Mines in Pendeen

A day of mine visits, first to Greevor Tin Mine (not so old) and then Levant copper mine (old). You learn a lot about how the ores were extracted and the processes of refining and all that technical stuff, and it is all impressive, but some of the more day-to-day aspects grabbed my attention. Por ejemplo, boys as young as seven worked underground, life expectancy was about 27 years, women and girls performed some hard physical labour, such as breaking up the rocks with hammers, and horses were used in the mines.

To get horses into the mines, someone tied their legs, those of the horses, that is, up against their bodies and lowered them on platforms, deep into the mines, where they, the horses, LIVED for several years. There was a vet who took care of them, especially notable because there was no doctor for the miners. When the horses were brought up to the surface again, their eyes had to be covered for a time so that they could get used to the light. (How covering their eyes got them used to the light, je ne sais pas.)

The Levant mine ran under the sea. Its deepest and longest tunnels had very little air way out there under the ocean, as you can imagine, and it was very hot. All mining conditions are terrible, but this seemed unusually horrible.

How did the miners get up and down, you may wonder. Ladders. It took two hours for a miner to climb from the bottom to the top—maybe just as long to go the other way, I don't know—so a kind of escalator was developed. This was a platform that was lowered (and raised) at twelve foot increments. A miner would have to hop off one platform and catch the next one as a miner, going in the opposite direction did the same. This worked pretty well until the mechanism broke and something like 39 miners were killed. After this, they went back to the ladders.

When the mines were prosperous, investors sometimes made 1000 times their investment. Isn't it always that way! Maybe not exactly THAT way!

Arsenic is a by product of tin (not sure about copper), so the men who worked extracting and/or purifying that metal wore protective clothing, like hazmat suits, and put clay on their faces. Inter alia, a brilliant green pigment made using arsenic was important in wall paper design, and people had to have their wall paper despite all.

Tin cans were developed around 1810. They were so thick and heavy at first that they were opened by being whacked by a hammer. The invention of the can opener came later.

As one walks the path in this area, one sees many ruins. Here is part of one:





And here is the whole thing!




I was pretty mined out after four hours, and actually skipped out of the lecture on steam engines because It was clear that it was going to go on forever and my head was about to explode from information. Besides, I had places to go in the rain, in my boots that leak with my phone that, I discovered, is really not working at all...no wi-fi, nada.

By and by I encountered a bovine of the male gender. Excuse me, Mr. young bull, I am coming through and I hope that my orange rain jacket will not make me say Olé as we pass each other:





One of his friends. Bulls are nowhere near as good looking as cows, and that is all there is to it:



More quadrupeds! He's eyeing my walking poles, he is:



A sweet stone bridge with fancy rails



Here it is in the distance and in the mist, Cape Cornwall:



which everyone is now calling the New Land's End because everyone seems to hate Land's End due to its having become a commercial sprawl. Tomorrow I will find out for myself.

Hydrangeas:


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Location:St Just

Off to Pendeen

In Zennor, one awakes to the cock-a doodle-do of the rooster as opposed to the cry of the gull. Both avian creatures like to make themselves heard at about the same early hour.

Pendeen, seven miles distant from Zennor—but eleven miles by the time I got through with it—is not a regulation stage, but I wanted to tour the tin mines here, so an overnight was the best way to accomplish that. And the walk was so stunning, that I am glad I didn't rush it. Besides, it was slow going due to lots of twisty, turny, rocky, steep, sometimes muddy paths. Perhaps youngsters can gambol along such kind of terrain, pero yo, no.

View from a bridge:



One of the special touches of walking these routes is seeing benches, often dedicated to someone, at strategic viewing points. "Come and sit," they seem to say, "Enjoy the view."



I took an extra little detour to a point where there were.....ROCKS! Note how Mother Nature improves on the sculptures made by the guy in St Ives:



Remnant of a tin mine:



Whoa!! Super majestic rocks:



Nice wild horsey!



In a few years, this outcropping will be dressed all in green:



Is Hotline not the perfect name for an electric fence company?


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Location:Pendeen

On to Zennor

St Ives:




The guy whose job it is to follow the street sweeping truck is carrying a whip (at least that it what it looked like). Better get out of the way:




A fisherman:




What this sign is saying—it is faint, after all, is that the fence us electric, so you had better carefully lift and then replace the plastic blue handle as you pass through:



Fetching, little, stone bridge:




There were lots of rocks today:



Boulders you had to climb over, go around, or somehow make your way through. It was lots of fun:



Really, a lot of rocks:



The walking was enjoyable and gorgeous, and so the day ended at sunset in Zennor:


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Location:Zennor

St. Ives rest day

Rest day to day did not kick off withe a 20+ mile bike ride, but was spent museum-ing and arting.

The sizable St. Ives Museum displays lots and lots items having to do with mining, ship building, ship traveling, agriculture, and other daily life sorts of things plus some clothing from the Victorian era and fabrics. The clothing was what captured my attention. All of it was exquisitely made, and some was very delicate. The baby clothes....all I could wonder was, "Did the babies, even the most special babies on the most special occasions of that era, not spit up or poop out of their diapers that they could be dressed is such elegance?" Alas, photo taking was not allowed, so you can't see any of the marvelous creations.

