On Saturday I drove down to Morvah on the Land’s End Peninsula in Cornwall to find Tregaminion holy well. There are over a hundred sacred wells and springs in Cornwall, and this one is said to have been dedicated to Brigit, who is kind of my patron saint.
    Penwith is so deserted. I love it. Lots of sky and bare land and granite. Small proper Cornish villages where all the stones have been there for a couple of hundred years and settled right in. I’m sure it’s packed with tourists in the summer and you can’t find half of the ruins in all the vegetation, but in winter it’s perfect. There were quite a few visitors in some of the carparks near various mines and castles and suchlike, but I pressed on and parked up on a verge in Morvah. There’s not a lot there. One farm, some houses, a church and The Schoolhouse, an art gallery and cafe which sells books, arty stuff and jewellery.
    I set off with my OS map and headed down the path to the right of the church which leads to the coastal path. It was only a five minute walk to the cliffs and I caught up with some others who were looking for a chapel. I think they thought there was more to Tregaminion than there is (the chapel is long gone). I couldn’t find the well, so I just carried on over the stream and along the coastal path to Portherras cove.
    Portherras is a proper Cornish cove, basically just a bay with a steep ravine leading down to it. At the end of the far headland is the Pendeen lighthouse. It didn’t do the ship that’s wrecked in the bay much good. There’s a sign warning not to bathe or walk barefoot, and lots of bits of old rusty ship piled up around it as proof that it’s still washing up. The sand is so clean and white and the water honestly looked Caribbean. Rather colder though. There were a couple of families on the beach and a couple hidden in the rocks, out of the wind and soaking up the sun. There’s a rock out to the lefthand side which I reckon could produce a lefthand wave on a big swell. The Three Stone Oar rocks sit in the middle of the bay, though there’s four as far as I can tell? They’re also called The Wra. Along the headland there’s a small slipway which had a couple of boats pulled up on it, and I think there are one or two houses, but basically it’s really remote. There’s a carpark up at the top of the ravine, I walked back through a farm and past it, then across a field for another quarter of a mile to get back to Morvah. The walks are well signposted, though the ancient sites are not…
    By this time I was hot, tired and thirsty so I thought, I’ll get something in the cafe and ask where this well is! Had a nice lentil soup and green tea, a splash of luxury as I had my own soup and tea ready for the making in the camper van! I found a book called Journey to the Stones, it’s kind of old but it has nine Penwith walks around all the best sites, absolutely ideal. The lady in there looked rather surprised that I wanted serving. I think she prefers the art gallery side of things, not heating soup for tourists. The art upstairs was cool, toys made out of, well, smaller toys.
    The proprietress showed me on an old leaflet where the well is and I set off again. I’d been really close! You go to the end of the path, turn left over the stream, over the stile, then walk a few metres, then on the left there are some stepping stones up to a low part of the wall. Hop over that and it’s on the right. At least I think that was it! I soaked up the peacefulness for a while. The well is just a strange little square hole in the ground. There’s quite an air of oldness, mystery and calm. The sound of busy bubbling water is always nice.
    I headed back to the van feeling pretty tired (I did surf for over two hours in the morning). But Madron was only four miles away so I followed the little lane into the interior. Passed a layby with some old Landys and some old guys with a huge hawk of some sort. Out for their weekend fun.
    I parked up next to the sign which reads Boswarthen Chapel. You can actually drive all the way down that lane to the stone entrance to the path, and there’s a little carpark there. Then I walked down a winding dirt path with trees meeting overhead, quite old gnarled ones with weird tracks running off between them (one of these will take you to the well proper!). I imagine it’s quite a place to be at Beltane or suchlike. The trees would be creepy in the dark, too, but in the sunlight they looked protective. I got round one corner and there was the cloutie tree part, with several trees all colourfully done up in ribbons, beads, wool, even plastic bags tied up there, each one representing a wish or an illness wanted rid of. But a lot of people have kind of missed the point — when the tie (the cloutie) falls or rots off, the illness recedes or the wish comes true, but if you use something plastic, that’s not going to happen for a while! Plus the trees were just beginning to bud, and I’m sure some of the ties will impede their growth. I tied on some of my hair and made a wish. There were some ribbons on there with dedications to the Goddess and suchlike.
    The well is supposed to be good for divination as well as healing — you drop a cross of straw in there to see how your love life will work out. The well is off the path a way, but I didn’t know that at the time. I will find it next time. I have learned the value of plenty of research and good maps when looking for these places!
    Further down the track is the little chapel. A low wall is all that remains of a one-roomed chapel, with the stream coming through the wall and falling into a pool (once used as a font) then channelled back outside. Again, the place felt so old.
     Then I turned around and there’s a low altar and on it someone had put a couple of apples and a jar of daffodils. Outside I saw my first snowdrops. An Eastern European family were looking around, I don’t think they knew anything about it beyond somewhere nice to bring the kid. I used to love wishing wells too. I can’t remember if any wishes came true, but I hope this one does.

PS - gutted that my camera finally gave up the ghost, as the light was perfect for some wonderful shots. Hopefully I can get a new old one this weekend…