GUNNISLAKE to CALSTOCK

GUNNISLAKE to CALSTOCK As we stood waiting at Calstock for a bus to carry us up to Gunnislake, the usual ducks were milling around near the bus shelter; by far the greatest in number are Muscovy ducks. These are wild birds but they can be farmed, when they are said to produce ‘fabulous eggs and the best duck meat ever’. The name suggests they come from Moscow which couldn’t be further from the truth….they originate from South America! It is thought that the Muscovy got its name from the Muscovite Company which traded the ducks during the 1500s but they didn’t arrive in the UK until the 20th Century. They are the only domesticated duck that is not derived from the Mallard. Muscovy ducks are hardy in all weathers, from scorching sunshine to freezing ice and snow and here in the village their numbers appear to be increasing year on year. These ugly ducks are not like other ducks, firstly they do not fly much, preferring instead to waddle or lounge about as we know. Neither do they swim as much as other breeds because their oil glands are under developed and finally, they don't quack like other ducks but instead product a low hiss. On the plus side, they hunt flies and mosquitoes and eat slugs, bugs and even grass and grain…. whatever’s going really. When the bus arrived the driver looked a bit bemused when all 22 of us piled on taking up most of the seats, only to alight again at the crossroads near the local school where today’s walk began and where one more walker joined us. Maggie was again at the helm leading us along the lane in the direction of Drakewalls Mine where everyone headed down through the small muddy woodland. The gale force winds of late were often accompanied by hail, sleet and heavy rain, so this was not at all un-expected and everyone had dressed for the weather as usual. We were soon passing the Tamar Valley centre home to the AONB and the Parish Archives plus one or two other offices, but as the archives have outgrown their tiny room on the first floor they will soon be moving into the old mortuary chapel at the entrance to Albaston Cemetery which we passed shortly after. Once the building has been sympathetically restored, it will enable the Parish Archives to spread out a bit and have frequently changing displays of their many hundreds of photographs and documents. After their recent successful Lottery bid an Open Day was held here; the space inside the dis-used chapel is deceiving as Ray and I discovered. Whilst looking around at the displays, reading the information and talking to the volunteers, one of the things we learnt that the mason who built this chapel was a local man named James Bond! This James Bond lived in a cottage in St Ann’s Chapel opposite the former post office. Shortly after completion of the chapel, James took himself off to work as a stonemason in the gold mining area in South Africa where he made enough money in the nine years he was there to build himself a house in Norris Green on his return to Cornwall. Once through Albaston, Maggie led us down a steep grassy field towards a stile in the corner where a path would soon carry us through a moist, shady environment beside a stream. To one side is a Cornish hedge where Navel-worts, Ferns and Celandines grow amongst the wet mosses. As we waited for our turn to climb over the stile a new lady, down here on holiday was asking about the Daffodils growing, seemingly at random at the edge of the field and we explained to her about the former market gardening here in the Tamar Valley; she asked many questions and as a couple of us explained it was like seeing it through new eyes. The stream we soon passed can be flowing gently in the summer or rushing along in a noisy torrent spreading right across our path as it was today, it was often difficult to see where one ended and another began. Everyone tiptoed downhill amongst the wet, rocks interspersed with tiny Opposite-leaved Golden Saxifrage plants where we passed another group of retired walkers coming in the opposite direction. Several of us warned them what to expect higher up, the way we had come, especially the wet, muddy stile we had left in our wake. Standing on firmer ground after leaving the footpath, it was time for a short break before heading up through Cotehele Woods. Here on the Cotehele estate the path was lined with hundreds of Wood Anemones, their dainty white flowers were not fully open as yet, but all were facing downhill towards the sun and away from us. Coming through amongst them, some of us recognised early Bluebells, Wild Garlics and Red Campions, none of which were in flower as yet. The weather was kind to us today and by the time we arrived at Lower Kelly we were all peeling off gloves, hats and extra layers of clothing. Even a Red Admiral butterfly was out and about and sunning itself amongst the Navel-Worts. .

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