Tuesday, July 20, 2021

Rivers of Cornwall 2 : The Fowey in Summer

The Fowey, like the River Lyhner, rises on Bodmin Moor and flows south for about 30 miles to the sea past the twin towns of Polruan and Fowey on opposite sides of the Fowey estuary. Because of the unsettled weather during our travels down the river, we could only look at short sections at a time, dodging the worst of the rain.


                                                         Catchment of the River Fowey

The river (pronounced Foy as in boy) rises in the north eastern side of the moor and runs through a surrounding bowl of  the rounded hills of High Moor and Buttern Hill, past Cornwall’s highest point, the granite tor of Brown Willy.

 

 

The Fowey rises in this rather featureless area of moorland between the familiar profile of Brown Willy, the highest point in Cornwall, at  about 450m above sea level.

The photo of Brown Willy was taken from the top of Buttern Hill, to the East. This is one of the best-preserved kists in Cornwall. It is a Bronze Age burial chamber, big enough to take a crouched burial.
 


Several streams join the Fowey high up on the moor, rising from marshes like this.
 

The marshes in summer are colourful with Common Valerian, Marsh Thistle, Foxgloves, Angelica.
 

The stunted hawthorns on the moor are often draped with beards of lichen.
 






 





 

 Not much more than freshets, the streams of the upper reaches run through marshes and thickets of willow.


 

 

 

 The  young river then flows below Leskernick Hill with its big cairn and on its western and southern slopes the well –preserved remains of over fifty Bronze Age round houses within two discrete settlements. The rounded open moorland hills of Codda , Tolborough and Blackhill Downs.surround the shallow valley

One of the many round houses at the settlement of Leskernick.

Troops of Foxgloves stand tall on the banks.
 

 until the river flows under the main A30 trunk road and runs quite steeply down the eastern side of the moor.

The hamlet of Bolventor with its famous pub is nearby . The Jamaica Inn featured in Daphne du Maurier's novel of that name; a tale of smuggling and wrecking.

The horizons of the moor are often marked by tracts of coniferous plantations. They detract from the wide open character of the moor, but when re-growth follows in large clear-felled areas, we can see and hear Nightjars calling and hunting at twilight.


The river flows through marshy meadows and willow woodland. Summer vegetation is luxuriant with Hemlock Water Dropwort. Its roots are highly poisonous to livestock but they are normally not eaten unless the growth is opened up by floods.
The river is narrow but clean and fast flowing, subject to sudden rises in level after rain on the moor. Green tresses of waterweed sway in the current and dippers nest under some of the bridges.



The handsome bridge at Ninestones, partway down this section of the river gives access to one of several small moorland farms nestled among sheltering trees.

Moorland farmhouse, looking cozy now, but  remote, cold and enveloped in clammy mists in winter.

The opposite hillside of Browngelly has the extensive remains of ancient and medieval settlements partly buried under gorse and bracken.


Coming off the moor, the river runs through wet mossy woodland.

 The beam bridge at Draynes was built in 1878 to replace a ford. A car park here gives access for the many visitors to the well-loved  ancient oakwoods of the Draynes Valley with its attractive Golitha Falls.

The river runs alongside a fine row of beech trees which must have been planted getting on for a couple of hundred years ago.Forty years ago there were Pied Flycatchers nesting in the old oaks  in the woodland here but they haven't been seen for many years now.
 

The lifting of lockdown restrictions has made a big rise in traffic and the car park by the river at Draynes was very busy with people coming and going from walks in the woods to the falls at Golitha.

 

Golitha Falls.

 The defile where the river runs between great boulders is a well known site for mosses and lichens, and contributes to the area's status as an SSSI and National Nature Reserve. Years ago when Kim was a student we picked her up after an afternoon’s drawing down at the Falls. We found a drowned rat! She had fallen into a deep pool below, still clutching her drawings. Luckily no harm done except to her dignity. 

 

 On the moorland before the Fowey runs down the hillside is an ancient inscribed stone believed to commemorate King Doniert, the last of the Cornish kings, said to have drowned in the Fowey in  around 875AD. 


The river then turns south and plunges down the southern edge of the moor. The lanes here are deep and sunken, within lush mossy woodlands.

At Treverbyn the old medieval bridge on the right is no longer used. It is listed because it still retains some of the original 14th century structure. It is replaced by the newer bridge on the left of the picture. The river was looking very beery after all the recent rain.


The next bridge is Ashford , before the river turns west.
 This bridge is listed and was built in about 1850 to replace an earlier one. It's construction is the same as the Draynes bridge.We set the moth trap here a few nights ago. We had a good catch and also huge numbers of various sorts of Caddis Flies were attracted to the light.



The Glynn Valley  is shared between  the river, the busy A38 trunk road, the main railway line from Paddington to Penzance and extensive coniferous plantations. The handsome Glynn House , most recently rebuilt in  the mid 1800s  has given its name to this stretch of the valley. There has been a dwelling at Glynn since before the Norman Conquest, with successive houses built on the site.


