Day seven: Boscastle. 31 December 2007

It was a damp and drizzly start to the last day of 2007, but I had my sights set on getting another stage done this year, so, after checking the calendar, I realised this would be my very last opportunity.

My destination was Boscastle, which has always been famous for its picturesque harbour. It has now become world famous as a result of the disastrous events of 2004. On 16 August 2004, Cornwall’s biggest natural disaster in living memory (mine, at least) happened here. The scale of the event can be summed up by the words of a call made by the emergency services requesting more assistance: “Pass to all emergency services. This is a major incident, repeat major incident. We request all the standby aircraft available and all available land-based emergency crews as we are in danger of losing Boscastle and all the people in it”. Even now, those words send shivers down my spine. Thankfully, there is still a Boscastle. Miraculously, no lives were lost. I take a particular interest in natural disasters and extreme weather, and I have never heard of such a major incident in which lives have not been lost. Huge credit must go to the emergency services who saved many lives that day. 80 vehicles (including five caravans) and six buildings were simply washed into the sea.

I’ll talk more about my own observations of Boscastle later, but for now, back to the walking (which is probably far less interesting, I admit!).

I parked up at the top of the village in an area known as Forrabury. By doing so I didn’t have to pay the tourist prices down in the village and I could be pretty sure my car wouldn’t be washed in to the sea. Not that we were forecast that kind of rain today (thankfully).

My first task after leaving the village was to cross the Jordan Valley, which contains one of the three rivers which burst its banks on that fateful day. I wasn’t off road for long, and I soon joined a country road which brought me to Minster Church. Surprisingly large inside (capacity of approximately 150), it was set in thick woodland on a steep slope. I was not surprised to find out that it had been seriously affected by the floods of 2004 and needed major work. The church was of a similar design to all the Anglican churches I would see today: grey, pretty but uninspiring, small. I signed the visitors’ book with this blog address and left.

After this, came the best walking of the day (apart from the coast), down through some thick woodland. It was raining by now, so I had to take it easy going down the steep hill. This route took me down to the bottom of the Valency valley; the water in the Valency River was the major contributor to the floods of 2004. I stood on the new footbridge for a few seconds, wondering what the river would have looked like that day. It must have been bad to take out the old bridge. Three years on, I could still see some evidence of uprooted trees. It would have been more than a river; it would have been a raging torrent.

I walked up the other side of the valley, eating a pack of extremely stale lemon and scampi flavoured nik naks on the way – they were chewier than chewing gum. I came out at St Juliot’s Church, yet again, seemingly in a completely unhelpful location for any nearby centres of population. Very similar in design to Minster, the setting was a bit more exposed. The most interesting thing about this church is that the architect for its major restoration project in 1870 was none other than Thomas Hardy (a fact I had no idea about when I left home this morning). It was also here that he met and fell in love with his wife, Emma Lavinia Gifford. Of course, everybody knows about Thomas Hardy the writer, but only few know about this side of him. I felt like I had made a real discovery.

From here, it was country road, and a steep down and very steep back up saw me reach Tresparrett. This small, modern village is the kind of place people would consider themselves lucky to live in. It is off the beaten track and has a pub and a Methodist church which seems to be active in the community. Tresparrett is proof that you don’t have to go to a place which has been unchanged for decades in order to find a proper community feel. Just around the corner is Marshgate, which contains the necessary amenities for these two small villages to be more or less self-sufficient.

I then headed down the main road towards the A39, taking a right. Before heading down this farm track, I noticed a sign on my right which stated that the footpath was closed. It also had details of a further 20 or so footpaths and minor roads which were still supposedly closed. The effects of the flooding may have been localised, but they were massive locally. I decided to go on down the track anyway, because not doing so would have meant either backtracking or taking a long diversion through Otterham Station which I hope to visit on a future stage. On reaching Trevenn Farm, I met the gentleman who lived there (possibly a farmer), and asked him about the footpath situation. He told me that it was still technically closed, but I shouldn’t have any major obstacle in getting through to my next settlement, Lesnewth.

Shortly after the farm, I was joined by a friendly black dog, who stayed with me for about a mile and a half. I am still convinced that even the friendliest of dogs are going to rip me from limb to limb (mainly due to my delivery job days), so I remained apprehensive for the first mile or so that he (or she?) was with me. Then, as I relaxed, the dog became a true companion for me, even a friend. When I went off into some gorse bushes to do my business, doggy (needs a name, umm... Patrick!) gave me the necessary privacy and waited for me so we could continue together. I reached a river at the bottom of a valley (probably the reason this particular footpath had been closed off), and I felt sure Patrick would head back, but no, he (definitely a ‘he’ now, he has a boy’s name) carried on with me. I began to wonder if he would go home. After using the full springiness of my legs, I noticed a footbridge just downstream. Still, I always have enjoyed jumping over things, especially rivers. Shortly after the river, I crossed over a fence. Patrick could easily have followed, but he clearly knew where his territory ended. Bye Patrick – you’re my favourite dog in the world and the only one who doesn’t value me purely for my nutritional value!

