The Great Flat Lode

The Great Flat Lode walk is a trail created by Cornwall Council which circles Carn Brea hill and takes you through the heart of Cornwall’s former mining district.

Several websites attempt brief descriptions of the walk – part of the network of Mining Trails – but few really do it real justice; a point we return to below. Cornwall Trails point out that the lode in question was discovered in the 1860s and was effectively worked out by 1920. The ever-reliable iWalkCornwall adds more historical information as is its wont and has a version of the trail which takes a (very sensible) diversion to the top of Carn Brea to admire the Bassett memorial, the remains of the Neolithic hillfort and the miniature castle (now a restaurant).

The first point of note is that it was the lode which was flat – well actually 10-20 degrees – rather than the trail. We have cycled the route and had to dismount at various points. We ended up referring to it as the Great Fat Lode to reflect its importance to mining; that is when we were not discussing the peculiar British grammatical construction that mean it could never be the ‘Flat Great Lode’.

This time we were walking it on a grey January day. It was easy, going.

We parked near Seleggan smelting works (NT) and set off in a clockwise direction, following the contours along an old mineral tramway or railway past Wheal Buller and above the valley containing Carnkie.

The horizon was dotted with chimneys and the walls of decayed and roofless mining buildings. To one side lay the hill that would follow us all day: the massif of Carn Brea with its monument and castle. To our left was the tall Carnkie aerial. It was obvious that this is the main horse-owning area of Cornwall for almost every field had a horse or two trying to look as though they were enjoying the fresh wind.

The trail is generally well-signposted and we did not need a map. As the route is not marked in the OS Explorer series, the map is little use anyway.  Occasionally the waymarkers had become overgrown or obliterated and one sign was lying on the ground so that we had to do a jigsaw puzzle to work out which way it ‘should’ have been pointing (we got the answer wrong).

There was much of interest along the trail but we passed building after building with no idea what we were looking at, nor the name of the particular structure.

An example showed how poorly explained it all was. One of the few interpretative panels we came across was a decaying stainless steel sign which attempted to tell the story of the facility. Sadly the copy, which was difficult to read because of the damage, became hopelessly lost in the detail of some 6 inch reciprocating engine which had done some wonderful thing. we gave up. What we really wanted to know were the answers to simple questions like ‘What is this building called? When was it built? What was it for?  Was it used for copper, tin, arsenic or other? How successful was it? How long did it last?’ The copy had been written by enthusiastic experts and was pretty impenetrable.

The route takes you some way westwards, leaving Carn Brae and Carnkie transmitter far behind, turning right at the Grenville Mines near Troon which is not a beautiful addition to the landscape. From here the trail passes the King Edward Mine Museum and heads down the Red River valley towards the railway line.

This area, around Brea Addit, Carn Arthen and Higher Brea were some of the saddest areas of the walk. Three things combined to create an air of dereliction: rubbish, uncared for fencing and caravans/shacks/broken down vehicles.

The rubbish was the most noticeable feature. One field was covered in what appeared to be broken tiles and paving slabs; there were tyres and fridges beside the road; rusty corrugated iron and broken fences; whole compounds full of dead boats and vehicles and, in the fields, great mounds of single-use plastic and dilapidated sheds and field barns.

It was hard not to feel sorry for sad-looking horses who were sharing their muddy patches with plastic and detritus. We just hoped that they did not try and eat any of the refuse.

The most depressing sight was of caravans and tumble-down shacks with smoking chimneys suggesting that people were actually living within: in winter. We even saw a tent which looked in current use. Barking German shepherds abounded. This was far from being emotionally comfortable.

The trail skirted the mainline railway near Penhallick and settled down into a steady and well-metalled track along the foot of Carn Brea, sharing the route with National Cycleway No 3. It is at this point that iWalkCornwall sensibly takes to the heights of Carn Brea although not strictly on the trail. We will divert up hill in future.

On the eastern side of Carn Brea, the trail descends by a couple of zigzags through Church Coombe – old St Euny church is very visible down the valley –  before picking up the tramway again and returning us to our starting point once again.

The books say that it is 6.5 miles although our gps recorded an easy 9.1 miles in three hours.

We recommend this walk for a good walk. There are no welcoming pubs or cafes on the route other than King Edward Mine in summer but it is a good open air tramp which is friendly to dogs  and makes one think about the mining heritage of Cornwall which was still thriving just over 120 year ago.

