I was excited to be visiting Lands End. That is, until I overheard a uniformed Lands End staff member at Penzance bus station grizzling on her phone about the place. Had I made a mistake? But then she grumbled about the bus being late. Apparently she had seen the driver wander off to the staff room. In her view, he should have gone to the toilet before he got to work. Seven minutes late and no sign of him. Grumble, grumble. But…. when our bus turned up it wasn’t the one the girl had moaned about. The woman driver apologized for road works delaying her! And the girl continued her moan on the phone; bloody roadworks!
Upstairs on the bus gave a clear view of the moss covering rooves near the sea. Perhaps this variety needs sea spray?
Penzance to Lands End is beautiful, with little communities tucked into wooded areas, hedgerowed farmland, and unexpected henge stones in paddocks.
Cottage industries and holiday accommodation signs decorate every turn-off. Then dip down Sennan Cove:
War-time lookouts tuck into hilltops:
Lands End is a commercial nightmare. It even costs to stand beside the iconic signpost.
Sadly the historical post box isn’t operational, but for a fee you can still get that all-important stamp at the inevitable gift shop.
There is a terrific little museum dedicated to End-to-enders; those hardy souls who have completed the approx. 1400-mile John O’groats to Lands End run, usually fundraising for charity. The 1937 Royal Enfield 1140cc deluxe KX37 did it in 1990 in just under 24 hours.
Nowadays, thanks to motorways, the distance is reduced to 896 miles!
There have been many completions, involving an incredible array of transport, from roller-skates to a toilet, motorized bar stools to a garden shed complete with chicken. During 1988 a Phantom jet flew the straight line version in 46 minutes, 44 seconds, and a vision-impaired ex rally driver has driven it using an off-road route.
About 3000 folk attempt the challenge each year, but not many do it as Steve Gough did, taking six months due to being arrested several times. Naked except for his boots, the law didn’t approve of his ‘showing more than his enthusiasm!’
Moving on, there’s clifftop walks, views galore, and a crofters cottage reminding us how resilient the folk who used to live here had to be. One important task they had in summer was to gather furze (gorse), then dry and store it as ricks or faggots for winter burning. Furze prickles are painful when fresh, but harden into spears during drying. I’m guessing handling it wasn’t the most popular chore!
The information boards along the walks explain the effects of change, and conservation efforts.
Plant life hugs the ground, kept short by extraordinary winds.
Tucked into a wee dip, well away from the commercial onslaught, sits a silversmiths workshop, Greeb Cottage. Here the wonderful pirate Edward Williams and his cat Felix entertain the child in all of us, with magic tricks and mermaid tales. Felix allowed me a lucky charm he’d collected from the beach. The clear marble-like treasure is the result of a full moon beaming into a deep hole in the sea where an enormous spike-covered puffer balloon fish lurks. The moon beam reminds him of his youth, when life as a small fish was carefree, and marine creatures weren’t afraid of him. He releases bubbles as he cries. Mermaids are attracted by the bubbles, and, moved by his emotion, sing to him. Their high pitch pressurises the bubbles into charms, similar to how diamonds are formed. These charms wash up on the beach, from where Felix collects them in his mouth to bring up the cliffs to his treasure chest. Only special people are allowed to look in, much less have one! The lucky charm sits in my pocket still; you just never know…
Waiting for the return bus, a couple told me they’d seen a plaque at another tourist spot which commemorated locals emigrating to New Zealand in 1855 but they knew that was a mistake; way too early! It was hard to convince them that some of my ancestors emigrated in 1842…
On the ride back to Penzance, we went through a lovely historic village. Two women sitting behind me, upon seeing the ancient church and graves, commented how nice that the locals had tried to imitate old buildings. Why, even the rock walls looked old! I didn’t even try….
I didn’t hear what they thought of the henge ring:
The bus drivers continue to impress with their skills:
Lands End gives a feeling of having achieved something, but the visitor must not forget that the immediate site is privately owned. I’m proud to say I didn’t spend anything (despite their best efforts)!
Stories for you - Enjoy! 