Keep Up To Date: At the end of a post, tick the box "Notify me of follow-up comments via email" to keep informed of who says what on a particular item.
The Horror In The Treetops is an atmospheric Lovecraft/Call of Cthulhu horror LARP (Live Action Roleplay) based in a sprawling 20 acre manor estate in Mullion, west Cornwall. Each game takes place over a period of four days.
- David Sharrock .
A mate of mine is setting this up, following on from his experience with playing the incredible 2.8 Hours Later. However rather than being chased around by hordes of screaming zombies, this will be more about atmosphere and the building of tension through play and environment. He’s recruited actors and is in process of finalising arrangements with the venue – a spooky manor house in a remote part of west Cornwall. There’s room for 6 people so it’ll be first come first play.
.
THE LOCATION:
Mullion parish is also important historically, with evidence of prehistoric burial mounds, Celtic crosses and ancient chapel sites, and in more recent times evidence of copper and china clay mining and a World War II airfield at Predannack
The name, Mullion, is believed to derive from the Saint who gives his name to the Parish Church, Melanus. St Mellanus was Bishop of Rennes in Brittany. The name was first recorded in the 13th century.
The current parish church building dates from the 15th century and includes a 13th font and numerous ancient carved bench ends.
.
INFORMATION FROM WEBSITE:
The Treetops Estate is situated in the heart of unique and hauntingly mysterious Cornish countryside with nearly 20 acres of atmospheric gardens and grounds perfectly suited to the subtle yet period specific brand of Lovecraft horror. Inhabited since the Stone Age, Treetops sits at the centre of its own secret wooded valley near historic Mullion Cove and is one of the oldest and most isolated estates in Britain.
The Horror in the Treetops is a live action (LARP) horror running over a long weekend (players arrive Friday evening, playing through Sunday to leave Monday lunchtime).
The images below show various aspects of the estate. Much of the game will take place outdoors on uneven ground. Players should be prepared to do plenty of walking and exploring!
Mercutio House (the team’s base for the duration)
The Clocktower
The trees are strange – worshipped by the ancients according to superstition and folklore
Peacocks stand sentinel while the treetops are filled with the eery cawing of ravens
The boundary of the 20 acre Treetops estate where the game takes place, a secure environment completely isolated from the general public.
Launched my 6th novel today – Living in Flames. More horror than Sci-Fi but still set in the near-future Cyberpunk universe shared by all my other books. You can download a press release for it here.
Meanwhile, I went for my old-faithful walk around the harbourside this morning to clear my head; drove into the city with the roof down, the first warm sunny day of the year – pure bliss, and did an easy three miles… except, rather than clear my head I had this surge of brain activity and managed to formulate an entire plot for a novel in 45 minutes. Hurried to a cafe at the end of the walk and scribbled it down in my leather-bound notebook from Santiago. Whole story fits onto one sheet of notepaper – so a lot of fleshing out to do but I was so excited by the idea I rang my friend and creative confidant, Mr Halliday. Even he was excited after I ranted at him for five minutes. I’m calling it the Camaraderie of Wolves and it’s going to be about the Sim-Stim industry (next generation movie & entertainment technology) in the world of Yellow Dawn. What do survivors want from mass-media entertainment? Or rather, what risks will the corporations take to give people what they “think” they want?
Despite my enthusiasm I’m going to have to chew on my pencils for a bit and wait. The next novel lined up to write is called Oakfield, a Sci-Fi Dark Fantasy horror story set in Cornwall featuring the Cthulhu Mythos critters Mi-Go (Fungi from Yuggoth).
