Our epic journey began on that fateful,momentous late Sunday afternoon in October 2008 when a voice whispered in my ear,"Turn Around For One More Look" as I trudged up the coastal path out of Lamorna Cove.
I did so and,peering through the mist and gloom I espied that lonely cliffside cottage,overgrown,neglected,forgotten and forlorn. The For Sale sign itself green with moss and decay like the rest of the cottage and hanging drunkenly amidst the blackthorn.
I hadn't noticed it on my walk through the cove two hours before on my way to Dorminack,so why had I now?
It was my "There It Is" moment. A split second that I had been waiting for all of of my life that has forever changed the future.
In 1945 when Monica Baldwin,former Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin's niece saw her "Cottage In The Clouds" in person(she had seen it originally in an amazingly accurate vision that she had seen years before) it was just a one roomed building having existed for over a hundred years as a massively-walled granite blockhouse used to safely store the dynamite used for blasting in the granite nearby granite quarry-hence the name Magazine.
Moulded by nature and the elements with the natural constraints of the cliffside itself it has over time sent it's own granite roots deep into the bedrock fromed by cataclysmic earth movements over 350 million years ago. It had evolved,expanded and reformed to become part of the geology,as one with the enveloping rock,guarded and nurtured by the very granite it is bounded by and made from.
Many room have been added by natural selection. The cottage has gradually grown and sits snugly'perfectly allied with nature on it's granitic ledge high above Lamorna Cove,truly a "Cottage In The Clouds",it's windows like clear far-seeing eyes forever gazing benevolently over the restless ocean,lashed by wind- flung spray,battered by salty rain or bathed in warm sunshine,unceasing and immoveable.
Three years ago it was difficult to even see the cottage,overgrown as it was with Sycamore,briar,blackthorn and miles and miles of ivy entwining all.Abandoned and derelict,green and damp,falling apart,branches hung over the roof and poked through cracks,blackthorn sent it's fingers probing under roof tiles and huge vines of ivy writhed like giant pythons over moss-covered,flaking and grey masonry.
I knew there had to be a cottage that could be saved somewhere amid the chaos. I knew there had to be a heart-stopping view in there somewhere!
Yes I had a vision and like a man possessed(which I was-still am)I grabbed a machete,saw,axe,secateurs,anything and everything and with religious zeal set about slashing,cutting,sawing digging,tearing away decades of decay and overgrowth,unclothing the cottage and gardens.From dawn until dark every day I cleared all away.
Our Lost Gardens Of Lamorna were being reclaimed as was the cottage. The builder doing the renovations had spent three months at The Magazine before I arrived never realising that such a wondrous vista as I uncovered awaited discovery!As the cove and expanse of Atlantic Ocean opened up before us we were all stunned by its closness and its magnificence!
I set my sights upon a delapidated greenhouse on a ledge above the cottage.It was encircled by a girdle of monstrous ivy,vines thicker than my arm.I hacked and smashed for days!Hundreds of old plant pots and seed containers littlered the floor.Coloured glass bottles and mysterious rusted tools,moss-covered and decayed were everywhere.Much sweat,bruises and cursing later I had cleared the area,laid down gravel and installed the terrace and seating; The Owls nest we call it.It enjoys spectacular views over the cove towards Carn Dhu and The Lizard beyond and become a favourite spot to sit and wonder and enjoy the magnificent view in the afternoon sunshine.
The next target was a truly ancient shed halfway up the cliffside. Collapsed upon itself it's long-decayed boards green and rotten. What a treasure house it was! Old chocolate-brown bottles of ginger beer(full,but of what I did not taste to see),bright blue bottle of methylated spirits,empty(sadly)gin and brandy bottles,even a magnum of champagne lodged in a perfectly-contoured rock,old saucers,cups and crockery,rusty tools and galvanised buckets. A cornucopia of delights.
It is said that The Magazine once hosted very gay and well-attended parites. I believe it!
Eventually I salvaged what I could and cleared the area. We call it The Outlook.We can sit there for morning coffee,another magnificent view before us as the sun rises like a giant red orb out of the sea and over the black bulk of Carn Dhu and spreads fingers of yellow and red into the sky and casts it's glowing rays over the glistening sea.
