Category Archives: Cornwall

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Becoming Part Of The History Of A Place

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Jubilee Rock 200th Anniversary Celebration 2010

Yesterday we gathered with a group of seventy or so people to celebrate the 200th Anniversary of Jubilee Rock.  A quote from an article written by Peter Davies in 2007 for a local paper talked a bit about why all the carvings were done on the massive stone and by whom.

” The massive 8 foot high granite boulder was said to have been carved by Lt. John Rogers to celebrate the 1810 golden jubilee of King George III. All is apparently original except for an 1897 addition for Victoria’s golden jubilee.  Detail includes Britannia, the Royal and Cornish coats of arms and those of local families, a plough, and two mason’s marks, a compass and square.”

While the 200th Anniversary is actually today, the celebration was held on Sunday to make it easier for more people to attend. Thanks to some local men, a careful restoration took away the lichen that was seriously obscuring many of the carvings and there was even a descendent of Lt John Rogers on hand to talk about his family ties to the area and to replace the special plaque the side of the rock.

Click To Enlarge (Jubilee Rock Plaque 1810-2010)

I took loads of photographs documenting many people standing and participating (singing) that I recognize from our village nearby and when a photographer for one of the local newspapers gathered everyone around afterward for a group photo and asked loudly, ” Is everyone in who wants to be in the photograph? “

I snapped off a couple of shots before deciding at the last minute that I wanted have a place in the local history of my new home and shouted out, ” Is it too late for me to be in the picture? ” I quickly took my place near my friend Tina on the other side of the flag of Cornwall, the black and white St Piran’s flag.

I don’t have copy of the photograph yet, but somewhere there is a picture with me with my neighbors standing round a special rock on Bodmin Moor in much the way locals from the area might have 200 years ago.

 

Attaching The Plaque Jubilee Rock 2010

 

 

Tina With Daughter Ella and Jersey Girl

 

Jubilee Rock 200th Anniversary Celebration 1810- 2010

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Skating Not Scooting – Our Day At Eden Project

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Two days ago I wrote this post where I talked about my plan to ride scooters with John’s granddaughter, Jersey Girl. We met her mom at the ferry last night and encountered so much traffic on the way back due to road construction that we were all late getting to bed.

Jersey Girl slept for a few hours during the drive home and seemed fine this morning, but John and I felt the fatigue of our long drive by mid-afternoon today. You would not have known it though to see us in action during our day out at Eden Project.

John started things off with a little hopscotch.

Sorry the hopscotch photos are a bit blurred. John and JG caught me by surprise and even though the image quality is not the best, they were too cute not to use.

We found the ice rink already in place for the winter and Jersey Girl was keen to have a go at it. John had never done any ice skating so guess who strapped on a pair of blades for a few trips around the rink.

This was only Jersey Girl’s second time on ice skates and she did very well. She fell a lot, but she always got right back up and was very determined that she would master the ice.

Before we hit the ice, we went to one of the Biomes and got friendly with a British Barn Owl named Richmond who was about fifteen according to his handler from The Screech Owl Sanctuary.

 

A last leap or two and we were done for the day. The house is quiet now and I am headed for bed. Tomorrow is another full day with Jersey Girl and I am hoping to get a bit of scooting in with some pictures to prove it.

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Dancing Ladies – Going Home

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Most of us have signs or landmarks that remind us when we are almost home. For me, it is this stand of trees on a hill not far from the border where Devon becomes Cornwall. I call them The Dancing Ladies and they are always a sign that in just a few minutes everything that is troubling or tiring will be neatly put to rest as we turn off the main road and point our car towards the narrow lane that leads home.

We took my sister Margaret to the airport this morning with John driving just under 500 miles roundtrip and I was delighted to see my dancing ladies on our way back. Although it was not a short trip, it is nothing compared to one she has before her with several plane changes and a long layover in Germany before reaching Alaska.

My sister and her family recently moved to a new location having lived near Anchorage, Alaska for many years. There is a bridge you drive under as you get closer to her former home and people often hang signs of welcome from it painted on large sheets with brightly colored paint making it seem like a perfect landmark.

Although we did not talk about it, I feel sure that since moving a few months ago she has likely found something that signals her new home is close by and her daily journeys are at an end.

I don’t know what new images mark her way home now, but I imagine that nothing could whisper or shout ” You’re home ”  better than the welcoming sight of her husband and children who will be waiting at the airport. It is the first time Margaret has been away from her boys for more than a week and I think after a month here with me, they will be all the landmark she needs to feel welcomed and at home.

