The Old One Comes to claim his own …

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An impromptu, innocent and gentle crepus­cular walk in the grounds of Trelissick turns into an unexpected action movie plot point: a monstrous kraken hauls itself from the mire and lumbers, clicking and creaking and groaning, fingers its way across the sward … and we run … and I tip my camera over my shoulder in the hope of … and we are free … well, derrr …

And then today I was wandering across the apoca­lytic wastes around Geevor and was reminded of the obsess­ively claustral, sepulchral aesthetic of the geolo­gical vampires of our recent past.

door to the underworld
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Friends who’ve come here say: it’s not pretty — no; it’s so fright­en­ingly, danger­ously hard — yes; it doesn’t let you forget, does it — no; but it still slips its mineral veins deep into your soul like brittle mycelium — oh yes.

And wherever you go, the Bucca are watching …

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You can fly to the furthest reaches of the globe and fuck the future of our world, and ignore the politics and the ecology and the economics and … and gawp at the natural wonders of the world and tick off your bucket list scores or you can look around yourself, here and now, orient yourself and choose to belong and see the beauty and the depth and the magic of the place where you stand … and …

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cobble together a collage of 6 photos and try to say something about us, people, and the earth, and about the sea and history and hardship and pain and about home.

On the Rocks

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Asleep at the helm … a not-so-subtle Brexit reference … the wreck of the RMS Mulheim which ran aground in Gamper Bay near Lands’ End in 2003, when the chief officer tripped, fell, banged his head and passed out. She was eventually broken up and thrust into Castle Zawn where she remains.

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A partic­u­larly dull photo­graph of the Long Ships Light­house on Carn Bras off Land’s End. That is … until you look at it full size and see the Scillies on the horizon. A full 28 miles away but clear as day … never had such visib­ility here.

gull rock
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Enys Dodnan … home of the handsome, fearsome black-backed gulls.

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Slit arch at Nanjizal Cove.

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Beautiful, filthy waterfall on to the beach.

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On the inland route back to Sennen we foraged for deliciously ripe sloes, filling our empty lunch box with future christmas cheer. The fennel vodka is already maturing … nom nom nom.

corn flowers
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Incredibly intense cornflower blue … cornflowers at the side of the path, Centaurea cyanus.
And eventually, safe back in harbour … long before sunset for once.

Storm’s blowin’ in

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Filling the sky in the south and east … can feel it coming — a heavy blast of hot humid air blowing before it. Appar­ently it’s not going to be too bad, just very wet but we’re a little exposed up here and they always makes us anxious. I suppose we could all do with the water but … and but — dribs and drabs would be so dull, damp and English
Leccy off in the studio this evening I think.

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Beauty and the Beast.
The dipsacus all over the farm are all doing their beauti­fully raggedy rising tide flowering at the moment.
But beware those thorns — they’re lethal.

Horrible Humans

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Humans are uniquely crap — unique in the natural world — we alone deplete our habitats to the point of our own destruction … errr … or not.

gull rocks
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This week’s high point was Penhale Point looking at the uniquely-named Gull Rocks … errr … or not. I have noticed a certain lack of imagin­ation or perhaps just a plain liter­alness in Cornish nomen­clature.

antenna 1
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One of the many beautiful engin­eering install­a­tions in and around the army camp.

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Purposeful, beautiful and Brutalist. Bond villain lair cum power station. I could live there.

antenna 2
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Looking back, North East, to Trevose Head.

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The wild thyme was covered in hundreds of gorgeous cinnabar moths … which are not as easy to catch on camera as you might think.
Their stunning yellow and black hooped cater­pillars infest ragwort — I remember them from childhood summers in Wales — and infest is the word — to such an extent that few survive to adulthood as they rapidly exhaust their food supply and resort to canni­balism. Charming.
How quaintly human of them.
So we’re not unique after all? I’m shocked. We’re as natural as cancer.

Trebarwith Strand

The forecast was wonderful and yet … once on the road … oh the wind and the rain. Aye aye aye.

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So, after lunch, we just kept going, chasing the fleeting gleams of sun and blue sky.

gull rock
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The lovely day eluded for an age and miles and miles … but we were exploring by now … there’s something almost maniacally addictive about un-mapped cruising, choosing the smallest road, the steepest hill, the darkest vale … the un-signed fork in the road. And so we “discovered” Trebarwith Strand and Gull Rock. Another hidden gem … honestly. Well, it was new to us … and early in the season — wonder­fully quiet.

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The great thing about Cornwall is that you can never really get lost. You can get quite anxious, feel as though you’re in the middle of nowhere and then you see the sea. Facing North; turn left — south; turn right … sorted. There’s only a couple of places you really wouldn’t want to run out of fuel. I would never say where. But … they WILL eat you. Seriously.

We declined even to dip our toes in the water and, as the tide was high and rising, we scaled and clambered around the shattered rocks and cliffs.

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And then, when the sun did finally come out … OMG … the light was beautiful.

sun and sea
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And so … from the Top

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So tempting. Last night … long after sunset. Spinning … dizzying … promising a cleansing dip into the whirlpool.

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First day back on shift — man cold has wiped me out for nine days — sheesh.
And a short walk is as much exercise as I can handle.
Wandering along forgotten paths … spring already lush even without rain.

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Sorry, couldn’t resist …

What do you do?

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Cape Cornwall and the Brisons towards the end of a beautiful day — appar­ently “Britain” is going to get this weather tomorrow, whatever.

But, as N says: did people hear that WWII had been declared … and then just carry on frying onions for dinner? I suppose. Everyone just got to, try to, live. Fuck. I dunno. Take peace where you can find it, hold the line and keep the torch burning and all that shit, and fight a bit, where you can, and then go for a fucking walk, and make some food and think and feel and … you still got to go to work in the morning shit … take it where you can and don’t forget how lucky you are, I suppose. And don’t forget. And live.