CADSONBURY WOODS and FROGWELL

There were six stiles to cross today as much of the walk took place on farmland; however the first stile led us into Cadsonbury Woods where we walked beside the river before emerging into a quiet lane and then back past the tiny car park.

After we had all safely crossed the narrow 15th century New Bridge, we turned left along a shady lane and walked towards the grade 2 listed Frogwell Mill, a former watermill. When it was built in the 18th century a family of millers named Cornish lived here; the wheel was fed by a leat from the . This wheel was positioned on the south side of this three-storey, slate-roofed, granite building .Waterwheels have been around for centuries so by the time the Domesday Book was compiled in 1086, there were 5,624 watermills in alone.

Later the Bunkum family took over the running of this grist mill when it is said that the wheel turned almost continually, day and night as the miller and his sons took turns to grind the barley and oats. But every week as regular as clockwork, it was turned off for 24 hours and two minutes. The reason for this was that the Bunkum family were devout Methodists and always observed the Sabbath which meant not working on a Sunday. So at one minute to midnight on the Saturday night the huge waterwheel would cease turning and the series of connecting cogs and wheels in the loft would grind to a halt; a deathly silence prevailed until the mill was re-started at one minute past midnight on the Sunday, then it was business as usual.

There is a footpath sign just above the old mill and after climbing the second stile of the day we headed the way it was pointing. We were now following in the footsteps of long-dead 19th century miners and later the local postman who would walk along this very same route. It is also possible that Francis and Elizabeth Bunkum and their children would don their Sunday-best clothes and walk this way across the fields each Sunday to reach the tiny 18th century Methodist Chapel in the hamlet of Frogwell which we would be passing later.

After overnight rain the meadow was still rather wet as we crossed over searching for stile number three, this was well hidden beneath some trees. When everyone was safely over we found ourselves in a second hay meadow containing yet more long and very wet grass and bedraggled looking wild-flowers. However, when I walked this way with my friend Cyndy one sunny day recently, we were delighted to see a healthy looking meadow clothed in pretty wildflowers all standing to attention and facing the sun, they were combined with many different varieties of grasses and stretching as far as the next hedge, such a rare sight these days. As we cut across the meadow to reach stile number four on that day, literally hundreds of grasshoppers and butterflies took off in all directions as we disturbed the plants they were resting on. Most of the butterflies were Meadow Browns, one of Britain’s commonest and below is a photo I took when one was perched on some Hawkweed which grows abundantly here as does Birds Foot Trefoil. The stile was up in the corner, right at the top of this meadow, surrounded by stinging nettles but we soon scaled it today and found we were in yet another field. This was just a small field where the grass had been cropped by some horses and when we walked across we came to a kissing gate; shortly after ducking beneath a low branch and passing through the gate we spotted another stile looming directly ahead (the fifth of the day) which led into a smallholding where a gate took us out into a T-junction with two narrow lanes.

We followed the lane to the right and soon arrived at the hamlet of Frogwell with its cluster of attractive stone cottages and barns and the Methodist chapel that the Bunkum family once attended. This little chapel has since been turned into a holiday let, but if you have £500-£700 to spare you can stay here for a week!

Turning left at the junction in the road, a footpath sign pointed into Frogwell Farm so we opened the gate and followed a damp, stony track uphill until arriving at yet another stile virtually hidden in the undergrowth. A machete would have come in useful here but we had to make do with our walking poles as we did battle with the nettles and brambles!

Ahead of us was a steep, grassy hill with a number of sheep grazing quietly, we headed for a Cornish hedge right at the top and continued onwards keeping this on our left as we walked towards Pencreber Farm. There

were far-reaching views of Moor and Cadsonbury Hillfort and we stopped to take it all in as we paused for a drink.

Finally, after passing through a wide gate we arrived at the old stagecoach route from Callington to . As I headed downhill I tried to imagine what it would have been like to travel by stagecoach in days gone by. I could picture the passengers being shaken about from side to side as the horses galloped down this hill on their regular route attempting to avoid any lurking highwaymen waiting to jump out and demand that passengers "Stand and deliver". Back then a lot of British roads would have been stony like this, with some little more than dusty tracks. At the bottom of the hill the horses would have crossed the River Lynher either over the bridge like we did, or by splashing through the former ford before ascending up the hill on the other side. On the brow of the steep hill one pair of horses was removed as they had done their job and only one pair was needed from here through St Ive and on to the market town of Liskeard. Today, the granite TAKE OFF stone erected in 1764 to mark the spot can still be seen. This is directly north of Cadson and it has even been awarded grade two listed status!