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A Seaside Visit Today For This Birthday Boy

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Today is John’s birthday and while he would rather not have too much notice made, I have a sweet pile of presents or “pressies” as some might say here and his requested blackberry crumble with candles and ice cream for later. (Okay, he didn’t ask for candles, but he needs them to make a wish … right?)

As soon we pull ourselves together this morning, we will head south to explore several places where we can walk on the beach and touch the sea. We won’t be taking any little pails and shovels like John had in the photo above, but I expect we will have plenty of fun just the same. I was thrilled when he mentioned going to one place in particular when I asked how he wished to spend his birthday.

Cadgwith is a sweet little seaside village which looks much the same as it did in 1930 when his dad at sixteen took this photograph while the family was in the area on holiday. I plan to take John’s picture as close to the thatched cottage on the right as I can get and will edit this post to include it when we return. (If you click to enlarge this, you can see John’s grandmother on the left.)

Photo by Victor Winchurch, Age 16 - Cadgwith, Cornwall 1930

I am so pleased to be able to share a third birthday celebration with this lovely man who changed my life so dramatically only a few years ago. Happy Birthday John!

* If you are reading this through email or other subscription, please refresh to get the edited version. I had an old family photo from the wrong village and had to correct it.

Updates & Additions … I am back as I promised with some pictures from our day. These were taken 80 years after the one above and another one taken the same day 80 years ago.

Cadgwith 2010

Color Cadgwith 2010

( I added the color version of Cadgwith by special request for Dorothy I mean, Kim who wanted to see OZ * see her comment below)

I took this photograph this afternoon of John standing where his grandmother stood 80 years ago when she was two years younger than I am now. I was a little closer to my subject than John’s dad was in 1930. I also thought you might enjoy a few more from today that go with the original taken 1930.

Photo By Victor Winchurch – Cadgwith, Cornwall 1930

My image from today is below.

Cadgwith, Cornwall 2010

Here is a last image before I say goodnight, It is one I took of John while he was photographing from what is likely the same spot his father did when he was still only a sixteen year old boy. I bet his dad would have loved digital photography. Remember you can click any image to enlarge. Click twice to make it ginormous.

John Winchurch – September 27, 2010

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Bedruthan Steps – A Closer Look At A Special Place

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Some of you may remember this photograph taken recently by a visiting friend from America. You may have also seen this post where I tell you that only a few minutes after stepping off the plane in Cornwall for the first time to meet John face to face, he brought me to this magical place.

Even in February it was obvious that Bedruthan Steps was spectacular with its jagged rocky face extending into the sea and the cliffs with signs that warned walkers not to go too close the edge, but allowed one to decide where the edge was for themselves.

Because we usually visit this location on the anniversary of that first meeting, it is generally windy and cold and while you can go down the hill behind us in the picture and up the other side, there is a locked gate during many months of the year when the steps behind it are considered too dangerous and slippery for people to climb up and down.

Two days ago we arrived with my sister Margaret and found the gate unlocked. It was my first time to walk on the beach at Bedruthan Steps and not a memory I am likely to forget. Here are some pictures from that beach walk.

Going slowly, we make our way carefully down the steep steps.

Here is a hazy look back at the steps after we reached the beach.

This gorgeous golden sand was everywhere.

John climbing through the rocks to reach another beach.

More people followed us through the opening. I like the informal triangular point they lined up into without knowing. Margaret is in the center with her camera raised.

Off they go back through the opening leaving us alone on the beach once again.

Here’s a windblown sister snap taken by John.

Leaving only our footprints behind we go back to the other side as well.

Dogs were everywhere and all seemed well-behaved and happy to have their time in the sun.

This is a classic Margaret pose with her weight balanced just so and her camera in hand.

A little kiss of thanks before we go for introducing me to this lovely place.

Then it’s back up the steps we go with John leading the way.

Here is a shot from the top of the stairs.

Here is one of John with Margaret behind him coming up even more steps on the way back to the car.

Ugh!   We … are … almost … there … whew!

Taking a last look back, you can see where the first photo was snapped down near the wall and the group of people standing there. (click to enlarge)  I hope I didn’t overwhelm you with photos today, This is only a few of the photographs from our time on the beach and it was difficult to choose which told the story best so I went with more rather than less.

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My Sailor Comes Home From The Sea

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John has been away for the last few days sailing across the English Channel with his eldest daughter and his brother, David. It is his second trip across the Channel this summer as he helped David sail his boat over to Guernsey when I went home to the US in July for a visit.