Oakfield ¦ the planned next novel by science fiction & dark fantasy author David J Rodger – where crustaceous horrors The Mi-go will terrorise a small Cornish township
Proposed cover concept for Oakfield - Image and manipulation by Hagenland Photography
I’m currently deep into an 8 month overhaul of Yellow Dawn – The Age of Hastur, with a view to launching an updated version (2.5) early in 2012. After that I’m looking forward to releasing (or unleashing) the second of the two novels I wrote in 2010, Living in Flames; the first being DOG EAT DOG, the post-apocalyptic thriller set in the world of Yellow Dawn. Next in the plan is to compile an anthology of the cyberpunk, sci-fi & dark fantasy and gritty horror shorts I’ve put down over the past few years. And then… finally, I’ll be able to turn my hand to producing a new work of science fiction and dark fantasy: Oakfield.
The story is already mapped out in a mass of hastily scrawled pen and paper notes, so hopefully I’m looking at a 6 month turnaround from start to finish; fingers crossed it’ll be out before the world implodes within a cataclysmic Mayan ending in 2012. The bare bones of the novel is about Annabel Spaulding, travelling to a picturesque but isolated community of Oakfield to investigate the house her recently deceased grandfather left to her; only she rapidly begins to suspect her grandfather’s death was no accident and soon learns there are human agents of a monstrous, unspeakable and cosmic terror lurking within the township. These brutal men want something that she now posses and will seemingly stop at nothing to get it; but what is it they want, and what are…They…? I’m hoping to satisfy fans of H.P.Lovecraft’s Whisperer in the Darkness and introduce the uninitiated to the unrestrained, unspeakable horrors that seethe and writhe within this unexploited strata of fiction: the Cthulhu Mythos.
LIVING IN FLAMES: Set in Bristol, UK, in the near future, it follows the lives of three people that collide in a gruesome twist of fate. A carved African idol is discovered clutched in the hands of a dead man who is barely human. Greed unlocks centuries-tarnished mystery about the origins of the idol and brings back to Bristol a banished bloodline hell-bent on vengeance and diabolical glory. You can grab a sneak preview of first chapter here. Due for publication Summer 2012.
Tracking down scenes from the world of Agatha Christie and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
So it was my birthday and I’d been stroking my chin to come up with something I’d like to do. Jo, my partner and editor, had just bought herself a cream coloured convertible VW-Beetle, so the idea of a road-trip was at the forefront of suggestions. Jo knows I’m a complete nut for Poirot and for the Hound of the Baskervilles. Devon and Cornwall became the destination, and things Agatha and Conan Doyle became our target. This is by no means a comprehensive or serious in-depth study of these two fantastic writers, rather it is a travel blog covering a small part of the amazing atmosphere and stunning locations that saturates this wonderful and yet small part of the British Isles.
view of Greenway Estate from River Dart, owned by Agatha Christie
Drove to Totness to see the remains of a small Norman castle and stroll through its narrow medieval streets; then on to Dartmouth a few miles away.
Agatha Christie lived at Greenway and no doubt read out many of her new stories as she produced them. The location was first mentioned in 1493 as Greynway. Later, in the 16th century a Tudor mansion was built and called Greenway Court. The present house is Georgian and was probably built in the late 18th century. Agatha Christie purchased it in 1938 and she occupied it until her death in 1976.
Greenway and its surroundings are used in several of Christie’s novels.
Five Little Pigs (1942): The house and the path leading to the battery overlooking the river Dart, and the battery itself which is the location of the murder.
Towards Zero (1944): The location of the house and its estate in relation to the village on the opposite side of the river Dart.
Dead Man’s Folly (1956): The boat house is detailed as the location of the first victim being discovered; the nearby ferry landing is where the next, and intended murder victim, is dragged into the water to be drowned. Also the greenhouse and the tennis court where Mrs. Oliver placed set up a trail of clues and red herrings.
OMG, Dartmouth…what an incredible place! The atmosphere is fantastic. We parked up and jumped onto a river boat that took us for a tour up and down the Dart, passing a number of interesting locations and explaining much of the local history with ancient and royal connections. Also sailed past Agatha Christie’s place and that was actually very special. The essence of Poirot was here, in the trees, in the water… in every line of sight and angle of view.
