Sunday, May 16, 2010


A few days in deepest Cornwall reminded me that you do not have to cross continents to find outstanding beauty. This outstretched limb of Britain, flailing out into the wild Atlantic to the island's most Southerly and Westerly points is as spectacular and awe-inspiring as any stretch of coastline I have seen around the world. Proud granite cliffs and jagged rock formations stand proud yet battered against high, violent seas. This show of force is broken by golden sand beaches. Some are small coves sheltered by arms of rock, others wide expanses stretching for miles. In all cases the waves keep rolling in.
Humanity has prevailed here for millennia. Ancient standing stones in green fields divisioned by Medievil stone walls. Crumbling 19th century mine-heads remind of tunnels reaching under the sea for copper. Picturesque fishing ports show rare instances of man taming the wilderness with beauty. Thoughts of smugglers abound.
I love this place. My great-granfather is bured just up the road and I feel at ease. A different country to where I abode. People take time, are humble and friendly. A reminder of what is important. Lying atop the wind-swept cliffs staring past the wild-flowers to where land and sea collide, my mind drifts with the swooping gulls.
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