By Sandra and George Pritchard Part One There Are Many Roads

A Virtual “Walk Around The St Just Area”. By Sandra and George Pritchard Part one There are many roads that will take you westward to St Just and everyone requires a long, slow climb. From the sheltered rim of Mounts Bay the granite hills rise in soft folds, creating gentle valleys and soft river bottoms. Numerous pathways crisscross the land created by the many packhorse trains that brought the hard won mineral wealth of the hills down to the shores to trade. Trencrom, Castle an Dinas, Carn Galva & Carn Kenidjack act as sentinels to the hidden charms of the north coast, their surface dotted with the remains of the ancient ones. Once their slopes are conquered, the road drops down to a flat tableland where the air is always stirring. Trees only grow in the sheltered hollows and plants are sometimes burnt brown by salt laden winds. The seas are whipped up until the peaks are snow white with flecks of foam that then get carried on the air to land on the unsuspecting flora. The main road from Penzance through Morvah parish to St Just was not built until 1763. Before that each hamlet had a road leading up to the open moors to meet the old mule track which went across the high land. This track started at the Land's End [near the present day airport] and climbed the hill called Bound an Arth or High Lane which led on to CrowsanWra. At the summit it crossed the ancient track from Sennen to Penzance and on to St Ives. This is known as Vounder Go Glas or Little Green Lane. Parts of these track ways are still in evidence. With the construction of a road there was now a way for the mining industry to develop. However, when the Rev John Sweete, a native of Devon, undertook a tour of Cornwall on horseback in 1780 it was still relatively unspoilt.".. we reached an immense carn, the most craggy and extensive of any I had been near to. [Carn Kenidjack].From hence we had a fine view of St Just in Penwith, which arose with a few orchards and green fields ! in the midst of a barren uncultured scene. Today this approach is still only possible on horseback or foot as the main highway veers around the base of the hill but we can take a short walk to reach this compelling stretch of moorland and experience the stillness that has prevailed up here since time began. This carn is bare of natural landmarks save for a work of nature the weird pile of stones that crowns its summit and several works of man stone circles, tumuli and round houses. Most are now reduced to vague shapes and outlines save for one complete circle on the southern flank. Some 150 years ago here were the ruins of a sacred metropolis, with highways leading to it from the coast, each marked by standing stones at intervals along the way. Truly this must have once been a seat of great power; a place were those with knowledge of the unseen and unknown worked their magic. The people of St Just in the 1850's believed this was the place where the the dark horseman rides after midnight: perhaps the devil himself in disguise. Beyond the craggy summit stretches a plain all the way to the ancient impressive Chun Cromlech and the nearby fortified Chun Castle. This is Goon Gumpus, known simply to locals as "The Gump". A place where people got "pixie led", saw faerie folk and mysterious lights. Near a track across the Gump was a well with the purest of water. This was best avoided after dark as then, sitting on the hedge nearby would appear an old women in a red shawl who would silently watch. No matter how many times the pitcher was plunged into the sweet water when lifted it would be empty. This was the ghost of “Old Moll “she had terrified the populace when alive and continued to do so after death Imagine if you will it is again 1851 and it's a still, moonlit summer's night with scarce a breath of wind. The air begins to move, slowly at first, over the grassy mounds and the seed heads tinkle as they shake. The breeze rises and draws the warm air ever upward to the peaks and then, as it passes through the pinnacles and fissures of the rocks, there is a long low hum that reverberates and echoes in this primeval silence. "The Hooting Carn": feared and respected by generation after generation. The warm evening air now has a chill to it and as a cloud passes over the face of the moon, there is a faint hiss from behind you ; turning sharply to see what made it there follow pops and splutters and within seconds will o' the wisp lights dance across the ground, glowing yellow and blue, flicking on and off as they rise and fall in the dank air. Follow them at your peril as they lead to the deepest parts of the bog. A sip or two of Dutch courage [gin] was often taken if a journey across this moor was necessary after dark. A drop too much and who knows where you might find yourselves by morning. There is a simple explanation due to natural inversion currents and marsh gas in the ever wet boggy ground on the heights etc. etc. but a night on the carn alone never was an inviting prospect. The tales were embellished and repeated by those who wished their nocturnal activities in the same area to have few witnesses. The packhorse trains that left with their loads of ore for Penzance the smelter never returned empty handed. Another route over the hills was on the old pack road up through the Tregeseal Valley. Near the top is a farmhouse called Chyoone. In 1983 a Mrs Ethel Waters said she had heard maybe twenty times phantom hoof beats and the rumble of carriage wheels from inside the farmhouse. The approach of the unseen coach could be heard as it turned off the main road at the top of the hill and slowed down and halted at the farm. The theory is that the farmhouse was once a toll house on the turnpike. Research shows that the main road at the top of Tregeseal Hill was not cut until after 1888 and before that it was a green lane track on the OS map. Coaches were comparatively rare west of Penzance until 1851 and the horse buses went via Pendeen and Morvah. The toll house for this was at the Nancherrow Hill bridge on the main coastal road, so this apparition is a bit of a mystery. From Carn Kenidjack today the view is pleasantly green and the mining scars have healed leaving only picturesque remnants. It was much like this before the great expansion of the 1840's when the Rev Sweet saw the town of St Just and continued on his journey " Having descended the hill we came onto a very excellent road to Penzance on the southern coast, formed for the conveyance of tin with which these parts abounded. We arrived at the town about 12 and, understanding that there was no sort of accommodation to be met with nearer than Lands End about six miles further on, we were under the necessity of resting here to dine” He probably ate at one of the inns in St Just of which there were only two at that time, 'The Star' or the " King's Arms". Whilst waiting for his meal he took a short walk to see the ancient Plen anGwary. We will join him again tomorrow for part two. Part two In the last episode we left the Rev. Sweet as he booked into a St Just hotel for the night after which he decided to take a walk to see the ancient Plen anGwary. "[the amphitheatre]... enclosed in by the houses of the town....... still retains its open and circular form.the diameter 135 ft and the height of the bank from without 10ft...there was to be seen in one part .. the appearance of six stone steps, which is the number that the amphitheatre consisted of. In these cirques, plays taken from scripture history were acted by the Britons and in them also were performed all their athletary exercises, for which the Cornish men were of old so remarkable and even to this day, here they celebrate their rural games. The town for the most part consists of little houses pleasantly ranged round a small open area on the eastern side of which stands a very decent moor stone church" A report in West Briton of 28 October 1836 some 56 years later has a little less romantic view of the historical site: [and says so in what must be one of the longest sentences ever] " Few are the persons in St Just who have any knowledge of the supposed religious character of the amphitheatre; the association rather which they have in connection with it, are, that it has been used from time immemorial, a goal for hurling, a prize ring for wrestling, a place where fowls were staked on Shrove Tuesdays (as a target for thrown sticks, a barbaric sport virtually extinct by 1800), and such like idle and unprofitable exhibitions." Miners held drilling competitions on Feast Monday. Today you can still see the lumps of granite where 12 inch plus holes were drilled by hand with a time limit; one man held the iron drill, giving it a quarter turn at every blow and another wielded the hammer.

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