Dartmouth was used as a launch point for the Crusades in the mid and late 12th Century. Warfleet Creek, near to Dartmouth Castle is supposedly named after the large fleets which assembled there.
Geoffrey Chaucer visited Dartmouth during the late 14th Century and included it in his Canterbury Tales:
A schipman was ther, wonyng fer by weste; For ought I wost, he was of Dertemouthe.
In medieval times Dartmouth was rife with pirates, but these were privateers… licensed or sanctioned by the state.
In the early 1600′s, the Pilgrim Fathers put into Dartmouth, sailing the Speedwell and the Mayflower, on their way from Southampton to America. After leaving they discovered the Speedwell was unseaworthy and were forced to return to Plymouth, and from there they departed for their historic journey in just the Mayflower. Henry Hudson put into Dartmouth on his return from America.
Sir Francis Drake has strong connections to Dartmouth. When the Spanish Armada threatened England, Dartmouth sent out many ships to join the counter attack; a Spanish ship was taken intact and then anchored in the river Dart, its captured crew used as slave labour on the nearby Greenway Estate. Greenway was the home of Sir Humphrey Gilbert and his half-brother Sir Walter Raleigh, and later became the home of Agatha Christie.
view of river Dart near to Greenway Estate
Heading up the river Dart. A view that Agatha Christie would have enjoyed many times, as would have Sir Francis Drake.
Royal Castle Hotel in Dartmouth
Built in 1639, the Royal Castle Hotel had a new facade added in the 1800s, although the original still lies beneath. There are not many rooms. The interior has the almost film-set like quality about it. It’s certainly hosted many a famous movies star and its name is a result of the historical royalty who have stayed there: Cary Grant, Queen Victoria, Edward VII and Sir Francis Drake have all enjoyed hospitality there. The place hold’s a deep pervasive sense of the age and incredible history of the building. Wonderful hotel to stay in and I would highly recommend it to anyone visiting Dartmouth. They also run Murder Mystery nights a couple times a year with a professional theatre group.
They even have a haunting…
internal staircase at Royal Castle Hotel, Dartmouth
The central staircase is covered by a glass atrium above and looks down through the core of the building, with quaint little landings at dispersed levels. The coffee and sofa area you can see to the right is halfway between two levels. Very atmospheric and a great place to relax with drinks after dinner.
It is also the area that once contained the open courtyard separating the two buildings that later merged into one lodging house. And it’s here, in the darkest hours of the mornings when summer’s warm grasp is wrestled away by chill winds and falling leaves, that the sounds of a coach and many horses have roused modern-day guests. The source of this phantom presence has been ascribed to the year 1688 when William and Mary, in the wake of James II flight into exile, returned to England to take the throne. William had planed to land at Dartmouth but a storm forced him to put in a Torbay; Mary had already arrived and lodged in the hotel, which at that point was still comprised of two houses sharing the courtyard. William dispatched a coach to collect Mary which arrived not long into the Witching Hours… and continues to do so, with the sound of hooves clattering over cobblestones, the whinnying of horses and the crack of a whip. Nothing malevolent, just eerie.
view of Dartmouth from the Royal Castle Hotel
View from our dinner table that night. Looking out across what was once the new quay in 1637, now enclosed by more modern structures. The station restaurant is actually a railway station that was built but then never used when the proposed tracks never materialised, due to a dispute with landowners. The pastel coloured buildings in the distance are all on the other side of the river and reside not in Dartmouth but in Kingswear. Look at the amazing detail on the building to the right…
example of Tudor style in Dartmouth
.
view of the mouth of the river Dart
A view of the mouth of the Dart. The Royal Navy used Dartmouth as a base from the reign of Edward III; after twice being overrun by rogue ships during the Hundred Years’ War the mouth of the estuary was sealed-off every night by a vast, and I mean vast, chain. This was made possible by the narrow width of the mouth of the Dart, which is also protected by two fortified castles, Dartmouth Castle and Kingswear Castle.