The cliffside gardens are now walled,tired and relatively naked,too,bared for all to see their beauty. I have crawled through murky dark and earthy tunnels,whose inhabitants scuttled away as I advanced with my machete to bring light and air to their hidden dusky homes. I followed such long-hidden pathways for days.The garden is now full of ancient walkways,of granite drystone walls,of secret nooks and crannies and millenia-old caves.Who laboured so long and lovingly to hoist all the rocks and so skillfully create I have no idea but eveident that it was a labour of love as re-discovering them was for me and I would like to shake his hand. Work is difficult at The Magazine. The terrain is both difficuly and unforgiving and comforting and sublime all at the same time. When struggling up the cliff or perched upon a precarious outcrop one is lured into slothfullness and all work must stop to drink in the enchanting vista.
Early one morning I was down in the lane doing a little weeding.It was around 8am. By 6pm I had,little-by-little unearthed and exposed several immense granite walls-a series of towering rock buttresses rising steeply from the lane to the cottage garden above. All of a sudden the place had been transformed,metamorphosed into a French Chateau or some medieval fortress.I had no idea that beneath all the ivy and weeds those walls had existed! Who manhandled those vast granite blocks and skillfully formed those ramparts I do not know either.
I have hauled myself to dizzying heights up the cliff,slashing,burning building,reclaiming;extreme gardening some have called it,my back to the sea and always surprised and awed-anew by the panorma before and below me as I turn for a rest.
We have owned The Magazine for just bthree short years now.Perhaps own is not the right word as we are only temporary residents,guardians of a place that will endure long after we are gone.Eventually it will be reclaimed by the cliff that spawned and has nutured it.
We have added a "Bridge" an area almost directly over the water where we can sit and sail away to distant lands or see who comes a-calling on our earthly paradise. We have also added a conservatory where seascape and sky merge and fill our eyes and hearts with wonder as we sit and ponder our great good fortune..How lucky we are!
We have peeled away the layers leaving the cottage naked but re-invigorated and refreshed,ready to face the world boldly and proudly again. It has been a wonderful journey so far,full of a deep satisfaction,of awe and excitement and of contentment. To sit in the conservatory or in the garden on a sunny day gazing rapturously at the ebb and flow of the azure sea,perhaps watching Sammy the seal cavort in his watery home or to see a pod of Bottlenose Dolphins gliding effortlessly through the swell out in the bay is Heaven!
On stormy days we sit inside while the wind howls around the cottage and lashes the gunmetal foam-flecked sea into a frenzy as rank upon rank of shaggy-headed monstrous combers plough into the cove,rising like grey-green giants before smashing in a madness of spary and foam onto the rocks with the sound of giant boulders clacking together on the submerged slipway,the air full of spume and sea fret.
At dusk when visiors have gone and the cove is ours we can see the Pipistrelle Bats darting and flitting like miniature fighter planes hunting in the gloaming. If we are very lucky the haunting call of a Tawny Owl reverberates off the ancient quarry face and around the bay and gradually the eastern sky above the black bulk of Carn Dhu glows whitely as,like a magic golden orb the moon ascends mystically from the sea and the cove is bathed in a brilliant light and the sea becomes afire,a dancing glistening ocean.
We hope our journey with The Magazine will last a long time yet.Life without our Cottage In The Clouds is impossible to imagine.
Will you come again to Lamorna Wonderful vale of dreams Where beauty and nature go hand in hand With rippling streams through fertile land Our cares like mists leave the rugged shore You can be happy for evermore, In Lamorna The wonderful valley of dreams.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
A lovely rainy day in Lamorna.
As usual,for our early morning walk Elaine and I set off from The Magazine down into the cove then to Lamorna Woods.The early sky is steel grey with the promise of rain to come but for now it's dry and still and humid. The restless gunmetal sea is flecked with foam as it surges onto the rocks in the bay.
It's mid-June and the drought is but a memory. Last week Lamorna Stream was merely a trickle with isolated shallow pools connected by tinkling tiny rivulets. Now though it gurgles and roars again,drak pools overflowing as it dashes headlong down the wooded valley to the sea.
The daffodils and Bluebells have come and gone but always the woods have an earthy,heady scent and and with darkling,sun-dappled halflight are a place of infinite beauty and mystery.