Steeply up over some fields to Helsett, and then Trewannion, which brought me out at a country road. Crossed over this and another field to bring me out at Lesnewth, my next settlement.
It was just a church and two or three houses, but it does seem to be well-known considering its size. The church was of a similar description to those I had already visited today, and its pews made the ideal place to stop for my chicken sandwiches (thank goodness I didn’t do this walk on Boxing Day, or they would have been turkey sannies!) Interestingly, the population of the entire parish is just 70, compared to 129 in 1871.

From the church, I went up over some fields and down into another steep valley – it was beginning to become clear why Boscastle was/is so susceptible to flooding. The footpath took me up to Tregrylls, one of these annoying places where the footpath seems to go right across the front garden! My route continued along high, exposed country roads, taking me up over 250 metres for the only time today. Some easy walking across fields followed, and then the long descent on a country road toward the coast. I passed what was marked as a church on my map. It was tiny and there was no obvious sign that it was still being used as a church. It was either disused as a church, or converted into a home, but neither option seemed very probable.
Just before I could hit the spectacular North Cornwall coast again, I had to pass through Trevalga. This was a lovely little village which clearly had not changed a lot for decades. I visited the Anglican church before heading on to the coast, always an eagerly awaited part of any walk in North Cornwall. And it didn’t let me down. Every time I go for a cliff walk on the North Cornish coast, I am reminded that they are the most impressive cliffs I have ever seen. The 100 metre plus sheer drops and huge waves make for a breathtaking scenario. I found a 24-hour manned coastguard at the top of the huge headland overlooking Boscastle harbour. It almost seemed a bit primitive with everything being done by technology these days, but I loved it. The human eye is still better than any technology.

From here, it was the descent into Boscastle harbour. The first thing I noticed was a bunch of flowers left by a man with a card for his wife who passed away six years ago. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to read the card, but I did anyway. All very emotional and romantic, but wasn’t sure how his late wife would take him telling her that he was with someone else now!
I walked the length of the long, narrow harbour to get to the village centre.Boscastle is a sizable village and it took me a couple of hours to explore it properly. The first thing I noticed was the world-famous Museum of Witchcraft. This museum ended up here after opposition from Christian groups in Warwickshire and the Isle of Man. This fact surprised me, as there has always been a strong tradition of Christianity in Cornwall. Perhaps it is simply due to the more accepting and tolerant nature of Cornish people.

Three years on, much of the harbour area is still a building site. It is a shame, because it does detract from the quaintness of the village. However, moving away from the harbour, much of the old village is still intact and no sign of flood damage can be seen. The odd house still has sandbags outside; presumably they will be a permanent fixture. It is hard to imagine what must go through the minds of the people of Boscastle when they hear the pitter patter of rain against the windows at night. I visited the Methodist church, which was just opposite the primary school – there was a great community feel about the place, so hopefully there are not many empty second homes. I made my way across the village to the Anglican church, my last of the day. From here, I admired the cliff top location of Boscastle Football Club, then went back to my car. What a fantastic walk and great way to end 2007!

My overriding feeling at the end of day seven was one of thankfulness – I was thankful that Boscastle was still there, and thankful that no people were lost, because having seen footage of the event, it would not have surprised me if the death toll was 100 or more. What an awesome job the Cornish rescue services did that day.

I think it was President Bush who said something like “America would not be America without New Orleans”. In much the same way, Cornwall really would not be Cornwall without Boscastle.

Places visited: 5 (total 53): Tresparrett (GR 145918), Marshgate (152918), Lesnewth (131903), Trevalga (081901), Boscastle (098913)

Altitude gained: 685 metres. Total: 4,385m

Highest altitude reached: 266m (GR 116887)

Total distance walked: 15 miles (cumul 115 miles), 8 on-road (cumul 66 miles), 7 off-road (cumul 49)

Started walking: 8.45am Finished walking: 4.15pm

Map used: OS explorer 111

Interesting links:

Some unbelievable footage of the floods: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F8Fy6dYRp5w

Some more: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tjqr6cjvo9Y

And more: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SxweiRNlHbo&feature=related

An awesome video taken from Polzeath just a few miles down the coast:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AszCGAETLt4

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boscastle

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boscastle_flood,_2004

http://www.boscastlecornwall.org.uk/church_lesnewth_info.htm

http://www.boscastlecornwall.org.uk/church_minster_info.htm

http://www.hardysociety.org/