Dartmouth
One of the many narrow and ancient stone stairwells that slice steeply through this very vertical town.
Young man leaps from ancient building into harbour
Dartmouth
Dartmouth
.
Kingswear
This is a zoom snap I took of the far side from where I was sitting with my pint of Otter real-ale. Kingswear looks like a lovely place. I’m intending on coming back to Dartmouth later this year, doing a murder mystery night and then taking the ferry across the Dart to Kingswear, where you can catch a reconditioned steam train to Totness, 30 minutes away, crossing several viaduct built by Isambard K Brunel, and back again. Great weekend away, I reckon.
the Butterwalk
Dartmouth is still a tiny place, despite it’s age and popularity; it’s a fusion of medieval and Elizabethan streets sliced through by narrow cobbled-lanes and weathered stone stairways. There’s a ton of listed historic buildings, one of the most impressive being the Butterwalk, built in the mid-1600′s. An ornately carved wooden facade held aloft on stone columns. To give you an idea of the staggering history of this building alone, Charles II held court there in 1671 after being driven into Dartmouth by wild storms.
George and Dragon old pub sign in Dartmouth
.
view from room at the Royal Castle Hotel
History and beauty combined. This is the view from our hotel room. And to give you an idea of how small and quaint Dartmouth remains after several centuries of popularity, the hotel is in the centre of the town… and this is the view from the back. We left after a hearty “Castle Breakfast” (amazing!) and drove further down the coast to our next destination as we tracked down creations of Agatha Christie…
Burgh Island, Devon, original 1930s hotel and location used in Agatha Christie Evil Under the Sun
This incredible authentic and immaculately maintained art deco hotel dates back to the 1930s and was the inspiration for Agatha Christie’s story, Evil Under the Sun… where Poirot is shipped off to a health spa only to discover a murder taking place on a nearby beach. It’s a brilliant story. The hotel is situated on a nearby island that you can walk to during low-tide, but once the water comes in the only way to reach it is by sea-tractor – an item that features in David Suchet’s portrayal of Poirot for the filming of this story.
The space between the mainland and Burgh Island is known as Bigbury beach and as far back as the 5th century AD, Britons were swapping local tin and iron for wine, oil and spices with Mediterranean traders. Over the coming millenia the Island was occupied by monks until, in the 1700′s, smugglers and wreckers used the Island as a hideaway.
The first hotel was built in 1895 by music hall singer George Chirgwin. This dark green wooden building sits before the current hotel, now used as staff accommodation. The white art deco structure was completed in the 1930s.
You can view more information about the hotel here.
Sea Tractor (scene from Evil Under the Sun, starring David Suchet as Poirot)
.
David Suchet as Poirot and Captain Hastings take the Sea Tractor to Burgh Island
Notice the hotel in the background.
Here’s a clip of this particular episode, via YouTube
.
Burgh Island, Devon
There’s a fantastic pub on the island. Great landlord, very eccentric but funny with it and they serve good local ale. The sea tractor is available to anybody who needs to use it once the tide is up, only £2 each way. Bargain.
a windswept tree on blustery Burgh Island, Devon
.
Gates of original 1930s hotel on Burgh Island
Sadly, but understandably, when you reach the hotel access is restricted to residents only. It makes sense, in that if you’ve paid £400-600 for a night there you don’t want your idyllic seclusion ruined by every tom, dick and sci-fi / dark fantasy author wandering through. Great place to visit regardless.
Onwards and deeper through Devon and then into Cornwall we plunged…
St Michael's Mount as viewed from Marazion
St Michael’s Mount is a great place to visit. Steeped in ancient history. It’s likely to have been the site of a monastery in the 8th century.
In the 11th century, Edward gave it to the abbey of Mont Saint-Michel in Normandy; today both locations are almost identical to each other.
St Michael's Mount in Cornwall at Sunset
.
a schooner flying red sail anchored off Cornish coast and St Michael's Mount
although this place isn’t associated with Christie the red flag on the boat reminded of a small part of the plot in Evil under the Sun; appropriate considering the theme of our journey down here.