We just wish some investment had gone into maintaining the ideals that had obviously been around when the trail was created. A small proportion of the money that was spent on the neighbouring Heartlands development would have produced an interpreted trail of which Cornwall and the World Heritage Site could be proud.

 

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Sennen Cove to Porthcurno

The Longships

We first walked this route in the dying days of the last millennium, and in the opposite direction. A bright sunny day in late September was too much of temptation and so we set off to do it again, the other way around.

We will admit to any amount of bias but this surely the ‘best’ bit of the whole Cornish coast. The cliffs are rugged granite; the views are spectacular; and there is a real sense of progress as one starts by walking westward,  heads south and then ends up walking eastwards. The cliff and rock formations are therefore seen in different lights. On this day, the sea was flat calm and an astonishing array of different colours ranging from deep blue to a watery green.

Central to the view are the Longships rocks and lighthouse but utterly forgettable is the mess of buildings around the Land’s End hotel. The Wolf Rock lighthouse was also visible on the horizon but the haze prevented us seeing Scilly.

Striding towards Land’s End with Cape Cornwall in the distance

But enough of the summary, let’s start walking.

We parked at the top of Sennen Cove, admiring the wide sweep of Whitesand bay around to the lovely Cape Cornwall.

It is not hard to understand why Cape Cornwall was an ancient harbour. A Bronze Age coasting boat making its way northwards from Mount’s Bay  would have few options for landing along the south coast of Penwith but, rounding Land’s End, would be presented by the great sweep of soft sand and the promontory of Cape Cornwall to guide them: two options for a safe landing. Both would be protected from the prevailing south-westerlies.

The going was easy with numerous wide tracks, many of them paved with rough stones to reduce the wear and tear. ‘It is strange, there are no signs. I think this is the way,‘ said one passing traveller, heading towards Sennen Cove which was visible at the foot of the cliff directly below her.

The Land’s End muddle

The white bulk of the theme park is not attractive from any direction. Once there was simply a hotel but now there is a mess of buildings to extract money from wallets. Thankfully, the coastal path has right of way and we could walk past the First and Last house and the hotel without paying any dues, our eyes fixed firmly on the Longships.

It took Cornwall Council 50 minutes of debate recently to decide whether it was Land’s End or Lands End. Finally, they consulted Craig Weatherhill because, through some curious logic, they said ‘he is an expert in the Cornish language’.  Thankfully, he declared it to be ‘Land’s End’ and honour was satisfied.  Not wishing to deprive him of the credit and fame, they could simply have looked at the cover of the OS map.

The Armed Knight

We paused to admire the Armed Knight. He is surely positioned here to defend Cornwall against all comers from the west. Behind him, and on many promontories to the east, lay the dragons of Cornwall, their noses half under water, watching the northern and southern coasts. The Rumps and Cudden being perhaps the best examples.

Enys Dodman

We stopped again overlooking Enys Dodman to sip some coffee. By now the crowds of over-formally coach party tourists had thinned out. The usual inverse square law applied: the proportion of tourists at any point is inversely proportional to the square of the distance from the car park.

Nanjizal or Mill Bay

As we approached Carn Boel the selection of paths finally collapsed into the familiar 30-40cm wide coastal path with which we are so familiar. The bracken and gorse closed about our legs This was clearly beyond the area of heavy tourist use.

What a view they missed. Below us was the great sweep of Nanjizal or Mill bay, the gentle surf sparkling at the edge of the green water. Above the bay a single white house perched precariously, staring westwards to Lyonesse. Alongside us were some Iron Age fields, each with a stone cluster in their middle, no doubt placed there as rubbing posts for cattle.

Carn Les Boel headland. Note the single gate stone just visible on the headland

The southern headland of Nanjizal bay is Carn Les Boel, a small Iron Age cliff castle with a prominent gate stone protecting the neck of land.

This is famous as being the starting, or is it finishing, point of the Great Ley line. This, with its accompanying and wandering Michael and Mary lines, stretches from here, through places like St Michael’s Mount, Glastonbury, Avebury … onwards to the Norfolk coast at Hopton. A positive micro-industry has grown up around this but we cannot say that we felt any unusual energies as we passed across the line.

Lego boulders

The cliffs around here had a wonderful ruggedness. Seemingly constructed of large semi-rectangular boulders, they seemed placed there by giants playing with their Lego sets.

