On the way to St Ives

After the foggy day we woke to a foggy morning at Perranporth. Walked through miles of old mine works, slag piles, shafts covered by conical cages.

Then the landscape opened up as the fog cleared. More old mines. Engine houses with their chimneys that used to power the mines and pump out water from the shafts.

A strangely bluish-greenish tinged giant dinner-plate-sized mushroom. Traces of copper?

Miles and miles of horrible steps, up and down beside a large Ministry of Defense area, nothing happening that we could see apart from acres and acres of cabbages growing.

Another overnight stay in a B&B in a strange little harbour town that was described as a former industrial harbour.

The next day began with a big hill of course, and then lovely easy cliff top walking and some shetland ponies.

Seals at the bottom of cliffs at Hells Mouth

More seals lazing in the sunshine at Godrevy.

Godrevy Lighthouse. The inspiration for Virginia Woolf's 'To the Lighthouse.'

Around the corner were the long golden sands of Gwithian and in the distance on the other side of the bay - St Ives.

But first the endless hot labyrinth of dunes behind the beach, past several large  'concentration camp' holiday caravan-chalet parks full of sunbaked poms.

We would never had emerged alive if it were not for the many beautiful slate markers. As it was we only just survived the heat.

Finally we did a short train ride to a rather boring town called Camborne that we'd chosen for a rest day and because we could get a place to stay that let us use a kitchen and washing machine. We planned to stay for 3 nights and use our second day to walk to St Ives and see some art, but I got food poisoning during the night and spent the next day in bed. Yep - in England. As far as we can tell, it was some new nuts I'd bought as that was only thing I'd eaten that Sheryl did not eat. Thankfully there are no pics to illustrate this.

On the way to St Ives. Some serious bird watchers at the Hayle estuary.

The church of St Uny at Lelant where I think one of my ancestors married. Some familiar surnames in the graveyard and on the WWI honour list. The unusual roof style seems to be typical in this area.

St Ives - loved by artists for the quality of its light which is incredibly sharp and bright, even with sea fog drifting in and out.

At low tide people wander across the sandy harbour, children and dogs play around the stranded boats.

The 2 week St Ives arts festival had justed started. We watched this man creating transient sculptures by balancing rocks on top of each other. The high tide will wash them away.  Note the St Ives church with its four roof structure.

More artists, channeling Johnny Depp from the Pirates of Penzance movies.

The Tate Modern in St Ives which displays and celebrates the artists who moved here during the 20th century - Ben Nicolson, Barbara Hepworth and many others. Opened in 1993, the building is an art work in itself.

A real Picasso!

Another painting I liked.

This is the view of the beach through a window. Another "artwork."

Barbara Hepworth - sculptor.

Her works just entice you to touch, caress - but of course, you are not allowed.

We also visited her house and studio.

The garden was a total surprise. I knew there was a garden but to find something of this scale and lushness hidden behind walls on the narrow steep crowded streets of St Ives was astounding.

And then the fog really closed in but St Ives still glowed luminous.

The next few days will take us around Lands End, England's most westerly point and through the land of my Cornish ancestors.