Dartmoor
The moors have always held an eerie fascination for me, possibly because of my introduction to the fantastic tale of terror by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle: the Hound of the Baskervilles. They remind me of black and white movies that I used to watch on the small portable TV I’d take to dad’s office when he worked well past midnight, during the 1980′s: Peter Cushing, Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Lon Chaney Jr… classic horror films.
Here on Dartmoor, areas where the heavy rainfall is unable to drain away become boggy, and some of them have achieved notoriety; most notable is Fox Tor Mires, supposedly the inspiration for Great Grimpen Mire the Baskervilles novel.
Dartmoor - stone bridge across the source of the river Dart
The village was bisected by the River Dart. Hard to imagine this is the same river that ends up running past Greenway Estate, where Sir Francis Drake sailed and where Agatha Christie wrote.
Dartmoor
Further on we pulled over to gaze at the incredible vastness of the moors as they stretch away in all directions; bleak, on the whole but still beautiful for it. And then there are little spots like this. Three trees standing together like sentinels guarding some secret place; there was a wonderful energy here in this little spot, I could have stayed there for ages… a small shallow gully beyond lined with lavender. The place has really stuck in my mind.
Stepping into the area everything became hushed as if some great silence were hanging over the place. Truly magical and I could easily visualise druids or some such using the area to commune with elementals and Earth-spirits.
the best cream tea in the world: The Gateway Tearoom, Mortenhampstead, Dartmoor
Pushing further east towards the far edge of Dartmoor we came across the small township of Moretonhampstead. Then we saw this incredible tea room on the corner and as we cruised past, jaws hanging open, a car vacated the only free car parking space in the town… right outside. It was another sign – much like our experience of perfectly connected events in Dartmouth a couple days earlier. Stepping inside was like stepping into a bubble of calm, quiet politeness… and the promise of good food and hot beverages. It is a bit prim and proper but I enjoy slipping into the various roles that society can expect, although secretly I was also thinking of Withnail and I…
A traditional cream tea is a scone, clotted cream and jam. I prefer mine with coffee; I also went for the fruit scone which were definitely home made on the premises, still-warm, and very very delicious.
Moretonhampstead is considered to be the gateway to the high moor and began as a small Saxon settlement around 700 AD. The town was granted its royal charter by King John in 1207 AD; interestingly the rent was set as one sparrow hawk per year.
The Gateway Tearoom occupies a building that dates from the mid-1500′s.
I’d highly recommend any trip to the Moors should include a visit to Moretonhampstead and to this wonderful little slice of Anglo-Saxon and Norman history: 17 New Street, Moretonhampstead, Devon, TQ13 8PE
And so finally Jo and I return home, to Cosy Castle and the comfort of familiarity with fresh and fun memories swirling around our brains. Cornwall and Devon are only a couple hours drive down the road from this city but it’s as if they’re another world away. Both very magical places and spaces.
For me, being back was a chance to unpack my birthday diary and scribble down the highlights of the year I spent being 40 years old. I was given this diary of blank hand-made paper in 1991, when I was 21, by my longest-standing friend Richy L. I thought it was wonderfully simply idea and I’ve stuck to writing in it, religiously, every year on my birthday since receiving it. Which means that rather than pages and pages of waffle and blogs and old typewritten diaries printed out on sheets of discarded paper, I have this one unique, concise summary of my important years to date.
By way of explanation, Richy suffers from dyslexia.
.
You might also like these:
“Murder at Sharky Point” – a deadly dinner party mystery game for 6 or more players – click
Tracking down scenes from the world of Agatha Christie and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in Devon and Cornwall wp.me/pTAKk-1G7— David Rodger (@davidjrodger) September 06, 2011
CORNWALL, ENGLAND: This is a short video giving you a snapshot view of Tredethy Country House, where I spent a week, writing and working on Yellow Dawn; plus a glimpse of Padstow harbour and then Tintagel Castle.