In our pockets we have some breakfast snack for Pete.He's a gentle giant,a twenty eight year old horse who lives in a nearby field. A whistle from me and he comes a-trotting eagerly up to the fence,licking his large lips in anticipation and greeting us with a deep chested whinny.We feed him the half dozen carrots and a packet of Polo mints,truly his favourite. We pick burrs from his forelock and he smacks his lips in delight and rubs his massive head on us enjoying a scratch.
Then its off up Well Lane past Gyp,the Welsh Corgi who is in his garden and barks and cavorts as we toss him some biscuits. Along the Donkey Walk(Tangye) to Carn Barges passing the Chough Project-Natural Englands attrempt to lure back breeding Choughs to the area. There are now Exmoor ponies on the land,too and they stare expectantly at us as we pass.
To majestic Carn Barges,along the coastal path of Rosemordress cliffs and back to Lamorna Cove where we do a little beach-combing. Just yesterday I found a large orange net float encrusted with strings of jewel-like Goose Barnacles.
As we climb the lane to the cottage a mist,like a lacey white curtain envelops us and a warm drizzle begins to fall.
We sit in our new conservatory(The Bridge!)overlooking the cove as the now heavy rain drums loudly on the glass roof. The mist has thickened and it's hard to discern a neighbours bcottage across the bay where smoke rises from an ivy-clad chimney before being whisked away by the increasing wind. Thick grey clouds roll in,heavy with moisture and wind-driven sea spray and rain merge around us so our world becomes a hidden,ethereal place.
What better time than a visit to Oliver Land! So clad in rain gear I leave Elaine in the snug comfort of the cottage and head out into the storm. Back into the cove and up along the slippery rocks to Lamorna Point,the sea wild below. Turning onto Tregurnow Cliffs the howling wind blasts me and the flying rain and spume lashes my face. Through the gloom I can just see the vague outline of a small fishing boat plunging wildly on the rearing waves,tendrils of vapour streaming from it's mast as it's runs before the storm and battles onward to Newlyn harbour.
Above the contant roar of surf crashing onto the black,shiny rocks and rain beating on my oilskins I hear the high-pitched plaintive moan of Tater Du lighthouse,and reaching Carn Barges,through an opalescent veil it's bright warning light winks at me.
Dorminack is merely an ephemeral shape off in the gloom.Impossible to see clearly.There would have been no "There It Is!" moment for Jeannie Tangye today.
I trudge on,despite the wet weather gear thoroughly soaked,to Oliver Land. A few brave Wrens and Finches flit through the sodden bracken and gorse otherwise it's just me and the rain. Minack cottage is shrouded in rain and mist,the massive chimney poking above the sea of fog but no Gull today. I sit on Ambrose Rock and think and listen oblivious to the torrent. Afterwards I make my wish(always the same one and so far,always coming true)then visit Honeysuckle Meadow where the Honeysuckle is in full bloom,pale lemon and pink blossoms with a sweat heady aroma pervading the damp air. It's beautiful despite or perhaps because of the weather.
There always seems to be a particular atmosphere at Minack leaving me sometimes a little sad and melancholy,sometimes elated.Today,hidden amongst the swirling,enveloping cloak of mist and rain,isolated from the rest of the world it has truly been a place of solitude and reflection.
The winds chivvies at me and pushes me along the cliff path on my return.The rain now pounds on my back and trickles in cold little streams down my neck. My once waterproof boots squelch soggily as I plod homeward. I turn at Lamorna Point and climb down into the cove,the comforting glow of the lighted windows of The Magazine shine welcomingly through the gloom where it is perched snugly and imperiously on it's granite ledge overlooking the cove.
When I get home I sit and luxuriate,steaming gently in front of the roaring log fire and reflect upon the day.
Outside the rain still lashes at the windows,the wind screams around the cottage and the serried ranks of massive waves steam into the cove,humping their huge ugly grey green backs rising,rising before toppling and smashing in a welter of foam and wind-maddened spray onto the rocks. The cove is swathed in it's cloak of invisibility and we are alone in this mystical place, warm and snug and content.
It's mid-June and the drought is but a memory. Last week Lamorna Stream was merely a trickle with isolated shallow pools connected by tinkling tiny rivulets. Now though it gurgles and roars again,drak pools overflowing as it dashes headlong down the wooded valley to the sea.
The daffodils and Bluebells have come and gone but always the woods have an earthy,heady scent and and with darkling,sun-dappled halflight are a place of infinite beauty and mystery.