Below, sliced into the cliffs, were great caves and zawns: chasms open to the sea often with a skirt of boiling white foam. Sadly, neither ‘zawn’ nor ‘fogou’ is permitted by Scrabble,  no doubt regarded as being Cornish words despite being in common usage on OS maps.

Porth Chapel (not to be confused with Chapel Porth on the north coast)

The coastguard lookout on Gwennap Head beckoned us onwards. We passed it and the Runnelstone landmarks, the buoy itself moaning softly like a herd of cows in need of milking, and descended to the tiny cove of Porthgwarra  where we once again met visitors. It is still recovering from its recent inclusion in the Poldark series. Here we stopped for lunch.

A step further on and we were passing above Porth Chapel, where one of us mis-spent his youth, surfing and swimming. At the head of the beach stands the small overgrown chapel and holy well of St Levan, matching the well and chapel of St Agnes at its sister cove of Chapel Porth on the north coast.

Treryn Dinas, Pedn-vounder and the Minack rock

One headland and there before us was one of the most famous views in Cornwall: Treryn Dinas with its Logan rock. In front of us was the Minack rock. The sounds of Chicago the musical could just be heard on the breeze, emanating from the matinee performance at the theatre. This area is as familiar to us as the view from Cudden head or the sweep of Kenneggy bay.

As we passed Porth Chapel, we had met a couple heading slowly westwards who enquired the distance to Land’s End. ‘We are completing the coast path and thought we would go for the big finale: a sunset at Land’s End.’ What a wonderful way to end their walk. It looked very likely they would have a spectacular finale indeed. Where better?

We had covered the 5.8 miles in about 3.5 hours, our speed constantly slowed by the need to take photographs or simply breathe-in the views.

Trevague to Minions

Close to Trevague

We started the sixth and last leg of the Copper Trail on one of those May days when one is not sure whether it is going to shower with rain or burn you to a frazzle. It turned out to be a lovely day for a walk: no rain and with enough cloud to prevent over-heating or burning.

There had been copious rain after a long dry spell and the hedges and fields were filled with lush green growth. The last of the bluebells, campion, three-cornered leek (wild garlic) and cow parsley providing a charming red, white and blue accompaniment to the green of the hedgerows.

A boundary stone (North Hill side)

We picked up where we had left off, close to Trevague, following a familiar path through a wood and out onto the moor in search of the Nine Stones stone circle. On our previous walk we had been unable to find this stone circle, as though the piskies had spirited it away. We had searched random stones in search of the boundary stones which led to the circle, but without success. This time, we soon found the line of boundary stones with their comforting letters ‘A’ (for Altarnun) and ‘N’ (for North Hill) carved on them.

The stones themselves were easily spotted, alone on a wide sweep of moor which seemed to contain no vestige of the C21, the distance hills being shrouded in morning mist.

The Nine stones stone circle

The small Bronze Age circle consists of eight stones around a single central stone. It has been restored over time but retains its lonely charm. Sadly, cattle seem to have used the stones as rubbing posts and they are all surrounded by deep muddy patches which are no doubt pools in winter.

It would be splendid to meet the men who built this stone circle, even for a moment, or to watch them working or carrying out rituals within it. Just for a moment our various guesses would be confirmed or denied and our understanding would be extended.

A serpent in Clitters wood

We returned to the lonely house of Clitters which bordered a small virgin wood. In amongst the trees were boulders covered in moss and the relics of previous trees, seemingly twisted into the shapes of great serpents, their mouths gaping, awaiting unsuspecting humans. As night falls this would become a magical and fearful place.

Much of this walk was on roads but quiet roads with almost no traffic which made the going easy. Many of the settlements reminded us of the contrast between West Carne and South Carne on our previous walk: some houses set in manicured gardens, others very much rough working farms apparently collecting scrap metal and the occasional dead car. Stonaford contained both.

The entrance to Trebartha

We were soon approaching the once-great estate of Trebartha, the former home of the Rodd family. The house has gone but there is evidence of careful planting and some lovely buildings clustered around the Home Farm.

By now we were in the valley of the Lynher and a very fine valley it is too. The moor reaches up one side but the valley itself is lush and well cared-for.

A straight stretch brought us into the village of North Hill in time for a cup of coffee. We sat in the churchyard, admiring the wildflowers that survived in God’s acre. Inconveniently, the church was in use for a service and we could not visit, but returned later in the day.

