering dogs of Canine Over-Exuberance (keep up with the posts..see Tintagel) but with a very gentle disposition and dreadlocks.

Over cups of tea we found out about each other and Aunty Barbara and Uncle Trevor inquired as to how we were coping with the cold. Trevor is now working at the local hospital as an Operation Room Assistant and he has resposibilities for checking that everything is proper and correct prior to a patient going into the operation room. Barbara works at the hospital part-time doing clerical work, I think (do you know I'm not too sure..it didn't come up directly in conversation with me but I am assuming it based on what Trevor hinted at).


Then we walked around the corner to Faye's families' place where we met Peter, Ellis and Evie and their Malamute dog, Roxy. The Bernese Mountain dogs and Roxy play nicely together as much as Sumo wrestlers play nicely together; it is all in good fun but they have the potential to destroy a small village in the process.

We decided to go to Perranporth Beach and a drink at The Watering Hole which is a pub actually on the sand. Perranporth Beach is big and sandy. The tide was out so there was about 500 metres of sand to cross to get to the water. It was absolutely freezing with an icy wind off the ocean. We let the dogs play a bit and then it was inside the pub for a hot drink (..Trevor and I had to try a pint of the local Watering Hole ale).

More chatting and all too quickly it was time to say goodbye. We will have to go back and see them again soon as there is lots more to see in the west and it'll be nice to catch up more over a pub dinner (as suggested by Trevor) and a warmer day.

"You owe me five farthings," say the bells of St. Martin's

Up town, a couple of weeks ago, Stefanie met a man called Duncan Matthews whose family heritage is around Liskeard. Duncan has had an interesting life being in the army, the police force and a prison officer. During his military years he spent some time in Yemen, stationed and living in the oldest town in the world - I think it might be Sanaa (thanks to Google).



Anyway, Duncan is a very community minded person and is President of just about every committee in East Cornwall. Of particular interest is his connection with the local historical society and his role as leader of the St. Cleer Bell-Ringers. They are a group who enjoy making music with tuned bells and they are also responsible for ringing church bells around the area.



Duncan invited us to meet up with him on the morning of Wednesday 17th Feb at St. Martin's Church, Liskeard. Here we would get the rare privelege of climbing the bell tower of the church to look over Liskeard and to also have a go at ringing the bells of St. Martin's. The church is just over a thousand years old - yes, that is 1000 years old! - and has had various repairs and improvements over the years. The current bell tower is just over 100 years old. Duncan explained that bell towers do have to be repaired and rebuilt every century or so as the movement of the bells and the weather take their toll (...as bells do).



We went into the church and climbed a tight, spiral staircase up, up, up the bell tower. Eventually we got to the Ringing Room where Duncan stopped and prepared things. He invited us to keep going up to have a look at the view from the top. What a view! We were very high up and could see all over the town and the countryside. It was cold though so we didn't stay up there for long and went back down to the Ringing Room. Duncan began playing The Floral Dance (called the Furry Dance in Cornwall) as we descended so Annie and I took the opportunity to open up the Bell Room door and see the bells being tapped and moving. It was VERY loud.



We got back to the Ringing Room where it was our turn to have a go. We had to pull on strings connected to bells which formed a C-major scale (no sharps or flats). The childen and I concentrated on doing peals (the classic scale run high to low that you often hear church bells doing). The musical Stefanie managed to play a most recognisable Jesus Christ Is Risen Today, Ha-a-a-a-a-lay-loo-oo-ya ..an intriguing choice for Ash Wednesday but it was the only tune she knew in the bell music book. The bell music book had just a series of numbers that told you what number string to pull. Note duration was up to you and you had to know the tune otherwise it ended up sounding like that 'guess the tune' game they play with the little keyboard on 'Spicks and Specks'. You got to remember that whatever we were playing up there was sounding out right across Liskeard. I naughtily said to Jack that he should have played something from his piano book like the 80's classic from Beverly Hills Cop - Axel F. Rather than being horrified at my suggestion Jack smiled and said "I thought about it but I couldn't...the bells don't have any sharps." (he, he...the vicar was trying to conduct a small service down in the church I wonder how long it would have taken him to charge up the stairs to see what was going on if 80's electro started coming from the bells. I wonder if he would have liked it!)