Around 4pm I arrived at the hotel. It was just beyond a small village ominously enough called Helland, right on the edge of the Moors. Before I got there I was thinking, Oh God, please don’t be like the Leviathan hotel in New Zealand… a real horror show, but, no, my slight fears were totally unfounded. As soon as I finished the 20% incline, twisting round and round the tight curves of a hill, I pulled off the narrow road through twin stone gateposts onto a vast gravel drive and caught sight of the wonderful stone structure sitting astride a level area with lawn and forested grounds sloping away. I thought of Corso, in the 9th Gate, arriving at the Chateau St. Martin. I parked up and wandered across to the front door. No sight of any reception. It didn’t seem like a hotel at all. Did I have the right place? The door was locked. A sign said, “Between Noon and 4pm please ring bell”. So I did. Then a very attractive Italian woman comes down, greets me, welcomes me, and guides me upstairs… through amazing high-ceilinged rooms, up a gargantuan oak staircase, around a passageway and up smaller stairs into the roof area. There were only two rooms up here, both massive, with en-suite shower/bathroom, and a comfortable lounge attached to each. The windows overlooked the grounds, the forest descending the hill and climbing up the other side of the close valley… hills.. forest.. sky… clouds. Beautiful. Perfect. I was here for the next six nights.
The hotel is called Tredethy Country House, postcode, PL30 4QS
It’s not a glossy corporate brochure. It’s a well-appointed house with crumpled edges: and it’s these things that give it so much character.
Marco isn’t a servile English gent. He’s a proud man who works his arse off to run the place very well with a small crew. He can come across as blunt but he’s just being direct and very much left-field. He’s a character that slots into the vibe of the place. I spent a lot of time downstairs in one of the lounges chatting with him, often late into the night and I was genuinely sad to say goodbye at the end of the trip.
When I wasn’t chatting with Marco, or out bouncing around Cornwall, I spent every morning and every evening camped in a big armchair by a tall narrow window overlooking the grounds, with a supply of coffee and my paper notepad and print outs in my lap. I’ve been working on the next phase for Yellow Dawn. A lot of good ideas but it means pushing back starting Dog Eat Dog (again!) until I can get all the concepts down in black and white. Not a bad thing though, as it means I’ll be able to weave these fleshed out ideas into the book.
Then to Padstow. An evening there watching the sun set over the harbour whilst a local brass band played out. Padstow’s a fantastic place to spend a day or so.
Then to Tintagel Castle:
More a pile of ruins on an impressive set of cliffs, it’s certainly worthwhile doing. Be prepared for the leg-burning climb back up to town from the bottom of the castle complex.
Only three of the many many reasons why you should make the effort to visit Cornwall. One of many treasures of this tiny island – the UK.
CORNWALL, ENGLAND: July. One of the most important trips of my life. A chance to give mum some happy memories before she died.
My mum and sister flew down from Newcastle last Tuesday. A fun evening indoors then croissants and coffee for breakfast. A slow, lazy start. Then pile everything into car and head further South and further West. Through Devon and into Cornwall. Roads shrink to tracks barely wide-enough to squeeze a car through with tall hedgerows either side and dense overhanging tree limbs increasing the sense of being caught in some tunnel. Here’s some highlights.
