Blisland bog blog - 21 April

Another sunny day! Scarcely to be believed after the weeks of wet weather that led up to Easter, in Cornwall. Poor Wayne languished in bed with the flu. The children had to go to school. The house needed a post-holiday brush-up, but I did not care. Grabbing the famous pocket pub-walks books, I headed off in search of adventure.

We had not done the Blisland one yet. At 4 1/2 miles, it would be sure to provoke grumbling amongst the children. I drove to Bodwin (and got a bit lost in it, too) before striking north to this little village on the edge of the moor.

It was a very beautiful place, no modern houses at all amongst all the grey stone walls. I parked near a very large village green, before setting off. Along the road, an ancient wayside cross in stone marked a path across the field. I climbed a weatherbeaten stone stile, similarly old, onto the pathway. A few rabbits shot into a hedge. Off I went. Soon I was in a pretty lane, near Trehudreth Mill (see above picture). Those are primroses in the grass near it. The daffodils are now past their prime, and primroses rule the hedgerows. I wished I had brought my new wildflower guide along, because more are now out as Spring strengthens. Consulting it later, I think I saw early purple orchid, ivy-leaved toadflax, wood sorrel and quite a lot of celandine.

I was going uphill now, and made a wrong turn through a gate. ( I should have gone a bit further. This guide is not very precise, I thought.) Anyway, eventually I went through the right gate, and had a sweeping view of the farmlands on my left, and the moor on my right.

I followed a wall on my left, as directed. It was pretty windy up here. THEN I started to get cranky with the guide book. "Go straight on again, this time over open moorland, to meet up with a fence and a wall. This stretch can be rough and boggy, but you should be able to find a way through or round the worst bits." What?! I looked around the vast moor. There were gorse bushes and rocks... could that be a wall ahead? I needed an ordinance map and a compass, I thought.

With some trepidation, off I went. Almost immediately I was up to my shins in water. My faithful walking boots can offer only so much protection. But it hasn't rained in ages, I thought. I hopped onto a patch of hay-like growth, which promptly sank under my boot. Eventually I leapt, staggered and splashed my way over to the wall. It was a bit drier underfoot, here. 'What next?' I thought a little grimly, studying my book.

"When the wall and fence bend to the left..." but they don't, book, they just squarely surround the next few fields "...go half-right..." oh, there's a precise direction, how about 'all wrong' - "...and as you come over the brow of the hill, you will see another wall ahead of you. Aim for that..."

Not likely! Windy hills all over the place, no other walls in sight, horrible bogs, dangerously vague directions - a recipe for disaster. There seemed to be a surfaced track over near a farmhouse on my left. I struck out along that, hoping to come to a lane soon. I passed some (highland?) cattle with very long, pointy, horns which I fervently hoped they would keep to themselves. From somewhere in "Macbeth" I recalled lines about primrose paths that lead to the great fire. Alas! Why did I leave my sick husband and my housewifely duties?! How could Annie enjoy her birthday tomorrow with a mother lost in the bog, pierced by many cattle-horn wounds?

Well, I found a lane. And by bearing left, I did eventually make it back to Blisland. (When the signposts confirmed my direction, I even enjoyed the hedgerows again, out of the wind and bog.)

Around the last few twisting paths between the houses awaited the faithful Rover by the village green. I scoffed my packed lunch with enthusiasm, then off back to Liskeard, avoiding the pitfalls of Bodmin. I could celebrate Annie's birthday after all! now for a spot of vacuuming...