Trago Mills, the first of a chain of retail outlets first developed in 1960 on the site of the original gunpowder mill which blew up in the latter part of the 1800s.  It started in a small shed  where the  owner sold various lots of bankrupt stock which he had bought cheap. Now notorious for its quirky architecture and the often tumultuous relations between the owner and council authorities, it is nevertheless a popular venue.

Further along the valley the river passes Cabilla and Redrice Reserves belonging to the Cornwall Wildlife Trust. A large area of mixed woodland, this is home to the rare Blue Ground Beetle and is also a good site for butterflies and moths. Purple Hairstreaks and Silver-washed Fritillaries  can be seen along the tracks..



Purple Hairstreak. These butterflies usually stay in the tree tops, but can sometimes be seen basking on leaves lower down. We have watched displaying pairs in persistent spiraling flight high up above the trees.


 

 

 

         
      Silver-washed Fritillary butterfly.

Several adits in this vicinity  open from old tin and copper mines and are winter hibernation sites for bats. Tony has done counts of them for over twenty years. One goes under the A38 from near the river. When he was little, grandson no.1 went too and Tony said 'he disappeared up there like a rat in a drainpipe'.This adit interestingly also regularly has signs of otter lying up in it.

Now the river runs south again, under Respryn Bridge, another listed, originally medieval bridge.
 

Some years ago the bridge was hit and extensively damaged by a lorry and subsequent repairs incorporated width restrictions.


The capstones of many of the local medieval bridges have been 'stapled' together.


 

 



 



The railway runs alongside the river in the widening valley. They pass the National Trust property of Lanhydrock House. Originally the property of the Robartes family, who were Parliamentarians in the Civil War and opposed to the Royalist family at Boconnoc on the opposite bank. The estate has many fine trees, many of which are veteran. An avenue of Sycamores was planted in 1648 and some still survive.

 

 Less than a mile north of Lostwithiel is the National Trust Restormel Castle. It was built in the 13th Century but having at one time been held by the Parliamentarians in the Civil War, fell into disrepair in the 16 hundreds. It was CLOSED when we wanted to visit! Lockdown? or just the wrong day?

This is an English Heritage aerial view.

The next substantial settlement is the old town of Lostwithiel  which was the capital of Cornwall in the 13th Century. It still retains some historical features. 

It was a Stannary town. A Stannary was an area of tin mining and the five Cornish Stannary towns  are Lostwithiel, Bodmin, Truro, Helston and Liskeard . This is where twice a year all tin and copper were brought in for assaying and stamping, and the coinage was made under strict rules and supervision. The  Cornish tinners were very powerful and their Stannery Law overruled the Common Law  until 1838.

The Coinage Hall in Lostwithiel still stands in the town centre.

The main road with its modern bridge replaces the wide seven span medieval bridge pictured below.(the seventh span is hidden by foliage on the right.)

 

The narrow old bridge at Lostwithiel.

 


 

Intriguing glimpses.


  










The handsome spire of the parish church of St. Bartholomew. The original church was built in the 13th Century with most  of the structure and the spire, added in the 14th Century. The font has very fine 14th century carving. The church was extensively restored in the 1870s.


On the upper side of Lostwithiel the river alternated between deep pools and shining riffles. A moorhen flew downstream and landed with a splash in the water below the overhanging foliage.




A clump of very floriferous brambles was attracting Meadow Browns, a Red Admiral and a Comma butterfly.




Comma Butterfly.



The brambles were on the edge of the town's Millennium Park, a pleasant area with rough grassland, various planted trees and numerous seats.

 

Immediately downstream of the town which is the furthest navigable place on the Fowey, the river is canalized for some distance with a pleasant walking track alongside.The town's fortunes declined with those of tin, and the river silted up with silt from the mines so that bigger ships could no longer come up to the quay.



 As we follow the valley, the lanes are full of flower at this time of the year. The pastoral countryside is very attractive.

This is a clump of purple Tufted Vetch.









 A froth of white Hedge Bedstraw makes the warm air smell like new hay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

We next tried to get to the river at St Winnow. This is a pleasant little riverside hamlet with a little church well worth looking at. Usually very quiet, this time it was choked with holidaymakers - 'staycationers' in the current jargon. We couldn't park, so made our way further down and managed to find a secluded creek for our lunch.

The river has now widened to become an estuary. This is looking upstream at half tide. St Winnow can just be discerned in the distance. The lovely village of Golant is a few hundred yards downstream on the opposite bank. About forty years ago we admired a pink rose growing up the pub wall in Golant. I asked the landlady if she knew its name. It was Madame Gregoire Staechelin and I was able to buy one from a specialist rose grower. She still makes a brief but lovely display of blooms up our back wall. I have just found out her alternative name is Spanish Beauty.

  

Short creeks with brackish water run into the estuary. First, the River Ethy runs into a creek at Lerryn. This one is Pont Pill with an old derelict mill alongside the bridge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 On the west bank of the estuary is a china clay terminal where china clay from extensive clay pits inland, is run down a pipe  before loading onto cargo ships. Back in the seventies there were several cargo ships laid up in the estuary near here.