In our pockets we have some breakfast snack for Pete.He's a gentle giant,a twenty eight year old horse who lives in a nearby field. A whistle from me and he comes a-trotting eagerly up to the fence,licking his large lips in anticipation and greeting us with a deep chested whinny.We feed him the half dozen carrots and a packet of Polo mints,truly his favourite. We pick burrs from his forelock and he smacks his lips in delight and rubs his massive head on us enjoying a scratch.
Then its off up Well Lane past Gyp,the Welsh Corgi who is in his garden and barks and cavorts as we toss him some biscuits. Along the Donkey Walk(Tangye) to Carn Barges passing the Chough Project-Natural Englands attrempt to lure back breeding Choughs to the area. There are now Exmoor ponies on the land,too and they stare expectantly at us as we pass.
To majestic Carn Barges,along the coastal path of Rosemordress cliffs and back to Lamorna Cove where we do a little beach-combing. Just yesterday I found a large orange net float encrusted with strings of jewel-like Goose Barnacles.
As we climb the lane to the cottage a mist,like a lacey white curtain envelops us and a warm drizzle begins to fall.
We sit in our new conservatory(The Bridge!)overlooking the cove as the now heavy rain drums loudly on the glass roof. The mist has thickened and it's hard to discern a neighbours bcottage across the bay where smoke rises from an ivy-clad chimney before being whisked away by the increasing wind. Thick grey clouds roll in,heavy with moisture and wind-driven sea spray and rain merge around us so our world becomes a hidden,ethereal place.
What better time than a visit to Oliver Land! So clad in rain gear I leave Elaine in the snug comfort of the cottage and head out into the storm. Back into the cove and up along the slippery rocks to Lamorna Point,the sea wild below. Turning onto Tregurnow Cliffs the howling wind blasts me and the flying rain and spume lashes my face. Through the gloom I can just see the vague outline of a small fishing boat plunging wildly on the rearing waves,tendrils of vapour streaming from it's mast as it's runs before the storm and battles onward to Newlyn harbour.
Above the contant roar of surf crashing onto the black,shiny rocks and rain beating on my oilskins I hear the high-pitched plaintive moan of Tater Du lighthouse,and reaching Carn Barges,through an opalescent veil it's bright warning light winks at me.
Dorminack is merely an ephemeral shape off in the gloom.Impossible to see clearly.There would have been no "There It Is!" moment for Jeannie Tangye today.
I trudge on,despite the wet weather gear thoroughly soaked,to Oliver Land. A few brave Wrens and Finches flit through the sodden bracken and gorse otherwise it's just me and the rain. Minack cottage is shrouded in rain and mist,the massive chimney poking above the sea of fog but no Gull today. I sit on Ambrose Rock and think and listen oblivious to the torrent. Afterwards I make my wish(always the same one and so far,always coming true)then visit Honeysuckle Meadow where the Honeysuckle is in full bloom,pale lemon and pink blossoms with a sweat heady aroma pervading the damp air. It's beautiful despite or perhaps because of the weather.
There always seems to be a particular atmosphere at Minack leaving me sometimes a little sad and melancholy,sometimes elated.Today,hidden amongst the swirling,enveloping cloak of mist and rain,isolated from the rest of the world it has truly been a place of solitude and reflection.
The winds chivvies at me and pushes me along the cliff path on my return.The rain now pounds on my back and trickles in cold little streams down my neck. My once waterproof boots squelch soggily as I plod homeward. I turn at Lamorna Point and climb down into the cove,the comforting glow of the lighted windows of The Magazine shine welcomingly through the gloom where it is perched snugly and imperiously on it's granite ledge overlooking the cove.
When I get home I sit and luxuriate,steaming gently in front of the roaring log fire and reflect upon the day.
Outside the rain still lashes at the windows,the wind screams around the cottage and the serried ranks of massive waves steam into the cove,humping their huge ugly grey green backs rising,rising before toppling and smashing in a welter of foam and wind-maddened spray onto the rocks. The cove is swathed in it's cloak of invisibility and we are alone in this mystical place, warm and snug and content.
