Then There Was This Place: Carn Euny

As we were driving towards the southern end of Cornwall, I spied a brown sign, one of those that indicates a historical site. Carn Euny, it said.

We turned into the lane and it was truly the narrowest of any of the roads we'd been on so far. The hedges scratched the car on both sides and towered over us as we drove along. Rain was threatening, no doubt blown in by that strong wind we experienced at Hell's Mouth.

 Several miles in, we found the place we were looking for. We weren't sure but this nice neighbor assured us we were on the right track.

I don't know how to describe this path. The gardens on each side are huge, tall, extensive and maintained by one man who lives in a stone house at the path's beginning. I have never seen 20-foot tall blue hydrangeas before!

The path to the carn led over this stone stile.

 We met the neighbor yet again. Her dogs were completely friendly and we had a nice chat.

And then, in the middle of a pasture field, we were there:

 Trenches, stone walls and tunnels are about all that is left of this village, built in prehistoric times with thatched roofs.

Larry exploring one of the tunnels.

I went through as well. So intriguing, so full of mystery. Who built it? Why underground like this? For protection against attack, or from the weather?

Then we found the entrance to an underground circular hut.

Inside it was dry and comfortable--the rain had started so we settled down to eat our lunch.

I wondered, who last touched this stone? How long ago? Did they live here or was this larger space a communal gathering place? Was the fireplace for heat or ritual burning?

We could see the sun had broken through so we finished our lunch and headed back outside.

Standing just above the village, trying to get a photo of the layout of the place.

 It was starting to sprinkle again, but I wanted to follow the path further on, to see what might be ahead...

Next post: the secret artist.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

On Bodmin Moor: Hurlers, Engines, Quarry, and a Stone Hut

was beginning to catch up with us. Both of us were tired after leaving Boscastle. I wanted to go to Tintagel, but Larry was worn out and just wanted to go find our b&b and have a long evening to rest. He'd been doing all the driving, and it had to be wearing on him.

So we set off to find Minions, up on Bodmin Moor. All Doc Martin fans are familiar with this place and the term "going dodmin" which means going a little crazy, apparently because the constant winds on the moor can do that to a person. The Urban Dictionary online defines it as

 "going bodmin:
(Brit) Someone who is going wandering around the moors (originally bodmin moors of Cornwall), ghost like 
Ancient divination describes bodmin as gothic symbol for murder and madness. 
Commonly mistaken for Barmy 
Someone who is going Bodmin is someone who is highly anti social but very disciplined."

In 1815 a mental institution was built on Bodmin Moor so going bodmin or gone bodmin could refer to a person being sent to that institution.You can read some of the fascinating history of the hospital here.

I hoped that the following day we would be able to find The Hurlers, a group of 3 stone circles up on the moor and apparently not far from our b&b.

Again, an indescribable drive, surrounded by natural beauty wherever we looked.

And then we saw this place at the side of gthe road. What was it? We looked around and saw several over crumbling stone structures. Was it a house? It was oddly built if so. We saw a parking area and pulled in to investigate.

An engine house! Really? But for what?

Inside the building the visitors' center displays explained what we were seeing. These were working tin mines (thinking of the BBC series Poldark?) on Bodmin, as well as cooper, coal, and even silver and gold.The displays have detailed information on the pre-history and history of the moors. But what were those engines houses for? How did they work, because obviously these were built before electricity and other modern technology was available.

I searched online when I got home to discover the answer. I found some interesting information on this site but not an explanation of the engine houses. But when I found the name of the engine that was used, I also had my search term--the atmospheric steam engine, and once again Wikipedia provided the answer to my perplexing problem.

The problem with mining in Britain, until the advent of the atmospheric steam engine by Thomas Newcomen in 1712, was that the mines could not be very deep because they would fill with water. These coal-powered, steam-driven engines provided the power needed to pump the water from the mines, making it profitable to dig deeper than ever before. Mining blossomed in Cornwall after the pumps came into common use in the mid 1700's. However, eventually James Watt designed a steam engine with improved efficiency and power, and by the late 1700's the Newcomen engine had seen its heyday. There are some remains in Midlothian, Virginia, however, that seem to indicated a Newcomen engine was in use there in an early coal mine. Watts engine went on to become the foundation of the industrial revolution, and he designed a steampowered boat which would be the precursor of the steamboats built in America that greatly influenced the opening of the West. But that is another story.

Back to Bodmin. How odd it was to find this sophisticated display area inside what we assumed was a ruin!

When we read the panels, we realized that we had stumbled on the very place we planned to visit the next day: the site of The Hurlers stone circles. It was just a short walk to the stones. I was worried Larry was too tired, but he was as eager as I was to find them so off we went. And soon, there they were in front of us.

I cannot say why I find these stone monuments so compelling. They are after all, just rocks like the hundreds of others lying about. But someone, far back before we can even imagine, set these multi-ton stones in place, and for some purpose we can only guess at.

They are called the Hurlers after a type of ball game played in Britain and Ireland, and legend has it that these stones were once groups of players who were turned to stone for playing on a Sunday.

Beyond the stone circles was the Cheesewring, an old quarry with an iconic cairn on top. (Again, Doc Martin fans will recognize this!). It was a steep climb and we were tired but up we went.

We didn't make it to the top--the way looked too treacherous and Larry wasn't wearig his walking shoes. But we were content with the view from where we stopped. The valley stretched for miles beyond us.

We were so close to the top, but I am glad we didn't attempt the rest of the climb. The grass was damp and slippery, my vertigo was beginning to bother me, so we made our way back down the hill.

I loved this place, and felt so at home here, as I did everywhere we went in Cornwall.