 

 

 

 

The Estuary's lowest crossing, a car ferry at Bodinnick was avoided on this visit. Always busy, we envisaged this summer the narrow lane to the ferry would be clogged and the queue to cross interminable

 

The ferry crossing to Fowey. The Ferry Inn at the bottom dates from  the 16 hundreds.

 

 

The estuary reaches the sea flanked by the towns of Fowey on the far, west, bank, and Polruan this side. The two towns are connected here by a passenger ferry. Parking is up above the narrow streets.


Journey's End! The river joins the Channel.



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www.northcornwallnaturalist.blogspot.com

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Saturday, July 10, 2021

SIXTY YEARS OF WILD CAMPING

Going back to the early ‘60s, we made use of my brother-in-law’s summer camp in a sheltered nook on the Devon coast; just a tarpaulin slung over a cleared space between bramble patches. He stashed his canoe close-by. Our son and grandson still camp overnight here though the tarp. has long since been dismantled.

 

1962 Camping in brother Mick's summer camp. Our daughter aged 4 months in the carry-cot. Going up to the farm to get milk.
 

 


 

 3rd Generation. Same place, 8 or 9 years on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 4th generation, grandson number 3 , same place. 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

Going on to the early 70’s we first camped with tent and car before moving up to a panel van which Tony converted into a camper. This encouraged us to spend summer weeks in Spain and France and introduced us to a lifetime love affair with the high mountains.

 

1971, Quantock Hills. We then went on up to the Lake District where it rained 7 days out of 8 but somehow it didn't put us off!
 

 

 1974. Pyrenees. Cloud hid the mountains for days. Then early one morning the clouds lifted off the tops and revealed a huge mountain.

We headed for it!

 

 

 

 

 

 


We found the mountain, L'Arbizon. Angus aged 11, overwhelmed by the size, towering above our new camp-site. He has climbed mountains ever since!

 

 








Easter 1976 Snow in the Vosges mountains, Eastern France. We were captivated by the spring flowers in the meadows between the trees.      

1979 Spanish Pyrenees. We picked up a couple of American hitch-hikers and we spent a few days here together. They now live back home in the States but we have become long-time friends.


Same trip. A domestic scene, Kim drawing, Angus fishing hopefully, Tony looking something up.

 A rusting chassis in the old J4 moved us up a notch to a rather bigger. Bedford campervan, and our explorations took us further afield, from the Hebrides to the south of France.

 

2006. We  scrapped the old J4. This  camper we nick-named 'the bread-van' I forget why.
 

2006. Haut Savoie. Grit your teeth and hope you don't meet a forestry lorry!

 

Same trip. We stopped at the top of the track near a summer cheese-making shed. The cow caused hilarity and then consternation. She was so eager to lick the salt Angus was offering that she got her head stuck in the doorway and it took a bit of wriggling to extricate her.

 

 


 By the time the two kids had left home Tony and I moved on to a trailer tent. This had the advantage of being able to leave it in place while we explored in the more maneuverable car by day. However it was a bit tiresome to erect in the evenings and had a more visible presence and in time we reverted to another campervan.

The picture above  and three more below, was in about 2010 when we went to SE France with Kim and family. The forestry rangers wished us 'Bon vacance et bon appetit!'
Heavy rain one night but at least we could collect rainwater off the tarp.







                          


 

 Making your own fun.

 

 

 


 

 Improvised BMX course.

It was here we had permission to stop. The farmer was combining barley and grandson Robbie was invited on-board. Despite the lack of a common language they got on like a house on fire.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

in 2008  we replaced the camping trailer with a Peugeot 'Symbol' For us, it was the height of luxury, with a cooker, 'fridge and bijou shower/ loo compartment.

                                                   Here we are tucked away in a Polish forest.
 

 Between times we have resorted on occasions to car and two-man tent, and in Australia we either bought and re-sold campervans or hired if on a shorter visit. We have also interspersed our trips with hotel packages and yes it’s nice to sit down to a meal prepared by someone else and to go to places less easily accessible to wild camping, but at the end of the day our prime favourite is camping out in the countryside.

Tony attending to our Australian cooking arrangements. It looks too green for Australia so maybe this was somewhere nearer home.

 

The end of the day beside the Loire.

 

Waking in the morning to the subdued quack of ducks and then a nightingale, loud and clear just beside us.
 

Due to Covid, our current van has been off the road but we are now contemplating putting it back on the road for a few little optimistic UK short trips, though wild camping is not an option here, now. An increasing rusty chassis foresees a limit to this chapter of our camping life. Who knows what next?

But a preponderance of wild camping has enabled us as a family and now us in our ageing years, to travel more, further and for longer, more cheaply, but principally and for us, most importantly, to live within the natural world.

 

 APOLOGIES FOR THE PICTURE QUALITY. MANY ARE  COPIES OF OLD SLIDES AND THE YEARS HAVEN'T BEEN KIND TO THEM.