A Walk in the Cornish Woods

I am knackered and I have a suspicion. Good combination, the two. I am on my way to turning into a big Cornish cow, it seems. A steady two-day diet of scones, pasties, tarts, full-fat ice creams, butter biscuits and onion rings are fuelling these thoughts. Is it possible that the waistband of your jeans can scream out to you within such a short span of time?

The scoffing has been going stronger post a long, steep climb through woods in the smuggling villages of the area. The walk started early in the heart of du Maurier country, in the fishing village of Bodinnick, where our beloved author of Rebecca lived with her mother and sisters after they moved to Cornwall from London. Ferryside is a lovely cottage (you will see it in the earlier post of mine that I have linked to above) with blue pipings framing its doors and windows. What a view the young Daphne must have had. The turquoise waters of the river Fowey that turn a mysterious emerald green when the skies are not so blue. Today, her son lives in Ferryside. I am quite inspired to turn up at his doorstep. Adi is suitably alarmed and has been concocting plans that involve us not returning to Fowey.

A two-second ferry from Fowey took us into Bodinnick for the walk that started once we climbed steep roads past blue and yellow cottages, the doors of which were strung charmingly ala mode, with Easter egg wreaths.  If you go for walks in the English countryside, you will get directions that ask you to proceed past old school houses and church gates. Crossing Two-Turn Lanes, past the sheep that guards the gate into his grassy knoll of heaven… you get the drift. Once you make it past those stellar signposts into the woods, you strike gold. If you have not made it to those landmarks, friend, you are doing it all wrong. You are probably in another country.

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Abandoned houses of Fowey
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Fowey harbour from where ferries have run since the 13th century, it is said.
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The waters of Fowey from the ferry. The likes of a Nessie would be caught out here.
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The inn that Daphne du Maurier must have seen when she came into the village in the 1920s to move into her new home.
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The climb gets steep in Bodinnick once you are off the ferry. To make way for more tea-time glories such as scones, cakes, fudges… you know, the works. 
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The Easter theme prevails in Bodinnick.
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There you go. Church gates that are crucial to walks in the woods. 
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Views from the woods above Bodinnick.

Following in Acton’s footsteps

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Abandoned water mills near Polruan.

I shall have to continue this into the next post because the babbling is going worse, now that I can barely keep my eyes open. But I have to say this that the skies outside at this time of the night are speckled with stars. Those cloudy skies of the early part of the day suddenly cleared up during the course of the noon and we got such pretty and clear skies that the stars have come out in all their glory. They have declared that the inky black dome is theirs. Life should be so. Lived beneath such vast swathes of sky that are unfettered by the trammel of city lights, busy dreams and a trifle anxious brooding on what’s gonna happen tomorrow.

 

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24 thoughts on “A Walk in the Cornish Woods

    1. Thank you, Nisha 🙂 The Carolinas are gorgeous from what I have made out from photos. Would love to explore them some day. My husband studied in North Carolina so he always tells me about it. Would love to see your part of the world in your posts 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’m sure you will love it like your husband said , would love to read the travel diary post and your perspective when you explore here 🙂 am yet to take pictures this spring and will surely post when I do!

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  1. Oh this place must be so lovely! Amazing photographs!
    Concerning the waistband of your jeans- I feel you!
    Currently my jeans are screaming out to me every morning 😀
    But I love scones, they are too delicious to be left out… 😀

    Liked by 1 person

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