After the bell ringing, Duncan showed us around the church and pointed out all the little things you wouldn't notice unless you had a knowledgable person with you. He showed us the architectural change from Catholicism to Protestantism. He pointed out the Lepers' Window through which, the lepers could be given Communion without coming into contact with anyone in Medieval times. He pointed out the carved heads of the church leaders which surrounded the top of the bell tower. Duncan showed us the gravestone of George Boucher Worgan who travelled with The First Fleet to Australia. Very usefully, George took a piano with him on the ship.



Duncan's passion for history was infectious and he enthusiastically but quietly suggested that he take us through the town to look at some historical sites. In the past Duncan's parents and grandparents had owned many of the shops in old Liskeard. He showed us the historic window shutter runs where the shopkeepers had to slide big shutters across the windows because the drunk miners who came to town would think that there wasn't anything better than smashing huge plates of glass on a Friday night. He showed us the Liskeard Pipewell which has never run dry. Stefanie had seen this previously and when she was told that it had never run dry she replied, "Has anything ever run dry in England? There is so much rain and water." The well is imbued with magical properties and it is said that if you even touch the waters in the well then you will be pregnant within the year. For the record, we looked at the well from a distance. We walked up Cannon Road where there used to be cannons (funnily enough). One night some drunk miners decided to light the cannons and the blast smashed every shop window in town (..it was the ultimate Friday night) and the cannons were quickly taken away the next morning.



Then it was off to Duncan's place at St. Cleer (near the moor) for a cup of tea and then up on to the moors for an historical tour up there. We weren't expecting to go rambling on the moors so dressed too coolly and with the wrong shoes on, off we went.



First we went to Trevethy Quoit, an ancient burial site. Where I say ancient I mean pre-dating the pyramids by 2000 years - that's some 6000 years BC! 8000 years old! Duncan delighted in telling us that when he met his wife, Jennifer, he managed to keep the practical joke of Trevethy Quoit being his family mausaleum going for a week before she cottoned on. He had arranged it with most of the townsfolk so when she went to get a haircut they would ask her about the family tomb, when she went to the dentist her pilgrimage to the family tomb would be discussed. She still married him in the end.



Then it was off to Minions where we had been before but this was a whole new look at it. Duncan showed us the Engine Rooms of the old mines, the shaggy Jacob Sheep which roam around the moor, the barrows that could be seen on the skyline on the distant hills which, were used by ancient Breton tribes as landmarks. Eventually we came to a Barrow of great significance.
This barrow was opened in 1837 and treasure was found inside: the gold Rillaton Cup, a dagger, some carved ivory and glass beads. The Rillaton Cup is now on display at the British Museum and you can read all about it here: http://www.britishmuseum.org/explore/highlights/highlight_objects/pe_prb/t/the_rillaton_gold_cup.aspx


Many thanks must go to Duncan Matthews for a really great and interesting day.

Tintagel Castle and the Legend Of King Arthur

"It befell in the days of Uther Pendragon, when he was king of all England, and so reigned, that there was a mighty duke in Cornwall that held war against him long time. And the duke was called the duke of Tintagil." (Malory - Le Morte D'Arthur)

The Five travelled fast along the A-roads and the B-roads in search of the legendary castle of Tintagel. Their trusty steed, Rover 25 (a curious name), never faltering as they wound their way towards the north. After 45 minutes of their quest they found their way to the King Arthur Car and Caravan Park where a strange machine asked for 2 pieces of gold so they could rest Rover 25 for four hours. They knew their journey was true and that they were on the right path. Clues to the whereabouts of the legendary Arthurian court were everywhere as were signs of magic. Images of wizards, dragons and knights could be bought from the several apothecary shops which lined the main path through the town. One could only marvel at the magical possibilities and arcane practices that could be witnessed at the Camelot Amusement Arcade (open Easter to Halloween). The party considered a refreshing ale at the King Arthur Inn where lips, lubricated from the strength of the local brew, may reveal rumours of the journey ahead. Instead, they followed the sign 'Castle This Way' to quickly continue their search.

Many short minutes later on foot they approached the castle only to find it in ruin as expected. It appeared that they were too late. The castle had already been razed to the ground by the alliance of the evil dragons, the witches of Boscastle, the Welsh (why not?) and the mystical, treacherous figures of Kala-Azar (who live in the East...somewhere beyond the peaceful county of Devon).

