To the Sea (or at least, the Channel)
Last weekend, we went south to the sea for a few days. Admittedly that's not very far away: one thing we are not short of in Cornwall is coast, but it makes for a nice change to wake up by the sea. We were staying in a hut on the cliff (when I say hut, that's what it introduced itself as.) This was the view from the garden, on the first morning.
Sadly the weather did not entirely keep this up, but after all it was March. The hut was a bit chillier than the dogs were used to, being, well, a hut (a nicely decorated hut though), with only basic heating. I had brought clothes for Rosie, but I hadn't thought to bring any for Brythen, and he woke up very early, sad and chilly. I had to pop home and pick up a jumper for him (advantage of a holiday not far from home!). He wasn't mad about wearing it, but he was definitely warmer and happier once he had got used to the idea.
The violets are out along the coastpath.
And the gorse too. I am sure I remember being taught at school that the sea is blue because of reflected light from the sky, but nobody had told the Cornish sea, which was determinedly being blue despite everything the sky could throw at it.
Pp painting miniatures and ignoring the Outside. It was about to pour with rain, to be fair.
We met a slithery local. This photo makes him look enormous.
This photo is slightly less flattering to the snake's vanity, but gives a clearer idea of why we were not terribly alarmed by him.
I assumed this was a war memorial, but no. It commemorates the beloved memory of one Edward Spencer and his sons Reginald and Sidney, drowned while bathing in 1875, and now doomed to an afterlife of people wandering past, going 'is that a war memorial... oh. Who on earth was Edward Spencer?' I wonder who planted the primroses?
Probably the longest walk we did was the one along from Rame Head to Cawsand. We were looking out for whales, which are sighted along there from time to time, but had no luck. I think Brythen was looking out for rabbits, though, and he saw some of those. And we saw some warships, performing strange girations with helicopters and speedboats.
I started this walk expecting it to be cold (hence Brythen showing off another jumper from his wardrobe) but it got quite hot as the day went on.
We found some strangely-huge steps (Pp included for scale). From the map, I think I've now worked out that the point of the steps is not to provide for any sea-giants who might want to walk up Penlee Point from the sea (although obviously we do have local giant-legends, so it's nice to know that these Cornish residents are suitably provided for), but to fill the shape of the point out so that it's possible to land a helicopter on the end of it, while not providing a precipice that wandering walkers, dogs etc might walk up to and then fall off too catastrophically.
And then we found... this. It was quite unexplained, no information board or label or donation box. Isn't it lovely? I later discovered that the Internet thinks that it is Queen Adelaide's Grotto (or, possibly, Chapel) built in 1927/1928 to commemorate the visit of King William IV and Queen Adelaide to the area. There is no explanation as to why they waited until 1927 to build a grotto for a queen who died in 1849, and surely can't have stayed long. I find the whole thing pleasingly mysterious.
Rosie is looking out to sea in a dramatic manner, again. There's a wreck out there somewhere. Well, there are probably loads of them, but the one that we later found an Important Sign about is the wreck of the Coronation, a 90-gun 'second rate' warship. It happened in 1691 when the Coronation was patrolling up and down the coast 'attempting to bring the French to battle' as the information sign put it. She had anchored off Rame Head to ride out a storm, but capsized and was sunk.
Finally, we got to Cawsand, and Oh joy! There was a shop open selling fish and chips (but not in this photo, because this photo is randomly of the gig rowing club, for some reason). It was all sunny and delightful by then.
There were even people out paddleboarding.
Actually, have another photo of the gig club, because I do love gigs. They are such slender, elegant-looking boats.
Oh, I forgot that we wandered past the Church of St Germanus in Rame, which I was attracted to partly because of St Germanus the Fighting Bishop who supposedly landed near Rame when he came to Britain in 400AD to fight the Pelagian heresy (causing some argument between me and Pp, because I get heresies muddled up. (Pelegianism is the one about achieving salvation through your own efforts without divine aid, I just looked it up.) The church was claimed as 11th century, which seemed a bit unlikely, but I looked that up as well, and it looks like the font at least really is that old, and most of the rest of it, including the weird spire which you can see from all along the coast here, is from 1259. That's earlier than I'd expected!
The font. They've looked after it, haven't they?
And here are some stones which had apparently been lying in a pile in the corner of the church for many years, until in 2016, a local history group decided to turn them over to find out what they were (expecting gravestones). But they aren't. They have the ten commandments written on them. The local history group think that they are probably from 1603, when James I brought in a new set of laws saying that all churches should have these.