Even though I was back in Cornwall and could have gone with him when he left for the return last Thursday, I opted to stay home and get some down time before my sister Margaret arrives on Friday. Okay, I did have a coffee catch up with Tina after my run one morning and a lovely girls night out dinner with Jean and Helen, two local ladies from the village who are killer quiz players. Plus, I spent some time picking berries and making my very first blackberry jam which John loved, but I am still not too sure about so although I was pretty busy, I did keep a fairly relaxed schedule here on my own.

John came back late yesterday having jumped ship at a port close enough to catch the train to within five miles of home. It turns out he was only home for one night as we are driving to meet up with the boat in nearby Fowey in a little while where he will rejoin David along with his daughter to sail the boat on to Falmouth in the morning. I am once again passing on the sailing experience. It’s not that I don’t enjoy sailing because I do, but I dislike being in a small space with other people for most overnight experiences. This was definitely an issue during my time in the army and one I am glad I have some control over now.

I have such empathy for the 33 miners in Chile who are “2700 feet underground in a space the side of a large living room.” If it were me, I would be eating those antidepressants they’re sending down by the fistful and to top it all off some of those poor men have to lose weight to even fit through the two foot wide exit tunnel. Gracious! I cannot imagine the nightmares they must be having. I wonder what I would do to make it through the four months they say it might take to reach them. Can you imagine it … four months underground, limited contact with the outside world, and the stress of such a small space. I want to hear their stories when they reach the surface … don’t you.

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I’ve Been Here Before – St Michael’s Mount

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I just spent far too long putting this post together only to have it disappear so I’m afraid you will have to make do with a shorter version as I have blackberries in the kitchen calling to me to turn them into jam.

When I knew David and Steven were coming to Cornwall, I suggested we pay a visit to St Michael’s Mount and as they were going to be here on a Sunday, we made a plan to attend the Sunday service.

To reach the church you must cross the cobblestone path you see in the photograph above.

This is easy enough as Steven demonstrates above until the tide comes in.

Here you can see the exterior of the church nestled with the castle around it. I took this on an earlier visit.

I managed to snap a discreet photo just before the service began. After the service David photographed a few of the stained glass windows with two shown below.

David is in the photo below with Marazion in the background.

Can you see the tide coming in the photograph below? People are hurrying to get across.

Below is a another look at the water and people … it’s partly under water now.

You can see a close-up of what the stone path looks like as the water spills over it. John took this of me in 2008 and I altered it a bit for this post.

Elizabeth At St Michael’s Mount – 2008

You have two ways to cross as I said earlier and this trip we came back in the boat below. I wrote a post about my first church experience at St Michael’s Mount in 2008 and thought some of you might find it interesting.

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Elizabeth - August 2008

Sit Down You’re Rocking The Boat

Originally posted – August 13, 2008

I have thought a good bit over the last few days about this post. What to call it and how to write it. Sometimes it can be difficult to say what is on my mind. My internal editor tends to call out from the back of the room where she sits in my head. Arms crossed over one another she has a defensive posture she likes to assume when she feels as if I’m stepping off into a place of too much controversy. She’s there now, shaking her head giving me the look that says, “ Are you sure you want to talk about this?” “ Shush, I say … get lost,” and with that I step off into the murky waters of spiritual questioning.

I don’t like church services or organized religion. I dislike anyone telling me what I must think or do in order to know God.

In England where many I’ve met consider themselves to be atheists, saying those words out loud doesn’t seem to have the same effect as it would in the bible belt part of the US where I was born. Mind you I feel that I have been to enough church services to speak from a place of experience as to why I don’t care for them. It’s pretty simple really. The only voices I hear in any house of worship are those in my head. Cynicism, skepticism, and judgement, both of others and myself tend to make so much noise that the voice of God is never present there.

So I don’t go anymore.

Recently I made an exception to my usual avoidance of church attendance when I spent an hour or so in a historic chapel attending the Sunday service. The Chapel on St. Michael’s Mount was completed in 1135, although much of it had to be rebuilt after an earthquake in 1275. I had mentioned to John that I would like to see what a service was like there when we had visited it originally a month earlier. I said it was for the experience you know … I mean how many times does one get a chance to hear scripture quoted in a place where souls have gathered for a same purpose for almost 900 years. I said I wanted to go in order to see how a Church of England service might differ from the Lutheran beliefs that I’d grown up with.

