A muddy walk from Coad's Green

Reconnoitre: To perform a reconnaissance (of an area; an enemy position); to scout with the aim of gaining information.

And that was the intention behind the walk we did recently. Every now and again we lead a day for one of our groups and we like to try somewhere less frequently trodden by the boots of our friends. The object of the exercise was to see what the route is like, to sort out any problems and to gauge its suitability for the people we have in mind. Here's what we learnt on this particular recce:

* This is a walk for the drier months of the year. It's been a long time since we've sloshed through so much mud. And it was top class clingy claggy Cornish mud: the sort that gets everywhere.
*  With the numerous stiles we came across (maybe around 25?), we'll have to think carefully about the agility of any group we lead this way (sad to say, we are all getting older and we probably aren't too far from looking for Zimmer-negotiable routes).
*  Just because the map says there's a footpath there, it ain't necessarily so. Looking for one such probably added 1/2 mile to the walk. And there were a few other, shall we say, 'ambiguous' moments.
*  When working out a route for the GPS, the more data points I use, the more accurate the estimated distance will be. And that contributed to why a 'just over 6 miles' walk ended up being a 9 mile trek. Mea culpa.

Having said all that, the views (when we could see them through the showers and clouds) were a real treat. All in all, a great day to be out in the countryside. And  any exercise is good to get.

The route we took started in Coad's Green, just 4 miles from us, dropped down to Bathpool, followed the Inny for a mile or so and then returned via North Hill. The strange shape was due to my trying to extend the distance to something reasonable, but not as far as the 9 miles we eventually did.

Looking westwards towards Bodmin Moor with Sharpitor catching the sun.

Looking eastwards with, more typically, a cloud obscured sun.

An old barn with the side 'extension' used at one time for the horse-powered winding gear. Strictly speaking, the extension is the 'horse engine house' (or gin gang, wheelhouse or roundhouse) and dates from the early 1800s. It was built originally to enclose a horse mill attached to a threshing barn. They are usually circular but sometimes are square or octagonal. For lovers of obscure facts, I can tell you that these structures were never thatched as the activities within shook the thatching straw off the roof.

Just a little of the mud we encountered all the way around. Hooray for waterproof boots and impervious overtrousers.

Here's something odd. Coming up to the crest of a hill from the Lynher, the tower of St Torney's church at North Hill. Not that the church is odd, it's just that from this angle it seems a lot closer than it actually was.

Just over the hill, the whole of North Hill comes into view and it's about a mile away, not that you have guessed from the previous image.

 

The core of Battens Farm dates from the Elizabethan era but has had many later additions. The official listing citation describes the original door thus: Entrance to left of centre with granite 4-centred roll moulded arch with carved balls in spandrels and ball and stepped stops. 'ANOD. 1581.C.T. VYNCENT' carved on lintel. Obviously a high status dwelling in its time and it is still very impressive.

After a rather tasty bowl of wild mushroom soup with truffle oil at the Racehorse Inn (sitting outside in the rain because we were caked with mud and looked thoroughly disreputable), we headed to the church and came across this notice. Although I'm not privy to the details, I do know that the closure is not entirely due to the very small congregation that attends services here. Whatever the specific reasons in this case, it's a fate that is facing many rural churches, not just in Cornwall but across the UK.

The slate tomb of the above mentioned Mr Vincent, with his wife and 15 children kneeling at the feet of Death. The tomb dates from 1606 and is a lasting testament to the wealth and status of Mr Vincent.



The slightly later monument to Henry Spoure is dated 1688. Henry was only 10 when he died and the monument shows his parents kneeling facing each other, with his brother and sister looking down from the arches. The colourful figures are painted slate and are quite unusual.



St Torney's a very big church and is reknowned for the two monuments I've mentioned above. It is over 600 years old but most of it dates from the 14th and 15th centuries, with heavy restoration taking place by the Victorians. Unfortunately nothing appears to be known about St Torney and it has  been  suggested that he (or  she)  may have been one  of  the  Irish or Welsh missionaries who  came  to Cornwall between the  5th and  7th  centuries. Early  versions of the  name  have  it as Terney or in Latin form  as Terninus. As a result  St. Torney  is usually  identified with St.  Erney, who also  has  a church and village named after him about 10 miles away.
 

A rather unusual piece of stone walling; we very rarely see vertical courses in these parts.

Almost our final encounter with mud. This field was not the easiest to cross as the mud was a few inches deep and slipping and sliding was the only way to negotiate our way through. At about 8 miles in, we really would have appreciated something easier. Notwithstanding this cavil, it was good to see the seedlings doing so well and, yes, we did our best not to tread on any of them.