North Hill church from afar

Our way took us out of the village and across a field: the book excelling with its directions as usual ‘… a stile into the woods, just left of the tall trees’ (it was).

A steep climb through some ancient woodland took us back to the edge of the moor on the west bank. Again, we speculated whether one of our ancestors would recognise the virgin forest through which we were walking, for the C21 seemed to have changed little.

From here our way was dominated by the rugged outline of Sharp Tor while off to our right were apparently the hidden remains of various mine workings and quarries.

Henwood lending library

Crossing the Lynher once again at Berrowbridge, we walked up and over a ridge, descending to Henwood which almost boasted a village green. Sitting on the granite seat in the middle of a traffic island, we could admire views of the rolling countryside, across the Lynher and Tamar valleys towards the tors of distant Dartmoor.

The evidence of mining activity increased as we made our way on the last leg of our journey, mostly the remains of the Phoenix United Mine whose engine house still stands amidst a decayed landscape.

The Cheesering was evident on a hill above us with people clustered around it. We resisted the temptation to divert from the approved route  (why does it not go that way, we wondered) and headed along the road, avoiding various feral sheep, until we were within the village of Minions and close to a welcoming cafe. We had circumnavigated Bodmin Moor.

We had walked 8.8 miles (gps) or 8 miles (Google) in 3 hours 45 minutes.

Davidstow to Trevague

Davidstow airfield’s parking problem

Spring had arrived, in a hurry. In a short period of time, leaves had sprung out from branches, fruit trees had burst into blossom, the hedgerows had filled with flowers, and the sun was beating down on a bank holiday weekend. Better still, it had not rained heavily for at least a week and the land was not water-logged.

We picked up where we left off, in a desolate spot somewhere in the middle of Davidstow airfield, possibly the easiest place to find a parking space. That is if you do not mind parking next to a sign which says ‘Aircraft land and take-off from here’. I wonder if the sheep can read.

A wheatear

The first mile was the dullest walk we have done for a long time: one mile straight, on a level road with nothing but sheep and the occasional passing car for company. Eventually we forked right and headed for Old Park. Here we were joined by some brightly-coloured Wheatears which hopped from rock to rock, confused by two walkers on a bright morning. Beside us a positive cavalry of shaggy moorland ponies munched on fresh silage.

Behind us was a wide desolate, flat landscape fringed by Crowdy reservoir and a few stands of trees.

The remains of Roughtor Consuls mine

Close to Old Park is the remains of the Roughtor Consuls mine: a few lumps of masonry and some humps and bumps. In the shallow valley below lay the source of the river Fowey which the guidebook calls ‘a boggy inhospitable area best left to the animals’. Neither the sheep, nor their baa-ing lambs seemed to object.

Rejoining a road, we headed downhill towards Bowithick, a well-cared for hamlet which fringed the rough ground of the moor.

Bowithick ford

Just beyond was a small stream, the infant Penpont water which would wind its way to join the river Inny. A charming bridge beside a ford provided a good place for a coffee stop.

The road then followed a contour, skirting the bottom of Bray and Carne Downs with rough rising ground on our right and increasingly lush well-watered fields in the valley to our left. Sheep to the right and cattle to the left. The going was easy and the roads empty.

The next two hamlets were in stark contrast to each other. West Carne had all the precision of a Cotswold village with the grass well-mowed, the saddle stones in just the right places by the drive, the houses fringed by some lovely granite walls. South Carne was a working farm surrounded by a mass of rusty metal and dead cars.

Lady’s smock

From South Carne we cut across country, following a path, through some lovely lush fields. These were the meadows of our youthful memories with wild flowers in profusion: bluebells, primroses, wood violets, wild garlic in abundance and some lovely bright white Lady’s smock (or cuckoo plant). These were not fields zapped by weed killers.

The path brought us out at Trewint, close to Five Lanes, the official end of this leg of the Trail but we had plenty of energy left and diverted to view Altarnun church, one of Cornwall’s greatest.

Altarnun is a little oasis, a series of well-maintained houses stretching down a short hill towards the tall-towered church where a troll’s bridge spans a bubbling stream. The church is in a league of its own for its magnificent carved bench ends.

Altarnun: the troll bridge

We sat down to eat some lunch amidst bright primroses, daisies, brightly coloured azaleas and flashes of bluebell, watching the stream tumble beneath the bridge.