Hidden Cornwall
You would be forgiven for thinking this was a tale about smugglers' coves,mysterious caves and long-stashed booty. In fact it is about a vast area of Cornwall that few residents or visitors ever see or are even aware of. I have been coming to Cornwall all my life but this was my first experience with this magical,hidden world.
I was sitting in the garden of The Magazine one sunny day last May enthralled by the antics of Sammy,a large Atlantic Grey Seal who was cavorting in the cove,herding a big shoal of mullet. when bored with this game he would dart amongst the panicked fish,seize one,gleefully toss it into the air repeatedly,playing like a cat with a mouse,before despatching it with a quick bite to the head.he would then lay on his back and enjoy a leisurely breakfast in the calm,sun-dappled blue waters of the bay.
As often the case there were divers about in scuba-gear; huge hulking black forms,air tanks hissing,staggering down the jetty into the sea and the odd one in snorkel and fins clip-clopping across the beach.
I had done a fair bit of scuba diving and snorkelling in other parts of the world but until then never thought about doing it here in Lamorna.What could I possibly see beneath the cold Atlantic waters off a wild Cornish coast? Nothing,or so I thought.
How wrong I was!
So,that glorious May morning squinting against the sun-kissed sea watching Sammy,I made a decision that ultimately opened up a whole new beautiful and aweome world to me. More wonders to behold in this place of wonders.
The following morning I was huffing and puffing,pulling and sqeezing,cursing and laughing as Elaine and I forced my reluctant frame into a very tight wetsuit.Eventually hot and sweaty but excited,with giggles and words of encouragement from Elaine I scurried down the lane to the beach,eager to be in the water.
It was another gorgeous West Penwith day with sunlight glistening on the placid azure sea. Sammy was in the cove and appeared to be keeping a close eye on me. I hurriedly donned flippers,snorkel and masy and clopped along the white sand to the sea edge and into the welcoming waves.I floated serenely out and sank beneath the surface. It was chilly but I soon forgot about the cold.
For the next hour I drifted slowly and paddled around the cove,head under water,eyes wide open in astonishment behind my mask at the wonderous world below me.
The ocean was alive with vibrant colour,all illuminated from above by shimmering shafts of sunlight.The sea bed was a mix of bone white sand,massive boulders and giant quarried slabs of granite the size of cars.Limpets,Whelks and Mussells were everywhere on the subterranean strata and large fronds and fantastically-shaped leaves of yellow,brown and red Wrack and Kelp wafted to and fro on hidden currents.
I glided through huge shoals of silvery Sand Eels who were marshalled along by a foot-long Garfish. Great schools of blue grey Pollack swam leisurely past,curious and unafraid. Thick-lipped Grey Mullet eyed me suspiciously from the gloom and shot away as I approached. Ten feet below me Common Wrasse foraged in the canyons and rocks,Yellow Wrasse peered with large eyes at me from their homes in the crivices of large rocks and amazingly a three foot long Cuckoo Wrasse,stunning in it's brilliant multi-coloured coat of green,red and blue,wafted imperiously by,ignoring me completely,safe in it's under water world. Large red Spider Crabs and foot across scuttled on long spiney legs across the sandy bottom. Common Starfish and Brittlestars like giant red spiders themselves lay inert below me; yellowish Periwinkles covered age-old cracks by their hundreds. I saw something glinting in the distance and paddling over I gently poked a tentative finger at an astonishing jewel of the sea,a Strawberry Anemone. I thought I had spotted a dreaded Lions Mane Jellyfish and my legs pumped in unison with my heart as I kicked quickly away and once again resumed my slow reconaissance and paddled slowly about,fish darting here and there,fish swimming serenly uncorncerned by my presence,others going about their daily routine.I was entranced by it all!
I caught many glimpses of the Atlantic Great Seal,Sammy.He seemed to be swimming around keeping a close eye on me,perhaps hoping I might play with him,always majestic and at ease in his watery kingdom.He would approach me staring with huge limpid eyes circling slowly perhaps inviting me to join him before with a casual flick of a fin he would roll langorously and disappear into the gloom.I was told later that for a lot of the time Sammy swam about ten feet away from me,tracking my course.Whatever his motive it was a delight and a privilege to be in the water with him and to share his world.
I have repeated the swim many times since.It is yet one more wonderful experience to be savoured in this place of of infinite wonderful experiences but that first time,when a whole new world was opened up to me,a magical world enhanced by my sleek,mysterious,enchanting seal-friend Sammy will remain forever in my memory.
