Cornwall: Searching for Poldark

It was Christmas Day, and most sensible people were feasting on delectable festive morsels in their centrally heated dining rooms or lounging about in their equally cosy living rooms, happily sheltering indoors from the wild winds and squally rain being dealt out by Storm Barbara. Not us! We were on holiday. We couldn’t waste daylight hours indoors. Instead, we rugged up in winter woollies, scarves, hats, gloves and anoraks, and went searching for Poldark!

Well, to be truthful, we went looking for the wheel houses and other remains of tin mines we had noticed on our way home the previous evening and then got a bit carried away in a more general search for Cornwall’s mining heritage, following the seams of ore and old mining tramways from one side of the Cornish peninsula to the other.

First up was a mine that must remain nameless because, although I can find it on a map, I haven’t yet discovered its name and therefore none of its history. This wheel house was part of a much larger complex, the ruins of which could vaguely be discerned under a thick covering of gorse and scrub.

We drove onwards, looking for mining symbols on our map and, by chance rather than good navigation, we arrived at St Agnes Head where we hit pay dirt. We parked near the National Coastwatch lookout station and walked to the cliff edge to scan the coastline for ruins, and there, not too far south, through the mist / low cloud / drizzle / fog / squally rain we could just make out a chimney.

- a protective cover over an old mine shaft and old dynamite blast holes

Luckily, the gale-force winds were sweeping in off the sea rather than blowing us towards the vertigo-inducing cliff edges, so south we headed, staggering along trails that would originally have been forged by miners trudging to and from work each day.

We had discovered Whealcoates, where records of mining date from as far back as 1692, though archaeologists have shown that men were digging for ore on the surface as early as the Middle Ages. The most recent mine opened in 1802, closed in 1889, reopened in 1911, then closed for good in 1913.

The ruins we saw that day include engine houses dating from 1880 and 1910, the gas engine foundations dating from 1910-13, dressing floors from the 1870s, and, one of the most photographed ruins in the whole of Cornwall, the dramatically sited Towanroath Shaft engine house, perched further down the cliffs, nearest to the sea.

At its peak Whealcoates employed around 140 miners and its tin was transported along tramways to be shipped to national and foreign shores from the ports of Portreath, Hayle, St Agnes and Truro.

In spite of the weather – or, perhaps, because of it, because it gave us more of an insight into the difficult conditions faced by the miners on a daily basis – exploring the mining ruins at Whealcoates that day was one of our best experiences in Cornwall. It was certainly a Christmas Day to remember.

Cornwall: The signs of St Ives

The actual mining may have finished long ago but Cornwall still trades heavily on its mining heritage. Not only are the former mines, their archaeological remains and their history museums big tourist drawcards but even the bus companies take advantage of the county’s mining legacy.

This claim is questionable! Do they mean this bakery has been making Cornish pasties for a longer time than any other? Or do they mean their baker is a really really really old person? We also saw various other bakeries making claims about their pasties and pasty-making: the tastiest, the best, those that had received awards and recommendations.

Sadly, we saw no seals to approach or feed but, apparently, Grey seals can be seen year round at St Ives as there’s a large colony across Carbis Bay at Godrevy Point. An article in The Telegraph explains that the signs were put up because people have been swimming close to seals in the summer months, seemingly ignoring the fact that seals are wild creatures not summertime plamates!

Lugger is the name given to the sailing vessels traditionally used for fishing off the west Cornish coast. Not only were they designed for fishing but they also needed to be fast in the water, to get their daily catch to market as quickly as possible, usually in a race against their fellow fishermen. The speed achieved by the Lloyd is said to have been faster than most modern-day racing yachts!

You’d think this warning would be unnecessary and that common sense would prevail. The sign’s presence on the harbour railing indicates otherwise.

A couple of beers on a hot sunny summer’s afternoon and, ooops, over you go!

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Sitting just across the road from the RNLI Lifeboat Station, the Lifeboat Inn is the perfect location for eating a meal while enjoying stunning views across St Ives harbour. 

Apparently, this is not an old pub – I read the building used to be an auction room but, if the hype is true, it’s now doing a very good imitation of a traditional harbour-side pub.    

The Three Ferrets was my favourite of a wonderful variety of signs I discovered in St Ives, though I’m not sure I’d enjoy drinking there. This from the St Ives tourism website:  

Local back street hostelry, which has been variously a stable, a munitions factory and a funeral director’s office. It is now a no-frills although still friendly one bar boozer ... It attracts an interesting cross-section of drinking society but mainly the younger drinker, and the lively, sometimes boisterous atmosphere (especially evenings) reflects this.