The Bodmin moors, lair of
the Beast of Bodmin. The story of
a mythical wildcat that stalks the moors is of course yet another layer of myth
and legend for an area that seems to have more than its fair share of stories.
It's hardly surprising I suppose considering the number of ancient sites spread
across the moors. Stone circles, burial chambers, ancient cairns, standing
stones, abandoned villages and homesteads, all hidden in every fold of the
landscape.
The weather too plays its
part. Walk these moors in the dark as a heavy mist settles around you and it is
easy to understand the folklore that surrounds the area.
Take this morning for
example. As I make my way across the top of Stowe's Hill, strange rock
formations come and go as the mist swirls around its rocky Tors. The normal sounds of cows, horses and sheep
floating up from the lower ground sound muffled and surreal, but the most
poignant sound for me, and one I will now always associate with the area is
that of the Raven.
While waiting for the mist
to clear I listen to two calling to each other less than twenty metres
away. I cannot see them, but can't
resist calling across to them "Oy quiet". They do indeed go quiet, but only a few seconds later I hear the
rustle of feathers as they fly above me to investigate the mad man talking to
them in the mist.
These moors do that to you,
especially when you are on your own.
"Going Bodmin or Gone Bodmin" is a phrase used to describe
anyone who is just a little odd - not quite barmy mind - just a bit
different. It seems a fair label for a
photographer sitting on a hilltop at sunrise talking to Ravens don't you think.
 |
| The Cheesewring Stones as the Mist Sinks Back into the Valley. The Cheesewring gets its name as it looks similar to the Cheeses used during the pressing in cider production. |
 |
| One of several Rocky Tors on Stowe's Hill |
 |
| Caradon Hill with its TV masts from Stowe's Hill |
 |
| Stone Pinnacle and the Cheesewring. |
 |
| Weathered top of one of the summit tors. - the mist all but gone now on the west side of the hill. |
 |
| The light around sunrise truly is transient and within half an hour the sun was far too harsh. A further half-hour all this mist had lifted into high cloud. |
Text/images copyright David Forster
www.bluestoneimages.com