Returning to the main route, we passed into South Cornwall through a bridge under the A30 and headed south into the unpopulated country along the eastern edge of the south moor. In the distance, the bulk of Dartmoor was a hazy outline while below us lay the familiar rolling country through which the Tamar flows.

Roads and paths led us from farmstead to farmstead until we reached the ford at Trevague where our car was waiting us.

Across the Tamar valley

We could not resist the temptation to see if we could collect a stone circle before the end of the day and headed onwards to the abandoned barn at Clitters, and up onto the moor in search of the Nine Stones. Being only one metre tall, they eluded us but we found some interesting boundary stones which someone had gone to the effort of placing across the moor to delineate the boundary between Altarnun and North Hill parishes. I hope the sheep were grateful.

We returned to our two cars and found Davidstow airfield lost in a dense mist, on a day on which the sun had shone with real heat, suggesting why it was a less-than-ideal situation for an airfield.

We had walked 12.8 miles (gps) 11 miles (Google maps) in five and half hours of glorious sunshine.

 

 

St Breward to Davidstow airfield

One of the many stiles

Another rain-free day took us out for the next leg of the Copper Trail. When I say rain-free, this does not mean that it did not rain heavily the day before, a fact that worried us as the guidebook was full of helpful remarks such as ‘after heavy rain it may provide you with a wet foot‘, ‘… this takes you into a very muddy field …’  We had a sweepstake on how soon we would have a boot full of water.

It would turn out to be worth the effort.

We left St Breward following one of those paths so typical of Cornwall: one which joined up a series of farmsteads to the local church (see the Coffin Path in W Penwith). These are one of the joys of a formerly celtic landscape in which the church stands at the centre of a parish of distributed farms rather than in a village. This path crossed fields and had a series of (slippery) stone stiles.

The path lies through the middle of this. Note the ‘hidden’ bridge

Of course the cows and horses had wanted to inspect the stiles and so we waded through mud to get to them.

Our first real challenge was a stile near Mellon Farm where there was a bridge which we were assured ‘… was only noticeable if the stream is running under it.’ It was and we suffered our first wet boot.

The path continued up a small valley and emerged onto Harpur’s Down with the bulks of Rough Tor, Brown Willy and the man-shaped hills of Stannon Clay works looming in the watery sunlight on our right. We were following something shown on the map as the Moorland Walk although there was no sign of any special signage on the ground.

Rough Tor, Brown Willy and Stannon Clay Works from Harpur’s Down

As we joined the road here, some stones were a reminder of  just how much archaeology there is remaining on Bodmin Moor. Anywhere else, these stones might have been ‘interesting’ but here they were two-a-penny and unworthy of mention in specialist literature.

Lichen on the trees at Watergate

Stannon stone circle was a short distance away up on the moor but we left it for another day, as we later left Advent church.

The route took us on an undulating route, down into a series of small valleys, across a bridge over another stream, and then up the other side. Each had their character and delight. Emerging from the first such valley, we passed some mysterious humps and bumps which may have been a medieval or earlier enclosure, past an interesting holed stone, and out onto a road near Furhouse.

This narrow road twisted and turned between bare Cornish walls constructed of granite boulders taking us past some small celtic fields and on, past a delightful and tiny Methodist chapel at Highertown. The way then descended into another valley and across a stream at Watergate (not, as far as we know, any relation). Here the air was so pure that lichen hung from the trees like wool discarded by the sheep who now inhabited the fields.

The Moorgate Long Stone

Following this stream up a short valley, we climbed a grassy field which was water-logged all the way up. This was a reminder of  how thin the soil is around here. Beneath, one could feel the occasional solid lump of stone or rock.

By now we were inured to the wet but it was helpful to have small field walls to take one out of the squelchy grass and avoid the problems of energetic tussock-jumping.

On the horizon appeared the next monument: the Longstone or Moorgate stone. At 3m tall this menhir is Bodmin Moor’s tallest. Nearby, buried in the grass was a series of other stones which may well have some connection, now lost.

We were now on something called the Watermill Walk but again, there was no local signage.

The River Camel

The route descended into the Camel valley where we joined a delightful path which wound along the river bank, passing the inevitable water treatment (output) plant with which our walks seem to be blessed, eventually emerging into the middle of the town of Camelford.

This was the formal end of this leg of the Copper Trail, after 6.5 map miles. The author may have chosen this as a natural break but this distance felt too short for a full day’s walk. Perhaps he had taken into account the very slow going through the muddy fields.

