Cornwall Recce 2018…
‘There is a certain atmosphere about the place,
an echo of a life that is hidden deep in the recesses of the mind.’
If our hotel room had any windows we would be able to see St Michael’s Mount, but the tide is at present unfavourable and we will not be able to get there until after-noon.
With more than a goodly number of sites to go at, many of them close to major routes, we are not expecting our morning to be idle…
The Green Goddess lurched violently as she swung around the almost impossible corner, before her steady growl returned, and then a roar of satisfaction as she contemplated yet another ‘worm-hole’ through the space-time continuum…
“What is Carn Euny anyway?”
“It’s a prehistoric village.”
For the first time that day the mist which had descended with our arrival began to show signs of lifting.
And beyond it, the sun…
It was hard to believe that anyone else could have found the place but in amongst the well positioned stones and wild grasses, a lone baseball cap bobbed.
Patience can be key but when patience fails a well turned chant usually does the trick.
We did have a date with the tides to consider, after-all…
“And the Fogou?”
“Is up for grabs.”
“Last line of defence?”
“I’d say this was a sweat lodge.
Bring in hot stones. Pour on water…”
“…And journey to the Spirit World.”
“It still retains its air of sanctity.”
And just as we started to chant the sun shone in…
… We had been at the mercy of the tides before.
At Lindisfarne we were stranded on the ‘island’ for eight hours.
This time we were ‘stranded’ on the mainland…
There is something about cause-wayed isles that speaks to the soul.
We wonder why anyone would choose to sail over.
Our fellow ‘pilgrims’ have, for the most part, dressed for the sun and they set off over the causeway before the tide has fully receded.
They appear largely unaware of the ‘why’ of their presence there. So we watch the birds instead. And they explain to us how the ‘line’ does not pass through the castle…