Arrival
Arrive hotel around 4pm. It was just beyond a small village ominously enough called Helland, right on the edge of the Moors. Before we got there I was thinking, Oh God, please don’t be like the Leviathan hotel in New Zealand… a real horror show, but, no, my slight fears were totally unfounded. As soon as we finished the 20% incline, twisting round and round the tight curves of a hill, we pulled off the narrow road through twin stone gateposts onto a vast gravel drive and caught sight of the wonderful stone structure sitting astride a level area with lawn and forested grounds sloping away. I thought of Corso, in the 9th Gate, arriving at the Chateau St. Martin. We parked up and wandered across to the front door. No sight of any reception. It didn’t seem like a hotel at all. Did we have the right place? The door was locked. A sign said, “Between Noon and 4pm please ring bell”. So we did. Then a very attractive Italian woman comes down, greets us, welcomes us, and guides us upstairs… through amazing high-ceilinged rooms, up a gargantuan oak staircase, around a passageway and up smaller stairs into the roof area. There were only two rooms up here, both massive, with en-suite shower/bathroom, and a comfortable lounge attached to each. The windows overlooked the grounds, the forest descending the hill and climbing up the other side of the close valley… hills.. forest.. sky… clouds. Beautiful. Perfect. We were here for the next four nights.
Google it and you’ll get images and a map view of the surrounding terrain.
It’s owned and run by Marco and his wife.
It’s not a glossy corporate brochure. It’s a well-appointed house with crumpled edges: and it’s these things that give it so much character.
Marco isn’t a servile English gent. He’s a proud man who works his arse off to run the place very well with a small crew. He can come across as blunt but he’s just being direct and very much left-field. He’s a character that slots into the vibe of the place. I spent a lot of time downstairs in one of the lounges chatting with him, often late into the night and I was genuinely sad to say goodbye at the end of the trip.
When I wasn’t chatting with Marco, or out bouncing around Cornwall with Jo, Mum and Sis, I spent every morning and every evening camped in a big armchair by a tall narrow window overlooking the grounds, with a supply of coffee and my paper notepad and print outs in my lap. I’ve been working on the next phase for Yellow Dawn, which is the idea of the Age of Hastur actually beginning: the past 10 years, since Yellow Dawn actually happened, was a lull before the storm. A lot of good ideas but it means pushing back starting Dog Eat Dog (again!) until I can get all the concepts down in black and white. Not a bad thing though, as it means I’ll be able to weave these fleshed out ideas into the book.So a lot of good memories:
Walking down to Helland along the narrow, sharply winding, 20% descent, road, where the overarching tree canopy became so dense at times, it was like walking into night-like gloom… occasionally pierced by beams of golden sunlight. A bit hairy when a car came whizzing along.
Taking mum to Padstow and seeing the delight glowing within her eyes, beaming from the smile curving her lips. All her life she’s wanted to see Cornwall, and now she’s here. Mum flung her arms wide and walked along with a joyous swagger in her hips. It was a brilliant moment. I even took a photo. :o)
1st Night
1st night in hotel, getting a double-whisky from the small, very cosy bar (a serving hatch in a wall), settling down in an armchair with the alcohol hitting my system. Bliss.
Going to Tintadgel Castle. Clambering around the ruins perched on the edges of some fabulous cliffs. Descending steps that dropped almost vertically for a 100 metres or so.
Tintadgel Castle
Man contemplates medieval church
Remote medieval church
2nd Afternoon
2nd afternoon at the hotel. Glorious sunshine. My sister and I playing with a Frisbee on the manicured lawns in front of the country house. Then Marco’s family dog appeared on the scene… a small speed demon with a great human intelligence and a hunger for playing games. The dog had me running ragged to the point where I thought my heart and lungs were going to explode. I looked up at one point and saw lots of faces in different windows, all watching us, all smiling. Later in the afternoon I lay back in the grass and watched big fluffy clouds skimming the forested horizon, listening to La Roux and loving the whole 80s vibe.
Tredethy House – Chilled white wine on edge of the lawn
Painted by previous owner of Tredethy House – grandson of the King of Siam
Tredethy House – David J Rodger
Driving to Mevigissy in the rain. Impossibly narrow roads, cars and vans trying to squeeze between ancient stone buildings, BOTH WAYS?!!?, and climbing an impossibly steep cliff with houses either side… just an insane drive. Parking up and wandering through the old fishing village; pungent smell of seaweed by the harbour. Mum, Sis and Jo finding a café whilst I clipped in my headphones and went striding. I found myself at the end of a stone pier, standing in the rain, with nothing but the Atlantic Ocean around me. Fantastic. Thoughtful.
