Invasive Species & Changing Scenery
In our post about Winston Churchill’s family home at Chartwell a couple of weeks ago, we mentioned that we felt a bit miffed at missing out on the good weather which was being enjoyed by the rest of England while those of us on the east coast were still in coats and jeans. Well, it only got marginally better.
The recent so-called heatwave is mostly over, and somehow we managed to carry on with what seems to be a newly acquired knack of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We left our home in Kent on the very day that the high temperatures finally hit these parts, watching the blue skies diminish in the rear view mirror and the dashboard temperature count downwards, finally arriving in Cornwall to a Saturday evening which said “don’t put your jeans away just yet”.
True, over the course of the next eight days we did have some lovely summer sunshine, but only after a few days where the stubborn sea fog took until afternoon to clear and at no time throughout our stay did it get close to the near 30 degree temperatures which were widespread across the rest of the country. I think the warmest day hit 23 – very pleasant of course but not what you would call a heatwave.
Despite much forecasting of high humidity, torrential rain and spectacular storms on the drive home, the entire 320 mile journey is under featureless grey skies where neither the sun nor a raindrop makes an appearance. Until that is, we arrive in our home village and, just in time for unloading everything from the car, the steady oh-so-English rain starts to fall. Steady and persistent, but not the tempests forecast by the Met Office.
Let’s talk about Cornwall, where something was going on, something blindingly yellow. Rapeseed. We can only surmise that after years of rape being a popular crop in England, the plant has somehow asserted itself in a way that wheat and barley never did, by seeds being carried on the wind and dropping into every nook and cranny it can find. It is simply everywhere.
Roadsides, hedgerows, embankments, field corners and even private gardens are suddenly swamped with these leggy bright yellow blooms. Cornwall from the air must look like a yellow fishing net. Thankfully the beautiful coastal path and the spectacular clifftops seem to have been spared the invasion – maybe it’s just too windy up there – but everywhere else has been summarily yellowed. We have no idea how harmful this might be, but surely our native wild flowers must be being choked to death by this voracious invader?
The thought briefly occurs that, if rapeseed still fetches a half decent price, someone could make a killing by driving round the county and harvesting all of what is now nobody’s crop and is in plentiful free supply. A bit like the water companies’ business model.
Those clifftops, and the coastal path, spared the yellow blanket, are especially resplendent this summer, beautifully colourful with an amazing variety of bloom. Deep purple foxgloves seem particularly populous.
Away from the coast path there is a lot which is changing down in Cornwall. We’ve long since got used to the building boom as cottages and homes seem to be swelling every town and village in the county, but it is starting to feel – and look – a little different. Is it my imagination, or is the positioning of new builds becoming more thoughtless and less sensitive? Sweeping green fields are sprouting grey-and-white dwellings, classic views have new blots on old landscapes, spaces between grand houses are being filled with smaller boxes. The nicest thing we can think of to say is that there is development in some surprising locations.
The spine of Cornwall is currently a straight line scar where the A30 is being upgraded to dual carriageway: soon the more remote parts of the furthest west will be an hour closer to the rest of England. It’s progress, we suppose, and it’s inevitable, we also suppose, but as far as we can see the landscape is definitely changing at a new accelerated pace.
My 44-year love affair with Cornwall is definitely not over, I don’t believe it ever will be, but….well, we are noticing different things these days.
Mercifully the coastal path and the dramatic Atlantic coastline show little sign of change influenced by mankind, in fact at this time of year there is an added dimension with the colour splashes of the abundant flora. Our hikes – one from Constantine to Padstow around Trevose Head, one around Tintagel Castle, and a circular route from Trebarwith Strand to Tintagel and back – are as wonderful as hikes along the North Cornwall section of the path always are.
North of Trebarwith we pass through the remnants of the old slate mines where curved recesses in the cliffs and round holes in the fields are clues to the access points for quarrying. The 19th century was the Cornish slate industry’s heyday, the last mine closed here in 1937. These were places where slate miners descended 100ft cliffs on a rope ladder, clinging on for dear life as they chiselled away with hand tools to get at the valuable slate. More than a few paid with their lives.
The Atlantic never rages over the eight days and is uncharacteristically benign even on the flow tides. Families enjoy beach picnics, long distance walkers trudge by with temporary homes on their backs, skylarks sing their way upwards and stonechats flash yellow plumage in the afternoon sun. Dogs race along the sand, little girls squeal as they run from the waves, seagulls mooch menacingly as they await their moment to steal lunch from an unsuspecting picnicker.
(Note: did you know that a single skylark song can incorporate up to 450 syllables? No nor did we!).
But centre stage goes currently to those meadow-like blooms which cover the clifftops in a whole host of colours. We remember some names from childhood – sea thrift, foxgloves, campion, speedwell and the one we used to call bacon-and-egg plant – but there are absolutely dozens which we have either forgotten or never knew. It’s easy to lose count of the many different blooms.
For many years I wanted to walk the entire 500-mile South West coastal path from Minehead to Poole, but that desire has gone now and we’ll content ourselves with these wonderful stretches completed bit by bit. There is always something different to see on this fabulous piece of Atlantic coastline.
It’s always so good to come back, even if the rapeseed is ganging up around the villages with its outspread yellow arms.