Crowdy Reservoir

We had decided to take a chunk out of the next walk, however, and continued on through the town, admiring the ‘varied assortment of shops‘ and made our way out onto the Rough Tor Road through Tregoodwill. After a steep climb, the route turned sharp left and followed the crest of the downs, heading for Crowdy Reservoir past yet another water treatment (input) plant.

The views of Rough Tor, Brown Willy and Crowdy were now quite splendid and filled the sky to our right. The path itself was … well ‘dull’ would be a good description: a dead straight road leading towards a series of fir tree plantations that have colonised the south side of the former Davidstow airfield.

Enough was enough. We had reached the north east corner of the Copper Trail and would now turn the corner and head south east. We had walked 9 map miles and 10.25 miles on the gps in 4 hours.

Yet again, the author had done us proud: he had guided us with some impeccable instructions through a lovely series of valleys (shame about the mud), some tantalising archaeology, a lovely walk along the Camel and much of it with the sky-filling views of the Moor and its great hills from the north. And all in beautiful winter sunshine. Now we turn south

 

Callywith to St Breward

It was good to get out and stretch our legs

We set out on a cold dry, windy January day with the objective of shaking off the effects of Christmas and to find some fresh air after a series of heavy storms and gales had passed through. It was sunny and cold with a stiffish wind blowing.

This stretch of the Copper Trail took us on a wide sweep westwards from Callywith, close to Bodmin, to meet the upper reaches of the Camel Trail before breaking away to head back up to the moor ending at St Breward.

Leaving the road near Racecourse Farm, we followed a series of tracks towards Copshorn. The mud was thick in places and we were grateful for the sharp frost which had stiffened the surface of the surrounding grass.

The trail often passed small settlements at the bottom of valleys, close to bridges. The first of these was at Clerkenwater where there used to be a woollen mill. A charming Old Laundry Cottage gave a hint of its original purpose.

The Camel Trail ensured there was always light at the end of the tunnel

At Copshorn, on the hill above, we encountered a large solar farm which was not mentioned in the guidebook and the paths had been altered. From here, the path descended by forestry roads through a wood where, after a momentary hesitation, we managed to join up with the Camel Trail.

The Trail was one of the two highlights of this walk. This section of the familiar was much less busy than the Padstow to Bodmin section and followed the Camel river at a slight distance, through some lovely woodland. We were glad to be out of the wind and walking on firm level ground for about 4 miles, passing Hellandbridge and eventually reaching Tresarrett.

We saw only a few cyclists, runners and walkers as we chuffed our way along the old railway track. Despite one’s childhood dreams, a career driving a steam train must have been a relatively repetitive process with cold mornings, rain, and constant smoke and coal dust. Yet some lines must have been a joy and this is surely one of them, watching the changing seasons in the trees and river as the line winds upwards between the outpost of Wenford and the busy metropolis of Bodmin.

The granite bridge which only crosses part of the river

From a road junction at Tresarrett a short uphill section led to some more muddy tracks which dropped down into another valley, across a narrow granite bridge, and up a steep slope emerging right beside the lovely Blisland church.  Here we settled down to a lunch which included some warming and welcome soup.

Tearing ourselves away from the delights of the village green, we headed north through Pendrift.

Our next objective was the area around the de Lank quarries, the second highlight of the walk. The evidence of the quarry’s work had been very evident as all the houses and cottages we had seen had been built of solid granite.

Pendrift moor. Spot the ‘solitary hawthorn tree’

We soon found ourselves back on waterlogged and very muddy ground, especially as we emerged onto the wide-open spaces of Pendrift Downs.

Somewhere here, amongst the dead and brown bracken, we were told to turn off at a ‘solitary hawthorn tree’. It is a mistake to use trees as waypoints, certainly in an area which was covered in hawthorns. We chose one and found something of a path which led in much the right direction and continued, hopping from tussock to tussock. ‘In winter this path can get wet underfoot’ said the guidebook. I should say it can.

The de Lank river

It was worth the effort however as we soon found ourselves crossing the de Lank river which gushed and tumbled over the boulders, heading for Wenford. The guidebook likens this to the Golitha falls.

Crossing the old quarry road, the path went through the muddiest possible field inhabited by some cold-looking cows. Thankfully, the hard surface was not far below the surface but our boots were now thoroughly caked with the resulting mud (as were some socks).

