A Childhood Walk

This walk is in this month's Cornwall Today with wonderful pictures by Rebecca Taunton. If you are anywhere near a newsagent that has the November edition, it's well worth looking at just for RT's pictures!

A walk along part of the cycle trail, through old mining country


One overcast afternoon, my dog Mollie and I set off with a friend for a circular walk around her childhood stamping ground of Bissoe. We piled into my van and took the A39 from Falmouth to Truro; at the Devoran roundabout at the bottom of the hill we took the turning marked Bissoe. This led under a viaduct, past Bissoe Cycle Hire and we took the first small turning on the right opposite a garage. Several hundred yards later we came to a granite post saying Wheal Andrew and a little further down the road we parked in a large layby on the right.

From here we walked 100 yards on and took a steep rocky lane on the left by a granite sign to Twelveheads. This area is known as Wheal Fortune and the land here was once the most expensive in Cornwall. From 1819 Wheal Fortune formed the easternmost part of the Great Gwennap Consolidated Mines, which was once the largest copper mine in the world. Although it worked for tin at an early period, it was as a copper mine that it became important. But cheaper ores were being mined abroad, and in England the price of copper fell from £115 to £80 a ton. In 1870 Wheal Fortune was abandoned and across Cornwall many miners emigrated to work in Australia and North America. There is little sign of wealth now: only a few scattered houses in amongst granite, bracken and heather; across the fields the only sound was the cry of a solitary cockerel.
We followed this path up the hill, down past Arley Cottage on the right, crossed over a road and continued over, passing clumps of puffball mushrooms, like dun coloured pincushions. Up the hill we walked, past Fernysplatt Bal, disused mine dumps and mine workings. Oak leaves were already turning here, and the blackberries were out in abundance.

At the top of the hill we took a left fork, past White Cottage on the left, and followed this rocky path downhill through thick mud churned up by cycle tracks. We looked over high hedges onto fields of lush tall grass, heard the mew of a young buzzard overhead, and at the end of the footpath we turned right into a small road. A thin watery sunshine came out as we walked through the tiny hamlet of Coombe Hill, where we passed Clifford House on our left and an orchard studded with bright red apples and the last netted raspberries.

Further down the road we realised we were descending into a dense wooded valley where the river rumbled noisily below us, orange gold rosehips peeked from the hedges and a dog barked in the distance.

At the bottom of this road we turned right and first left at a Public Footpath sign, partly obscured by an oak tree laden with green acorns, and entered another small hamlet. Here were stables on our right, and a rusty dustbin perched incongruously on the bank of a fast running stream. Further on we turned left to follow another Public Footpath sign, over a bridge where the stream swelled to a river, then plunged into a whirling eddy. Here the slender trees were throttled with thick veins of ivy, and the path was heavy with mud. Rooks have been known to nest in nearby Cusgarne School but today they cawed above us, black shadows in the sky.

The path suddenly opened out into a tarmac area and we passed Calico Cottage before arriving at Hicks Mill Methodist Church, built in 1821, though the deeds go back to 1667 and there was once a corn mill on this site.

We peered through the windows of this well maintained building before walking through the car park out onto a road and turned immediately left, along a quiet road past Mount Pleasant Farm on the right. This led to another crossroads where we turned left. Over the granite bridge we turned left onto the official cycle trail from Devoran to Portreath; this is a smoother track, popular with cyclists of all ages and sizes. As we walked, two cyclists in red and yellow jerseys sped past, ringing their bells loudly.

We walked over another wooden bridge, and noticed red water flowing in the stream below: this was from heavy metals that leaked into the water when Wheal Jane mine flooded in 1991, leaching toxic mine waste that travelled as far as Restronguet Creek.

The ground opened up here into flat moorland with gorse, purple heather and blackberries in abundance – a natural buffet for myself and Mollie. Up on our right, disembodied voices floated down from the cement works that looked like an eerie James Bond set. Mount Wellington looked down from the left, and all around us was Bissoe Valley Nature Reserve owned by the Wildlife Trust. A restoration programme set up in 1986 has ensured that there is newly planted woodland, ponds and regenerating heathland in this area and we saw evidence of this: a pond with huge lemon coloured waterlillies in amongst the reeds, dragonflies and emerald damsel flies.