That’s what I told him and that was the truth at least in part, because the core of who I am is a woman with an insatiable curiosity. In most situations I have a strong desire to experience things firsthand, but the rest of the story is that on some level I thought in a worship service held where people have come together for hundreds of years I surely might find some whisper of God’s voice.

I wasn’t necessarily looking for direction communication as in a voice from a burning bush, but I thought just maybe …

So early one Sunday morning we made the trip to St Michael’s Mount and I took a small boat with a few strangers across the causeway. The castle and chapel are perched on an island that must be reached by boat except at low tide when a cobblestone pathway appears from the water inch by inch.

Once my feet touched dry land I was off at a brisk pace up a steep path of large uneven stones to the top of the mount to claim a seat in the tiny chapel next to the ghosts of the Benedictine Abby established on St Michael’s Mount in 966. On my way to the top I passed a group of woman who looked to be of retirement age chattering their greetings to one another and largely blocking the narrow path. “Ugh!” I thought as I nodded a tight polite smile to the four women who seemed oblivious to anyone else.

The sound of their voices stayed with me as I walked on a bit faster in an attempt to hang on to the place of stillness and contemplation I was trying to encourage in my head.

The ladies chattered on like the magpies who hang out in John’s garden as they followed behind me more quickly than I imagined they could for women with walking sticks. Suddenly, they seemed right behind me as I stood in the short aisle deciding where the best seat might be for seeing and hearing the service. Hearing them talk over the sounds of the pre-service organ music I decided on a seat as far from them as possible.

The ladies settled down as the service began and I adjusted my average-sized behind on the tiny cushion meant to provide a bit of padding. The small seats of the individual chairs were placed in tight rows possibly anticipating the crowds of people the church hoped to welcome, but the church interior remained largely empty with only fifteen to twenty people dotted round the sanctuary.

As hard as I tried to have an open mind and heart so that I might feel some spiritual connection, I could only think of the historical issues that have and still plague the religious institutions that try to minister to souls in need.

That would be me you see in the boat at the top, always questioning, but still searching. Somewhere there must be a community of people like me who are looking for something simple and honest that may only be found I think, in silence.

Don Henley, one of the members of The Eagles, a band I grew up with in the 70’s sang a song called, Sit Down You’re Rockin the Boat! These are just a couple of verses of the song so you can get the picture.

I dreamed last night

I was on the boat to heaven

By some chance

I had brought my dice along

And there I stood

And I hollered someone fade me

But the passengers they knew right from wrong

And the people all said sit down

Sit down you’re rockin the boat

The people all said sit down

Sit down you’re rockin the boat

Cause the devil will drag you under

By the sharp lapels of your checkered coat

Sit down Sit down

Sit down you’re rockin the boat

Oooh Oooh Oooh (scat)

Oooh Oooh Oooh

I suspect I’m not alone in my little boat so I’ll just keep on rowing for now.

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When Friends Come To Visit Part II- Climbing Rough Tor

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As I continue sharing our three-day visit with friends David and Steven, I want to show you our trip to Rough Tor. David took the photo above as we struck out for Rough Tor.

John went on with ahead with Steven while I lagged behind a bit with David as he and I took time to snap a few photos along the way. The three images below were taken by John. In the one just below you can see two tiny dots in the center. ( click to enlarge )

In the image underneath you can see the tiny dots a bit better. I am the dot on the left and David is the one on the right.

Do you recognize the pile of stones below? Oh wait, there’s someone missing … look at my border at the top and you’ll see me standing on the same pile of rocks. Steven has long appreciated that photograph and wanted his photograph taken there above all else during his visit to Cornwall. Due to the fierce wind and the slipperiness of the wet rocks he had to use another stone as a stand-in.

See the rock above David’s head (he’s in the blue jacket ) … that’s the one Steven wanted to stand on.

Even I didn’t want to risk it this time, but I did slip my shoes off to climb up on the one next to it on the back side. (two photos below) Can you see the moorland pony down left of Steven … it’s a long way down from the top of the rock. (click to enlarge)

After I slipped off my shoes, I felt much more secure climbing up the back side of the rocks below. My neglected rock climbing skills came in handy and I’m glad I was still in shape ( hah!) well, at least well enough to get as high I did below.

Yep … that’s me. The wind was wicked.

From my lofty advantage I managed to get a photo of John ( ant-sized figure in the center)  as he was taking pictures of me.

Did you find John? He’s down there with his arms outstretched. I had to step back to show you the cool impression carved out by weather on the rock .