The quest for King Arthur continued. What could be salvaged from this grave turn of events? The party walked along the path and found themselves at the top of the Never-Ending Stairs. Carefully, holding hands and handrails, they descended the slippery, stone steps. A magnificent view of rocky coastline and broken castle walls lay before them. Eventually, they came to the bottom of the Never-Ending Stairs which did, in fact, end. A shrivelled, little misshapen man who lived in a small wooden hut...actually he was quite a handsome, tall, early 20 years old knight of the realm...whatever...came out and declared "None shall pass!..here without paying the admission fee."
"But, good Sir, we are members of the Guild Of The National Trust. Does that get us anything?" Sir Wayne inquired.
"Nay, strange Australian. This place is National Heritage. Come, join our guild, it is much better for castles and we are hobbit-friendly at our establishments. We allow the little hobbits to move freely and give them interactive experiences of times of yore." (..."interactive experiences" - what a curious turn of phrase this strange, misshapen fellow had).
Crossing the gate-keepers hand with the requisite sum of gold, the party were allowed to continue through the gate and on with their quest. They decided to take the path to the beach to see if their was any sign of the Great Wizard, Merlin.

There were many questors looking for any who remained from the court of Tintagel. All were struck by the majestic, towering beauty of the cliffs. Merlin was not in his cave, nor was he meditating under the Waterfall of Attempted Solitude (so called due to the number of adventurers disturbing the magical ether of The Haven.)

The party took sustaining rations sitting on the grass overlooking the beach, ever watchful of attack from rival adventurers and their many untamed Hobbits. After lunch they decided to climb The Stairs Of Challenging Fitness to the actual ruins of the sacred keep. A strange spell came over the party as they climbed higher and higher, overlooking the sheer cliffs and the sea far below. Needlessly, Sir Wayne warned the party to stay away from the edge as the height was giddying. A minor fear of heights being of course the only weakness in this mighty warrior.

Soon they were on top of the headland and standing where the great King Arthur once stood, overlooking the Atlantic Sea. A hawk hovered motionlessly in the air above them. Sir Wayne, using his power of empathy with animals, held out his arm drawing this new familiar to him. A gust of wind disrupted the hawk's hover and it flew away.

The weather closed in and it began to rain. The party wrapped their elven cloaks around them to ward off the weather. They had confirmed that the court of Tintagel was lost and that Arthur and the Knights Of The Round Table had departed for Avalon.

Uplifted by their quest, the party descended the now slippery Stairs Of Challenging Fitness. But that was not the only remaining challenge, for as they descended the stairs The Fair Maiden Stefanie had to steathily sidle past a grim woman of Kala-Azar who had a Fell Canine Beast Of Over-Exuberance who chomped at the fair maiden's hand. Luckily, the fair maiden's Woolen Gauntlets Of Weather Protection protected her soft, sensuous skin but she was rather cross that the Fell Beast's tooth had caught on a thread creating a hole.

Surviving the quest, they returned to Rover 25 who was loyally waiting for them in the King Arthur Car and Caravan Park. The sharp-eyed Sir Wayne noticed a National Trust guild house - The Old Tintagel Post Office - nearby so, flashing the secret access card at the young, volunteer gate-guard they went inside the 14th century building to have a quick look. It was a delightful end to their adventure so, tired and happy they went home via the A-roads and the B-roads.

Arrrr..Shiver me timbers...A Weekend Exploring The Pirates' Coast

It has been three days of adventure as we explore this land of Cornwall. Over the weekend of the 13-14th of February we went in search of pirates and smugglers along the smugglers' coast and the town of Polperro.

Saturday was very cold and cloudy and we drove to the carpark at the top of the hill at Polperro and walked down to this beautiful, old fishing village. Tiny houses with Cornish Piskie-sized doors and stucco walls lined narrow lanes. All of this surrounded the craggy, rocky-cliffed harbour which contained beached, small fishing boats on the low tide. One could certainly imagine a time of eye-patches, wooden legs, cutlasses and treasure squirrelled away in secret.

There were many photo opportunities but we made the fatal mistake of the traveller and didn't charge the camera battery. Ahh!...I mean Arrr! It was certainly a lovely place to explore and not very far away at all so we knew we would be back soon.

