2023/32. WORDS, BY THE THOUSANDS, FROM CORNWALL

Some days you wake up knowing you will be changed by the time you fall back in bed. This was one of those days. It’s one of the beauties of visiting new people and new places. 

For being a dreamer, I do not have a marked case of wanderlust. I guess I like home. But once I’m finally in a new place I am usually grateful and walk away with treasured memories. 

We made the wise decision to hire a tour guide to show us around Cornwall today. Barry is a seasoned Cornish driver. In fact, he was assigned for a few seasons to drive the main characters in the most recent Poldark series on PBS to and from their various film locations each day. Before he was a driver, he was a lobsterman, fishing for lobster in the cold waters surrounding Cornwall with his father. And, lucky for us, he is a lover of history. So, while he drove us through the narrow streets of Cornwall, up and down the hillsides, harbor towns and moors on one lane roads lined with centuries old hedgerows, he taught us. It is so late now, and my bones ache, and everyone else is asleep. I will save this day in photographs taken on the tiny handheld computer with which I chat on the phone. Captions offer a little more detail. Thankfully, if a picture paints a thousand words, you won’t have to read the words themselves to get the story.

When I am done, I will tuck my eternally chilled feet under the down blanket that David will have made warm for me and go to sleep a changed woman.

First, a tidbit of information: By Tre-Pol-Pen, ye shall know all Cornishmen. Our guide was named Barry Pengilly. He explained that Cornish names will begin with either Tre, Pol, or Pen. These surname prefixes indicated the location of the home. Tre meaning a settlement or homestead. Pol indicates a pond, lake or even a well. And Pen indicates a hill or headland.  Cornish surnames and placenames are usually pronounced with emphasis on the second syllable. So, Barry’s family once resided on a hill or hillside. The golf club where we are staying the night is called Trevose, a former homestead. And no doubt Ross Poldark, if he had been real, would have had a lake or pond on his property.

Now, on to the pictures that will paint the thousand words I am too weary to write:

Cornwall, below Devon,
is the southernmost part of mainland England.

My view of Barry, a Cornish treasure.

The golf course that overlooks the sea.
A bit too windy, says Dave.
(Though, if I were not here I suspect he would have given it a go.)

The harbor at St. Ives.

Cobblestone passageways.

Wild ponies on the moor.

Where there are not hedgerows, there are stone fences 
dividing farms and crops. In this area the walls are of granite,
because that is what the soil churns up.
People used what was indigenous. In other parts of the country they used slate.

"Old" in America is "young" in the UK.

A darling little lass in rubber boots and
a woolen sweater digs wistfully through
toy bins in Mousehole
(pronounced Moosle)

Remnant of one of hundreds of tin mines.
Beneath this country is a maze of mine tunnels,
like a human anthill.

Penzance

Land's End. The westernmost point of Great Britain.

Pretend a pirate plumaged this place.
Penzance.

Ruins from an old tin mine.
Arsenic was harvested from the residual gasses
in the smelting process. It was sold for rat poisoning
and for use in women's makeup.

What was called Wheal Leisure (Will Ledger) Mine
in the Poldark series.

Wheal Leisure up close.

Penzance.

Large lures hang in the harbor at Mousehole

The tide rises in the harbor hold in Mousehole.
An hour ago these boats sat on sand.

Barry and the band.
(a cold and windy day, but the rain held, so we were pleased.

But that wind... Brrrr... almost blew us over.
Longrock.

The last living piece of the most recently used tin mine,
closed in the 1980's.

The water and the sky danced beautifully together all day long.

I found this beautiful man on my walk to St Ives....

... and brought him home with me.

And this girl, who looks an awful lot like me,
was discovered shopping along the way.
I brought her home, too.

At the end of the day we slipped down to Padstow for dinner.

Gorse plant, with its golden flowers,
grows wild on the moors....

... and water grows wild in the sea.

Nothing, not broken knees or dropped foot,
will stop this gal from living her full life.

Penzance/ Botallak

The road we travelled.

...and the views we saw.
Constantly.
Like a beauty overdose.

A colorful fellow and his yellow ferret.

Two colorful fellows in blue down jackets.

The gate to a colorful garden.

Some colorful folk at the edge of the sea.

The hedgerows are coming to green soon.
Barry says some hedgerows here are 500-1,000 years old.

My person.

Remains of the sweltering houses of a tin mine.

Roads we travelled...

...and rows of rock houses leaning against narrow highways...,

...and beloved persons to travel beside...

... with magical gardens tucked in everywhere...

...and cotton candy skies overhead

... in safe harbors...

These are the journeys we keep in our memory books.

Cornwall, April 1, 2023.