Further on we came to what looked like a solitary mine engine but is in fact what was left of the Point Mills Arsenic Refinery, that produced arsenic famous for its high quality throughout Europe. A plaque told us that the refinery operated for 100 years ending with the outbreak of World War Two.

Nearing the road we passed a field full of large rabbits which Mollie tried to chase, and a pony which she thankfully didn’t. We headed towards the road, turned left and immediately right to Bissoe Cycle Hire where we sat outside the café and enjoyed mugs of tea and slices of fruit cake, though their cream teas and flapjacks looked very tempting. Despite the proximity to the arsenic works!
Leaving the cycle hire behind, we headed onto a narrow and muddy path where the sun broke through the clouds and a flock of crows chattered above, followed by a solitary egret. Further on we saw a dragonfly, its turquoise wings glittering in the faint light, proof that the conservation efforts are working here.

Soon we forked right and met up with another bridlepath. This was smoother which made walking easier and a little further on we hit the official cycle trail. To our right towered a mine waste dump which my friend said she had played on as a child. Not something that would be allowed in these health and safety conscious days!
We finally arrived back at Wheal Andrew, turned right and walked along the road to the layby where we’d left the van. Mollie was covered in mud, but she gave a happy sigh and flopped into her basket, eyeing the bag of blackberries hopefully as we drove home.

This walk gives a real insight into one of the mining areas of Cornwall, undisturbed and ancient, where the air is heavy with history.

FACTBOX
Length: 3 1/4 miles
Time: 1 ½ - 2 hours
Grade: moderate but can be muddy in places so boots are advised
Maps: OS Explorer 104 Redruth & St Agnes
Refreshments: Available at Bissoe Tramways Cycle Hire.
Over 100 Bikes Open all year. Old Conns Works, Bissoe Truro, TR4 8QZ
Tel:- 01872 870341
Areas of historical/other interest: The old Mineral Tramways from Devoran to Portreath is an interesting ride for the average cyclist - the route follows what were working rail tracks that carried minerals (tin, copper etc) to the ancient quays at Devoran or the harbour at Portreath.
Mount Wellington Mine was once part of Wheal Jane and one of the last 3 working mines in Cornwall during the 1980s.

Childhood Haunts

The above picture is back view of me and my mum on the cliffs above Godrevy, my mother’s favourite beach as a child. (She's the little one.) It’s a very long beach of fine golden sand studded with high cliffs and huge rocks jutting out of the sea and the entire situation is dominated by a lighthouse which in Mum’s youth was still running manually.

We had a gusty walk along the cliffs then headed down to the beach where the tide was on its way out, revealing deep rock pools of slated blue and grey, studded with ruby sea anemones and shy limpets.

‘I learnt to swim in that one,’ said Mum, shedding her 78 years of age and skipping along the beach like a young girl. ‘Let’s go and walk along the beach down there.’

After about an hour, we returned to the car with one glowing mother and one knackered husband. Even Moll and I were blown to pieces and happily tired.

As we made our way round to St Ives, the sun came out drenching the streets with unseasonable warmth. Outside the Sloop pub people sunned themselves, turning their faces to the sky in astonishment. We stood outside wondering whether to go for coffee, but my stomach was rumbling.

‘I need to eat soon,’ I said. I get all panicky when my blood sugar level is low.

My mother looked at me. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We’ll go and have an early lunch.’

So we found a café where we could sit outside with Mollie, and devoured bowls of garlicky fish soup (for me and mum) and garlic and cheese bread for Himself. (The sort that’s nice at the time but leaves you incapable of eating anything else for the rest of the day.)

With a stomach full of soup I was able to relax. We finished our coffee and strolled across the beach with the other dog walkers, marvelling at the clarift of the cobalt sky, at the dimpled ridges of the sand. You can see why painters come here – the sheer brilliance of the light is breathtaking.

My mother chuckled as we watched a black spaniel puppy chasing its tail. ‘I can always tell when you need to eat,’ she said.

‘How?’ I said. ‘Do I go all pale or what?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘You go all sort of blotchy and anxious looking.’

I had to laugh at that. Thanks, Mum.

So if ever I get to meet any of you, you’ll know if I need feeding….