We decided to have lunch with the locals in The Three Pilchards Inn. An interesting English phenomenon is dogs. They are allowed everywhere. We found ourselves enjoying a pint with a couple of well-behaved black Labradors. At least they were well-behaved until the food came out, then they looked at everyone hopefully and upon realising that they weren't going to get a chip or even better an entire steak they started to fight and bark. It was very startling and led us Aussies to question whether an open door policy on dogs was a good idea. Anyway, after the hearty lunch it was time to go home.

Stefanie and I were wondering where to go on the Sunday. The only thing that was certain was we needed to get out and about. Lo and behold an email from Tim arrived on cue and he suggested that a walk from Talland Bay to Polperro is lovely. "Let's do that," Stef said. So, we left the children, who were in need of a rest and DVD, behind and off we went for more exploring of the smugglers' coast.

We drove down a long, windy lane to the small carpark at Talland Bay. We are now much more used to driving along Cornish lanes and are used to the courtesies and etiquette. The parking space was near a rocky beach with small pebbles and the Cornish Coastal Path streched away in both directions along the coast from the carpark. Following the sign to Polperro (1 1/2 miles) we set off on our ramble.

The sun came out and the temperature was relatively warm. It was nothing short of a sparkling, glorious day. The path went steeply up the over the headland and at the top we found ourselves quite high, looking over the millpond-like English Channel. 'Why no tinnies fishing out on the water?' I thought, as the water certainly looked excellent for fishing. Maybe the water temperature of 9 degrees puts the recreational anglers and the fish off.

We looked along the rocky coast line and were struck by the beauty of the place. To be honest, Stefanie and I were not aware of or prepared for the stunning view of the coastline and the sea before us. Coming from the south coast of NSW with the best beaches and coast in the world and having holidayed at the Whitsunday Islands we didn't expect to see a combination of both in England. The coastline was rocky, steep and wild. The sea was turquoise, flat, deep and stretching to the horizon. We were so high up that seagulls drifted below us catching the updraft from the cliff-face. The sun was bright and sparkled on the ocean. "It is moments like this you come on exchange for," Stef said.

After walking across the headland we descended down into Polperro once again, had a coffee at a lovely little coffee shop with its obligatory quota of dogs lying at owners' feet and then marched back across the headland to the car.

We noticed the pink colour of the rock on the beach. It might be weathered pink granite but I'm going to have to do some more research to confirm this hypothesis (...says the Science teacher). Here is Stef in front of the rocks. She is suffering from 'hat hair' at the conclusion of our walk but she said it was alright to use this photo in the name of Science so you can see the rocks.

The telling of our three days of adventure continues in our next blog-post in which we do nothing less than chase the legend of King Arthur and The Knights Of The Round Table...

A Local Ramble 'Round Liskeard

It has been a very cold week. Walking on the freezing high moors did not appeal to me in the last few days, so I found a Liskeard local walk on the internet, based on catching the train and walking from the station. It promised a walk 'of diverse terrain and historic interest', and so it proved. It was so interesting that I took Jack on the same trek today, as he had most of the day off because of parent/ teacher interviews taking place. (Better than teaching all day, and THEN having interviews, I mused. All right for some!)

Rather than starting at the station, we started at the parking lot that was along the route anyway. We walked along a Liskeard street for a little way before turning up a lane that had 8 foot walls, topped by a hedge. It was dark! It was all uphill, and ended in a stile leading into a field.

(Interestingly, the children had had no concept of stiles before coming here. They just thought they were some sort of gate. This walk had five of them. Jack is pictured at the bottom, sitting on a particularly charming one overhung with bushes.)

We walked through three fields, which had sheep and lambs in them. The last was an extremely steep hill, which we had to walk down in zig zags. I think the hills account for a lot of the 'diverse terrain' around here. Here I am down the bottom of the hill, where two rather nice tall trees marked a gate. There are not a lot of big trees around, which is why I took a picture.