Enough photos for now.
Sadly the weather did not entirely keep this up, but after all it was March. The hut was a bit chillier than the dogs were used to, being, well, a hut (a nicely decorated hut though), with only basic heating. I had brought clothes for Rosie, but I hadn't thought to bring any for Brythen, and he woke up very early, sad and chilly. I had to pop home and pick up a jumper for him (advantage of a holiday not far from home!). He wasn't mad about wearing it, but he was definitely warmer and happier once he had got used to the idea.
The violets are out along the coastpath.
And the gorse too. I am sure I remember being taught at school that the sea is blue because of reflected light from the sky, but nobody had told the Cornish sea, which was determinedly being blue despite everything the sky could throw at it.
Pp painting miniatures and ignoring the Outside. It was about to pour with rain, to be fair.
We met a slithery local. This photo makes him look enormous.
This photo is slightly less flattering to the snake's vanity, but gives a clearer idea of why we were not terribly alarmed by him.
I assumed this was a war memorial, but no. It commemorates the beloved memory of one Edward Spencer and his sons Reginald and Sidney, drowned while bathing in 1875, and now doomed to an afterlife of people wandering past, going 'is that a war memorial... oh. Who on earth was Edward Spencer?' I wonder who planted the primroses?
Probably the longest walk we did was the one along from Rame Head to Cawsand. We were looking out for whales, which are sighted along there from time to time, but had no luck. I think Brythen was looking out for rabbits, though, and he saw some of those. And we saw some warships, performing strange girations with helicopters and speedboats.
I started this walk expecting it to be cold (hence Brythen showing off another jumper from his wardrobe) but it got quite hot as the day went on.
We found some strangely-huge steps (Pp included for scale). From the map, I think I've now worked out that the point of the steps is not to provide for any sea-giants who might want to walk up Penlee Point from the sea (although obviously we do have local giant-legends, so it's nice to know that these Cornish residents are suitably provided for), but to fill the shape of the point out so that it's possible to land a helicopter on the end of it, while not providing a precipice that wandering walkers, dogs etc might walk up to and then fall off too catastrophically.
And then we found... this. It was quite unexplained, no information board or label or donation box. Isn't it lovely? I later discovered that the Internet thinks that it is Queen Adelaide's Grotto (or, possibly, Chapel) built in 1927/1928 to commemorate the visit of King William IV and Queen Adelaide to the area. There is no explanation as to why they waited until 1927 to build a grotto for a queen who died in 1849, and surely can't have stayed long. I find the whole thing pleasingly mysterious.
Rosie is looking out to sea in a dramatic manner, again. There's a wreck out there somewhere. Well, there are probably loads of them, but the one that we later found an Important Sign about is the wreck of the Coronation, a 90-gun 'second rate' warship. It happened in 1691 when the Coronation was patrolling up and down the coast 'attempting to bring the French to battle' as the information sign put it. She had anchored off Rame Head to ride out a storm, but capsized and was sunk.
Finally, we got to Cawsand, and Oh joy! There was a shop open selling fish and chips (but not in this photo, because this photo is randomly of the gig rowing club, for some reason). It was all sunny and delightful by then.
There were even people out paddleboarding.
Actually, have another photo of the gig club, because I do love gigs. They are such slender, elegant-looking boats.
Oh, I forgot that we wandered past the Church of St Germanus in Rame, which I was attracted to partly because of St Germanus the Fighting Bishop who supposedly landed near Rame when he came to Britain in 400AD to fight the Pelagian heresy (causing some argument between me and Pp, because I get heresies muddled up. (Pelegianism is the one about achieving salvation through your own efforts without divine aid, I just looked it up.) The church was claimed as 11th century, which seemed a bit unlikely, but I looked that up as well, and it looks like the font at least really is that old, and most of the rest of it, including the weird spire which you can see from all along the coast here, is from 1259. That's earlier than I'd expected!
The font. They've looked after it, haven't they?
And here are some stones which had apparently been lying in a pile in the corner of the church for many years, until in 2016, a local history group decided to turn them over to find out what they were (expecting gravestones). But they aren't. They have the ten commandments written on them. The local history group think that they are probably from 1603, when James I brought in a new set of laws saying that all churches should have these.
Enough photos for now.