Here’s a photo of me with Steven after I came down off the rock. I’m wet and bedraggled from wind and rain along with still being barefoot.

Steven & David

John did a bit of climbing himself.

I think by the time this one was taken John was ready to go.

I couldn’t resist finishing with David and his runaway brolly. It’s a long way down although easier than the climb up and about halfway back to the car David decided he’d had enough of the rain and decided to find his own cover. His umbrella clearly had other plans.

I’ll be back with more later if you’re interested. Sunday took us to St. Michael’s Mount for a service in a church built in the 14th century and I have some good pictures from our last day to share with you.

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When Friends Come To Visit

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John & Elizabeth - Bedruthan Steps - August 2010

When friends come to visit you have an opportunity to see things a bit differently than you normally might. John and I have had our picture taken here before, but only on a self-timer. When my friends David and Steven arrived last Friday from Atlanta by way of London, we had a chance to see ourselves through someone else’s eyes.

I love the picture above that Steven took of us at Bedruthan Steps. You may remember that this is the spot John took me to right after I stepped off the plane in Cornwall when we first met face to face on Valentine’s Day in 2008. Below is the picture that preceded the one above where John is looking a bit sweet and bashful.

There were a series of others like this where the spontaneity could not have been captured using the self-timer on my camera and I’m glad Steven was there to snag them. We managed to squeeze a lot of the Cornish experience into their visit beginning with a lunch of pasties made by me. David took the three pasty pictures below.

Steven & David

You can’t see it very well, but Steven and David are holding up score cards giving my pasties a 10 and a 9. They were playing around, but they did eat every bite so I think they really liked them. I also made two blackberry/apple crumbles and three blackberry cobblers along with a key lime pie. Blackberries are everywhere right now and I’ve picked over fifteen pounds so far. Most of the berries are in the freezer, but I couldn’t resist making a few sweets to share with our guests.

Photo Credit - David Morris

After lunch we were off to Lanhydrock which is our closest National Trust property and perfect for a rainy day.

Photo Credit - David Morris

If you look closely into the reflection on the silver serving dish cover, you can see me with my new camera and Steven off to the right.

After a look around for some rainy day headgear (the one David is holding won’t do at all) we take a look outside to see if the rain has slowed enough to have a walk around the grounds.

We move outside to see what we can find in the gardens around Lanhydrock.

I managed to capture this leaf and the church below with my new camera with no worries about the rain as it’s waterproof, a valuable quality when living in a country where we don’t let a little rain keep us inside. (Panasonic DMC-TS2)

David is using his new Canon G11 which is the other camera I wanted. ( I know … I’m greedy when it comes to camera gear.)

Only one more shot and we’re off to our next location.

If you come back tomorrow, I’ll show you more of our journey around Cornwall.

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Vibram’s FiveFingers For My Aging Ten Toes

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Vibram's FiveFingers For My Ten Toes

I always come back from my visits to the US with things I think I cannot live without such as my favorite peanut butter, hair gel, and protein bars, but this time I added a new pair of shoes that my friend Jules told me about recently. You may remember that I have been experiencing some fairly major aches and pains that I had  been attributing to my aging baby boomer body and years of long distance running.

As much as I haven’t want to admit it, my low back and knees hurt most days and even more when I run a lot or do the five or six-hour coast path walks that John and I love so much. Usually, I just suck it up and drive on as we used to say when I was in the army and eat a couple more Tylenol than I would regularly, but after hearing about these shoes and how they might make a difference, I thought I would give Vibram’s FiveFingers a try.

Yesterday, I slept more in one day than I normally do over a three-day period as I had a wicked and unusual case of jet lag but I did manage to make it to the supermarket with John and wore my new shoes out for the first time. While you can buy these in the UK, I have not seen any on feet around here and from some of the looks I received I don’t think they’ve made the Cornwall scene in any great numbers yet.

I am giving myself one more day to settle in before I hit the ground running (literally) with my running buddy Tina on Saturday. If these new shoes can help slow down my aches and pains while speeding up my feet, I’m sure Tina will appreciate my increased mobility.

I’ll get back you on my transition from Nike’s to FiveFingers in a few weeks along with any comments worth repeating. So far the prevailing one from several people who know me has been, ” So you got those in America, did you? ” John however, has been quite supportive of my new footwear finding the different looking shoes an interesting idea for improving my mood and mobility, but remains slightly amused at being seen with a woman wearing as he puts it, “Shoes that look like black monkey feet.”