Across a little stream, then uphill past a Georgian house, looking rather stark in the landscape. (See picture). The last stile took us into a winding lane, past old farmhouses and fields with more sheep and some very new lambs. All the sheep seem to have their tails intact. Maybe they don't get daggy sheep here. ( I think 'dag' is a very Australian term! I wonder what the English call people with no fashion sense, who are a bit foolish? )

We passed some old lime kilns, "remnants of a time when the Liskeard to Looe canal served this early industrial zone", apparently. The stream was rushing, but pretty narrow. Surely a canal needs to be bigger? Near the railway aquaduct loomed some equally high old structures, very tall and imposing, maybe from an ancient bridge. Jack was very impressed. Impossible to photograph them... Then a very long uphill bit, past more stone buildings and farms, some looking very old indeed. Pretty, but very cold. The puddles were frozen, even at midday. Our faces ached, although we were otherwise dressed very warmly. Wayne said it was -6 degrees when he rode his bike to school. His fingers got very cold, even in gloves!

Anyway, we eventually got to the top of the hill, and walked through the town until we reached our car. We felt we deserved our lunch.

Five Adventure in Kilminorth Wood and finally get to Looe

A bright, sunny Saturday morning greeted us on Feb 6th. We had already decided that we were going to do the Looe walk in the fabulous book Pub Walks Of Cornwall. The idea of the book is that you drive to a pub, go for a walk in the English countryside and then drop into the pub afterwards for a pint of best ale. That's the sort of walking I like to do; something with a good reward at the end of it.

We drove to Looe following the Looe River down through the Looe River Valley. It is a pretty drive which winds down and ends up at the Looe Bridge. Looe is lovely with hills on the eastern and western sides and buildings propped up on the steep slopes. Narrow lanes, stone towers, fishing boats and the river make Looe a picturesque fishing village with a heavy tourism focus.

We drove across the Looe Bridge and then found the car park. The western side and the carpark area recalled the back of Narooma fish and chip shop area where the river widens into a lagoon and there are places for people to eat and for children to play. It felt like a holiday spot and it felt good. I commented to Stef that it really felt like the first place we had been in England where we were together looking at something different and new. Our car was one of about twenty in a one thousand space carpark complete with special tour bus parking areas. I think this might be a place to avoid in the summer.

We walked up the hill with our trusty pub book in hand. We found Kilminorth Wood and followed the Giant's Hedge - Watergate path. The ground was spongy with a carpet of decaying leaves. The air smelt of sweet soil. Moss and lichens hung on to the trunks of trees and the filtered sunlight cast dappled shadows on the ground. It was a lovely walk. It became a bit challenging as the path turned muddier and muddier but eventually we wound our way through the woods and down on to the riverbank. The tide was going out so we were able to walk along on the riverflats. The tides are huge and the river almost runs to dryness on the low tide.

After a couple of hours of walking it was lunchtime and we were hungry. It was time to see if we could up the ante from our previous fish and chips experience. We quickly found a place that had a large number of customers. It must be the place to go. We bought cod and chips and went to sit on a bench beside the river near the fishing boats. Does fish and chips get any better than that? The combination of hunger, beautifully cooked fish and chips, the river, the fishing boats, the sunshine and the big seagulls squawking led Eleanor to declare "I think this is the best fish and chips I've ever had, Dad." I simply replied "I think you might be right." The seagulls here have a distinctive cry. It is an echoing, yearning yelp which brings images of crashing waves, the Atlantic, square-rigger ships, pirates, treacherous coasts and gale-force 10. The Australian gulls were wonderfully portayed in Finding Nemo - ganging up and intimidating with their annoying "mine, mine, mine, mine" in their short, sharp screech. There is a sign near the Looe River that says "Don't Feed The Seagulls - They Are Vicious" and they look it. The Australian equivalent would read "Don't Feed The Seagulls - You'll Never Get Rid Of Them".

After lunch we walked along the river to Banjo Pier so that we could look at the sea. There were quite a few people about as it was a sunny Saturday. The beach was a dark coloured sand. There was a walled entry to the beach with steps leading down to the sand. The sea was glassy with a 2-3ft beach break foaming on to the shore. The coastline stretched around to the left and there were rocks at the eastern end of the beach. I thought it looked quite a bit like the view from Shelley Beach with the coast stretching away to Burrawarra Point. People were milling about on the sand and taking photos. No one dared to enter the freezing water though it looked quite inviting. I visualised what the beach would be like mid-summer with thousands of people on it. We are very lucky to have a low population and plenty of space in Australia.


It was a very enjoyable outing. We will definitely get down there to have a look at other parts, see the woods in spring and walk the coastal path.