British Road Sign – Slow Down for Fox Sake
Stopping off at Restormel Castle on the way back from Mevigissy, simply because I’d seen it in a brochure in a cafe there and thought, cool, I’d like to see that. And was able to plot a route back that took us by it.
Lostwithiel – Restormel Castle
Going to a port further West from Newquay, on the north coast of Cornwall. More rain which didn’t even dent our high spirits. Mum bought a bright red plastic mac. She called it a Kagoogull, rather than a kagool. Laughter all around and the name stuck. All of us found a place with a ton of delicious looking pasties piled up in the window. We took our hot wares back out into the rain and huddled in a doorway, munching with smiles on our rain-soaked faces. I’d grabbed a sausage roll. It was the best sausage roll…ever. The gang split up. I clipped in headphones and went striding across vast beach. Surfers everywhere. Rain came down harder. I waded through a stream of water, shin deep but not caring. Jagged cliffs, gaping holes carved by the sea. Click click click goes my camera.
Cornish beach in the rain
Cornwall – quaint town pub
Cornish harbour
Smuggler steps
Back to Padstow one afternoon. More rain. Buying fish and chips from Rick Stein’s. I was cynical but they turned out to be the best fish and chips I’d ever had. We sat in the car, facing the sea, windows steaming up, smell of vinegar… we were all grinning.
Tredethy House hotel – family dog Rosie meets new guests
This was my first time visiting Cornwall, and all I can say is “wow!”
Plunging South and West in the car a remix of Jimmy Sommerville / Communards track came on the radio and became a theme tune of this trip. 20 years since I last listened to it on the radio, driving through deep woodland with my dad up North…and getting a magical atmospheric vibe from it back then that still lingers with the remix today. Awesome.
.
I love Cornwall. Simple as that. Got to our target destination around 7.30pm, found a campsite (idyllic little place), pitched up then drove into a medieval town overlooked by St Michael’s Mount. Had a couple drinks sitting on bench tables outside, the water lapping against the wall below.
.
2006 – Cornwall – St Michaels Mount – Oj
July: Next morning woke up with bit of a thumping head but it didn’t last long. Grabbed yummy bacon and egg rolls from the small shop at the campsite, then headed back to the medieval village… now baking in a roasting heat. The causeway was flooded so we grabbed a simple ferry across. You can see the causeway under the water, snaking its way back to shore. The island has a small man-made bay, a couple rows of houses and a very uneven cobblestone track that curves up and round the base of the cliffs.
.
Storm clouds materialised out of thin air and it rained briefly. Coming up the final curl of the ascent you’re suddenly struck by the appearance of the building ahead and above you. Clambering up a few large rock like steps you approach the steep entrance steps, then climb up inside a wonderful building that has multiple layers and atmospheres. Certainly a must-see visit. At one point you step outside onto a roof area and get the most incredible views of the surrounding ocean, the wind tugging at your whole body as you peer over the edge. Down below, on the cliff face are incredible gardens landscaped into the natural terraces of the cliffs. A frightening drop, however.
.
2006 – Cornwall
July: Coming down from the cliffs again we found the causeway was still flooded. Another 90 minutes before it would be clear of water. However, we’d seen a couple of people wading across, the water up to their waist. So I gave it a go. The water just nudging my nuts. It was really good fun and again, I’d recommend it to anybody whose made the effort to go to the island is time your return an hour or so before low tide, so you can wade back on your own steam.
.
2006 – Cornwall – St Michaels Mount
July: Another couple decided to approach the island.
Travelling through the amazing Cornwall (South West England) we stopped at St Ives. Sitting outside a pub the heat of the day settled into a humid, balmy evening. Storm clouds gathered as cool air rushed in from the sea. Lightning started jabbing this church on the distant hill. At least a dozen times. I caught one bolt here.