Eventually, we emerged on a road and were able to follow a path into the beginnings of the long string of hamlets that makes up St Breward. A final muddy path past the school and we had reached our destination: the Old Inn next to St Breward church.

The temperature was beginning to drop and we were pleased to be able to visit the church.

We had covered 10 miles (according to the guide), 11 miles (according to the map) or 15 miles according to our gps, in 5 hours. The heating in the car was very welcome.

 

St Neot to Callywith

Autumn was doing its very best and the countryside was covered with the rich browns of fallen beech leaves, the trees bare against the pale sky illuminated by a bright low sun. It was a fresh November day which threatened an occasional light shower.

We were back on the Copper Trail again, at last.

We rejoined the route at St Neot, where we left of, heading north towards Hilltown Farm before dropping down to the lovely Loveny river.

Colliford residents

The way took us on a cart track up over Penkestle Moor. The path here was muddy despite the lack of recent rain and we were soon jumping from tussock to tussock to ensure dry boots. A short sharp hail shower was the only actual rain we saw all day and not enough to slow us up.

Emerging at the bottom of Colliford Lake dam, we met some of the local residents before turning west towards Carburrow tor which was prominent for some time.

Although part of the Trail covers quite a bit of road, much of the stretches are short and very empty of traffic. This gives it a degree of variety and, in wet weather, the hard roads are almost welcome.

Above Treveddoe valley

Although all part of Bodmin Moor, the area consists of very green fields, wooded valleys and large patches of rough open moorland. much of it covered in scattered stones and remains of former settlements.

Carburrow tor is an archaeologist’s jigsaw puzzle of settlements with long house, cairns, and the remains of many round huts.

We drank a welcome cup of coffee at the foot of the tor before crossing Warleggan down and descending a road to to Treveddoe, a beautifully-situated house at the head of a wooded valley.

Wheal whisper – the ‘dry’

The path dropped down the field and past the remains of Wheal Whisper tin mine. Some small buildings, a landscaped quarry and some well-dressed walls are all that remain of a once-flourishing concern. There was more jumping over tussocks here.

We emerged onto a road and into the village of Mount.

Just outside Mount there was a wonderful signpost, very typical of the ones around Warleggan (‘twinned with Narnia’): great white slabs of wood on elegant posts. This one was held in place by an iron bracket and helpfully offered Bodmin as a destination on two of its three arms.

The inscribed crosses

The road passed the small Treslea Down cross and then two inscribed stones above Welltown. The latter were high up on the top of a Cornish wall at a crossroads and had surely been moved there in the past. Ancient stones continue to provide their usual purpose as waymarkers.

Crossing the unusually tidy greens at Little Downs, we headed towards the remains of Cardinham castle. Sadly, there is very little to be seen from the road. The route squeezes down a muddy track – a narrow ‘bridle path’ – past the old mill before rising up towards the village of Cardinham, the church tower very visible on the hill ahead. This must have been the main route from castle to church.

Cardinham church has some wonderful churchyard crosses and is well worth a detour.

After a bite of lunch, we set off for Cardinham woods. The excellent Copper Trail guide does like the word ‘eventually’ as in ‘follow the track which eventually comes out …’ It encourages confidence that the future will come true.

We ‘eventually’ reached a sign which confirmed that we were entering the woods themselves. We were warned to expect joggers, walkers, dogs and horses. We were not warned to expect a bunch of men wrapped up in leather jackets and goggles, driving open cars on a treasure hunt and beaming from ear to ear. There was no sign of any horses.

The neglected Callywith crosses

The final stretch up through Deviock wood was a long haul. By now the sun had lost its strength and we were walking in shadow. ‘Eventually’ we emerged onto a track said to be much frequented by rabbits – we saw none – the sound of the A30 a dull roar in the distance. A short way across a field, one of those really muddy gateways and a soggy track and we were back onto a tarmac  road past Callybarrett Farm and a waiting car.

A final joy was hidden under a hedge at the edge of a bramble patch, below a modern embanked road: two of the saddest-looking wheel-headed crosses we have yet come across. They stand side by side, apparently neglected. Leaving crosses in situ is clearly a preferred strategy but it seems sad that these two have not been given a more decent prospect than looking out at brambles and listening to the road of the A30 fifty metres away.

After 5 hours we had walked 11 miles (Google), 16.5 miles (our gps) and returned for a well-deserved hot bath. The Copper Trail is proving to be a well-thought out and enjoyable route.

A journey through the landscape and history of Cornwall