I was sitting in the garden of The Magazine one sunny day last May enthralled by the antics of Sammy,a large Atlantic Grey Seal who was cavorting in the cove,herding a big shoal of mullet. when bored with this game he would dart amongst the panicked fish,seize one,gleefully toss it into the air repeatedly,playing like a cat with a mouse,before despatching it with a quick bite to the head.he would then lay on his back and enjoy a leisurely breakfast in the calm,sun-dappled blue waters of the bay.
As often the case there were divers about in scuba-gear; huge hulking black forms,air tanks hissing,staggering down the jetty into the sea and the odd one in snorkel and fins clip-clopping across the beach.
I had done a fair bit of scuba diving and snorkelling in other parts of the world but until then never thought about doing it here in Lamorna.What could I possibly see beneath the cold Atlantic waters off a wild Cornish coast? Nothing,or so I thought.
How wrong I was!
So,that glorious May morning squinting against the sun-kissed sea watching Sammy,I made a decision that ultimately opened up a whole new beautiful and aweome world to me. More wonders to behold in this place of wonders.
The following morning I was huffing and puffing,pulling and sqeezing,cursing and laughing as Elaine and I forced my reluctant frame into a very tight wetsuit.Eventually hot and sweaty but excited,with giggles and words of encouragement from Elaine I scurried down the lane to the beach,eager to be in the water.
It was another gorgeous West Penwith day with sunlight glistening on the placid azure sea. Sammy was in the cove and appeared to be keeping a close eye on me. I hurriedly donned flippers,snorkel and masy and clopped along the white sand to the sea edge and into the welcoming waves.I floated serenely out and sank beneath the surface. It was chilly but I soon forgot about the cold.
For the next hour I drifted slowly and paddled around the cove,head under water,eyes wide open in astonishment behind my mask at the wonderous world below me.
The ocean was alive with vibrant colour,all illuminated from above by shimmering shafts of sunlight.The sea bed was a mix of bone white sand,massive boulders and giant quarried slabs of granite the size of cars.Limpets,Whelks and Mussells were everywhere on the subterranean strata and large fronds and fantastically-shaped leaves of yellow,brown and red Wrack and Kelp wafted to and fro on hidden currents.
I glided through huge shoals of silvery Sand Eels who were marshalled along by a foot-long Garfish. Great schools of blue grey Pollack swam leisurely past,curious and unafraid. Thick-lipped Grey Mullet eyed me suspiciously from the gloom and shot away as I approached. Ten feet below me Common Wrasse foraged in the canyons and rocks,Yellow Wrasse peered with large eyes at me from their homes in the crivices of large rocks and amazingly a three foot long Cuckoo Wrasse,stunning in it's brilliant multi-coloured coat of green,red and blue,wafted imperiously by,ignoring me completely,safe in it's under water world. Large red Spider Crabs and foot across scuttled on long spiney legs across the sandy bottom. Common Starfish and Brittlestars like giant red spiders themselves lay inert below me; yellowish Periwinkles covered age-old cracks by their hundreds. I saw something glinting in the distance and paddling over I gently poked a tentative finger at an astonishing jewel of the sea,a Strawberry Anemone. I thought I had spotted a dreaded Lions Mane Jellyfish and my legs pumped in unison with my heart as I kicked quickly away and once again resumed my slow reconaissance and paddled slowly about,fish darting here and there,fish swimming serenly uncorncerned by my presence,others going about their daily routine.I was entranced by it all!
I caught many glimpses of the Atlantic Great Seal,Sammy.He seemed to be swimming around keeping a close eye on me,perhaps hoping I might play with him,always majestic and at ease in his watery kingdom.He would approach me staring with huge limpid eyes circling slowly perhaps inviting me to join him before with a casual flick of a fin he would roll langorously and disappear into the gloom.I was told later that for a lot of the time Sammy swam about ten feet away from me,tracking my course.Whatever his motive it was a delight and a privilege to be in the water with him and to share his world.
I have repeated the swim many times since.It is yet one more wonderful experience to be savoured in this place of of infinite wonderful experiences but that first time,when a whole new world was opened up to me,a magical world enhanced by my sleek,mysterious,enchanting seal-friend Sammy will remain forever in my memory.
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