Larry often offers to take my photo, and usually I say no, but this time I agreed. I think these are some of my favorite photos of me :)

Looking back down at the Hurlers.

The holes, I learned are the remains of prehistoric mining efforts. I wonder what they were digging for? Gold? Silver? Coal?

Sheep and ponies were everywhere on this open access land, so we had to watch our step.

Finally, we found our way down this narrow, rutted lane...

to our home for the night, the tiny stone building on the far right in this photo.

No one was home at the hosts' house, but a note on the door told us what to do and soon we were settled in.

Small but cozy: our bed,

 a fridge and hot pot, tea and coffee makings,

and a big screen TV. Bathroom was 100 feet down the hill in a different building. All the comforts!

We got unpacked an headed out to "the highest pub in Cornwall" for supper.

And then to sleep!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Ancient Stones, Ancient Hill: Avebury and Silbury

I have wondered what the suffix "bury" means on a place name, since we seemed to see so many of them. So I looked it up on my return and learned that it means a fortified enclosure. There is a great website that explains many of the recurring prefixes and suffixes found on place names, so have a look here if you are also curious.

Our goal for our second day in England was to find two prehistoric sites, Avebury with its stone circles (similar to Stonehenge) and Silbury Hill, a large manmade earthen mound.

Through the window so odd reflections. I was so excited to finally be there!

There is nothing like driving through the English countryside. The greens are indescribable, the roads almost all edged with trimmed hedges, fields of sheep and cattle. I have never seen so many sheep in my lifetime, I swear. Even though there are about 53 million people in the country, there is still much open land and very active farming. I think this is because of their long-entrenched custom of living in villages and towns, in smaller homes than we Americans are used to. Many of the homes are what we would call townhouses or row houses. Villages have most of the essential services. There is no real need for a large plot of land to call your own because the country is crisscrossed with public footpaths so people are free to almost wander at will across farms and private land. It goes back, I suppose to the early days when almost all travel was by foot or by horse, and those old paths have remained in place for centuries. Today they are very much in use both for pleasure and just getting about. I wish the US had such a system of trails. We're getting more every year, but we have a lot of catching up to do on this one--because here, of course, we did not have centuries to develop the network before the advent of the automobile which quickly became our main mode of transport.

We found Silbury first. It wasn't hard to find for sure, since it dominates the landscape around it. A bus full of Italian tourists were at the site when we arrived, apparently on a spiritual rather than a historic tour. They stood for a long time very quietly, most with their hands stretched toward the hill. We were quiet too, so as not to disturb whatever experience they were striving for.

No one knows who built Silbury or why. There have been some excavations over the years to determine if it was a burial mound and some of these caused some serious damage to the limestone structure of the hill. Fortunately those efforts have stopped and repairs were done to stop the effects of the digging. Silbury is the largest manmade mound in Europe at almost 100 feet high. The mound was built around 2500-2000 BC and may have been used for defensive purposes. The odd thing is that there were several other intriguing structures, such as the Avebury henge (stone circle) built in the area at about the same time.

In West Virginia we have the Grave Creek Mound in Moundsville, which is almost as big as Silbury, at 62 feet tall. Grave Creek was definitely a burial mound, as excavations in the 1800's discovered, and was built about 1000 BC. It does make one wonder, doesn't it, if that British mound-building culture somehow traveled to the Americas? What cultural beliefs inspired the building of such labor-intensive, time-consuming structures?

It was time for lunch so we stopped at a pub along the way. Good soup, bread, tea and coffee in front of this pretty window was just right.

 We moved on to Avebury and its stone circles. I've not been to Stonehenge but many people assured me that Avebury was far better, because it was less crowded, you could walk freely about the stones, and it was a larger site with several stone circles within the area. We did try to get to Stonehenge on our last day in England, but the place was jam-packed with people and that was not the kind of experience I wanted or needed. But Avebury--yes, that place was just amazing.

There were people at Avebury, but the nice thing was that it wasn't crowded, there was no guide to control how long we could stay at any given place, and we could take our time. Which we did! The Italian tour was here, too, touching and leaning on the stones with their eyes closed. I hope they found what they were seeking.

Some photos of what we saw here:

It was difficult to get a photo that really shows the massiveness of the stones and the site. Aerial photo needed! 

This is actually one of the smaller stones in the circle. Old man added for size comparison ;)

Odd little things embedded in the stones, like this, which looks like a seashell.

All around, green rolling fields.

 Old farm buildings gave us an interesting look at thatch.

 A fairy tree stood on a small hill. We saw several of these in our travels. The roots on this one, which I believe was a beech, were beautiful patterns.

Looks like mossy rows in a field, doesn't it? But actually, 

it's the mossy roof of an old building.

The church on the grounds was beautiful too. That is one thing I grew accustomed to--lovely old churches are everywhere in England. This one is Saxon, about 1000 years old. Difficult to comprehend in America, isn't it, that such old buildings could exist?

The oak parish chest dated 1634, which would contain all church records--baptisms, deaths, marriages, etc.

The round font is also old, and full of history. From the church website: "The tub font is possibly of Saxon origin but has detailed carving of the first quarter of the 12th century. It was apparently done by a local stonemason and probably shows Christ trampling on two dragons, representing evil and sin. However the figure holds a crosier and so has also been held to represent a bishop, although Professor George Zarnecki believes that the rustic sculptor misunderstood the picture that he was copying and added the crosier."

We ended our visit with a cream tea at the cafe onsite, where we had a lovely chat with an elderly couple who had returned because they had left some purchases behind the day before. Someone had turned the bag in and they were quite happy about it. It was a nice way to end the day's exploration.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.