There is a lot of art in St. Ives and a lot of non-art that calls itself art. I got to see both kinds.

This guy, yeah, the one whose lower half is in the photo, builds these little cairn-like towers out of the rocks on the beach. The most "spectacular" one—because you see, they have to balance—was four rocks high. He has an ingenious little chute (not shown) rigged up for photographers, comme moi, down which one is to throw some coinage:



The highlight of St. Ives is the Barbara Hepworth Museum (there is a branch of the Tate Modern here, but it is under renovation until some time in 1917) whose sculptures bear some similarities to those of Moore. Aside from indoor displays, a wonderful sculpture garden exhibits pieces beautifully placed within the foliage, like this tall piece backgrounded by a stand of bamboo:



The schpiel that tells you about her work describes it as having "pagan beauty." Perhaps someone would like to explain what the heck PAGAN beauty is as opposed to, say, some other kind of beauty.

Here is another work remarkable in its delicateness compared to most other pieces:




Here is one not in the garden, but showing the Moore connection:





Then I happened upon a super gallery that had paintings, jewelry and ceramics. These miniatures, done by a Japanese artist were exquisite. Each one, no matter how tiny, is shaped, glazed and finished to perfection, and the date each was made is carved in the bottom:



I wonder whether, among Japanese, there is a special affection for the miniature.....they being masters of the netsuke and all.

Still life with cat (from a different gallery) for the cat lovers. You know who you are!



Shoes made out of chocolate! It reads: What every woman wants, chocolate choos:



The arts experience did not cease with the visual. There was also the theatrical! A live performance of Richard III, featuring such heavies as Ralph Fiennes and Vanessa Redgrave, televised from London, was being shown in St.Ives. ¡Qué suerte! I was feeling guilty, though, that I would probably leave during intermission because the running time, 210 minutes, does not jive with the schedule of a walker. It turned out, however, that the disappointing production made exiting easy! First, everything was very black...the staging, the clothing, black. There was a gold crown floating above the stage, but the camera did not capture it that often. Fiennes merely played at playing Richard. Once in a while he gave a snort or smirked, but that was not enough, Mr. Fiennes! In fact it seemed that each actor was in his/her own orbit shrieking their lines with no cadence or nuance. Sort of like, "It's my turn now! My turn." Then there was the modernization aspect, employed with unclear purpose. Cell phones were cleverly used a couple of times—someone asks, "What news, Cousin?" And Cousin whips out his iPhone 6—and the clothing was, I don't know, maybe contemporary, but it was all so black, who could tell, really? Glad I went! Glad I left!


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Location:St Ives

Going to St. Ives

As I was going to St. Ives
I did not meet the seven wives
Of one who charged so many lives
But may they journey on forever
And here's to them whatever the weather.

An intense spot of colour on a grey morning:



These cows, as you pass by them, stampede to meet you, but this morning, one thought she was a bull, which, as you can see, disrupted the spectacle somewhat:



One reason it is wonderful to be on the trail by 7:00, is that because it is not peopled, it is easier to spot these markers through the multi-pathed dunes:



Oh! Someone lives here:



The variety of grasses, gorse, heather, bushery, and flowers that grow in the sand is quite remarkable. This was an unusual patch in that it almost looks landscaped:




The Blue Bay Café respectfully requests that customers use the side entrance:



There is a LOT to be be-warned about before heading down to this beach:




Got it:




What, would you think, is the penalty for THIS offense?


I'm thinking the slammer!


No raucous activity on the beach here, surfers. But wait. Just what area is THIS area?



Four and twenty of these might make a decent pie:



Fudge shoppe window with plastic dancing lady:


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Location:St. Ives

Slow photo day

But somewhat long on confusion. B and B is quite off the path—it is worth the trek, for sure—but figuring out how to get here, being misdirected, walking on major roads in the heat of the day, in circles, and then having a mile+ schlep up a track-like road, was, shall we say, annoying. On arrival, a hot cup of tea and a delicious piece of saffron cake with butter, served in the garden, made the tiredness vanish.

Wild Shetland ponies:



A boat in the big blue sea looks so wee from shore:



And a lighthouse:



Among these rocks do live seals. There are signs around telling visitors to be VERY QUIET so as not to frighten them. Who knew that seals were so sensitive? But I, alas, did not see any of our little-eared, barking, flippered friends. ¡Qué lástima!



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Location:Gwithian

Sunny snd hot

Some lucky ladies exiting the beach in style:




But before 6:00 a.m, the birds have it all to themselves:



Soon the humans invade:




Go to Youtube and write in "Cliff collapse in the UK" and you will get to see what unstable can mean:



ALWAYS go with the acorn:



Selfie (unintentional) in moonscape sort of terrain:



Big hole with HAT:




Crooked tree and bench:




Disturbing, though it is not meant to be:



Steep down along perimeter of Military Defense Area:



Followed by steep up:




Heather against the cliffs:



And another beautiful day of walking is over.


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Location:Perrranporth