27 Comments
Monkey's Tale
Beautiful coastal views and wildflowers. In Canada we call it canola rather than rapeseed, I think it’s a genetically modified version of the same plant. Anyway, I assume it’s profitable because a lot of our farmers grow it. Maggie
Phil & Michaela
Yes, the thing is though – it’s now not a popular crop, you don’t see it in the fields, but what appear to be self-sets are sprouting everywhere
Monkey's Tale
Oh I didn’t realize it was so invasive, but in Canada’s west it is widely grown. I haven’t heard of it spreading like that.
Suzanne@PictureRetirement
Such beautiful photographs and prose. Not a bad place to come home to.
Phil & Michaela
Thank you Suzanne, Cornwall will always have a place in my heart.
Alison
England in a heatwave is pretty unbearable, and the fog makes some wonderful photographic scenes. Glad you enjoyed some warm weather anyway. I love a good book featuring Cornwall, especially historic ones.
Phil & Michaela
It’s one of those places which inspires the imagination. I feel a novel coming on…. Shame I don’t have time to write it!
Helen Devries
For your knack of being where the sun is not, the Met Office has need of you. Forget modelling, just ask where you are going and mark ‘rain’ on the map. More reliable than seaweed.
Wonderful photographs….so glad that Cornwalll has not been completely spoiled.
Phil & Michaela
Yeah I think it’s time to go travelling again
HeyJude
You always show me bits of the coast that I am unfamiliar with. And yes, I would agree that Cornwall is changing, it’s a lot lot busier than when we planned to move here 10 years ago. Would I have moved had I known? Possibly not. And the yellow stuff I think is wild mustard, not rapeseed. And yes it is in my garden.
Phil & Michaela
Wild mustard? Really!!? Wow. The reason I assume it’s rapeseed is, apart from the fact it looks identical to my eyes, is that it’s growing all around the field edges of fields in which I’ve known rape to be harvested over the last few years. Whatever, I haven’t seen it so dominant before, whatever it is. As for the development, this is the first time in all these years that I’ve started to feel that “my” Cornwall is disappearing. There’s a definable acceleration to the change.
HeyJude
I’ve not seen any rapeseed fields down this area which is why I think it’s wild mustard. The leaves are hairier though the flowers are similar. Maybe it’s a combination of plants. I haven’t seen so much yellow before. As for changes, nothing much has changed around west penwith, except for the number of visitors.
Phil & Michaela
Ah, well these fields around Padstow, St Issey and Trevose Head have definitely had plenty of rape harvests over the last few summers
Sue
Thoroughly enjoyed this post, prose and photographs…had me thinking of childhood visits to the county,,wher quite a lo has undoubtedly changed, Also, Irecall the tin mines….hadn’t realised there were slate mines too. Pleased to have come across yourr blog, thankstoToonSarah
Phil & Michaela
Thank you Sue, for your lovely comments. We will be travelling again very soon if you would like to “follow”…
Lookoom
Flowers are everywhere at this time of year, and all the debate about biodiversity makes us appreciate their different colours and shapes better.
Mike and Kellye Hefner
Incredible photos! I’ve see our Atlantic coastline, but the water isn’t as pretty as it is in Cornwall. What a gorgeous area. I agree that “progress” is hard to take sometimes, because we still need to have unspoiled beauty. I absolutely love the ghostly lighthouse.
Phil & Michaela
Thanks Kellye. I’ve loved Cornwall for a very long time. But there’s a perceptible change right now.
Toonsarah
To be honest I’d rather have your comfortable 23 degrees than London’s stifling 30! It’s cooled off a bit lately but today is hot and sticky again ☀☀ Your wildflowers are glorious and I was happy to see Trebarwith – I have lovely memories of a family holiday there when I must have been about ten or eleven I reckon.
Phil & Michaela
Well. I know I’ve (half) moaned about it recently, but the joy of living on the coast is that it never gets stifling. Today, for instance, was just glorious – proper hot but the sea air (particularly on a north facing coast) means it’s never humid. These days we are often shocked when we go “home” to the Midlands and it feels so cloying. There’s a lot to be said for living by the sea! Glad to have triggered some happy memories Sarah 😀
wetanddustyroads
It was 24° Celsius here today … and it’s supposed to be winter. Weather wise, this part of SA is probably the best place during winter! Your views of the ocean (and pretty wildflowers) on your hikes are beautiful – it’s something you’ll probably never tire of … even if Cornwall is changing a bit.
Phil & Michaela
Cornwall is in my heart forever, Corna!
grandmisadventures
It’s sad when a beautiful plant becomes too invasive and takes over the other plants around it, especially since you seem to have so many beautiful wildflowers there. How interesting that there was a slate mine right next to the ocean- a strenuous job with beautiful views. I always love following along on these beautiful coastal walks with you through Cornwall 🙂
Christie
The temperatures have been up and down in Canada as well, but nothing can beat the beauty of those coastlines regardless the state of the weather, what a fantastic scenery. I do not recall how I fell in love with Cornwall (reading a book a long time ago), but yet I have to visit this region, and probably before it changes too much😀
Phil & Michaela
It’s well worth it, Christie, the North Cornwall coast in particular is breathtaking
WanderingCanadians
The fog looks pretty neat and a bit spooky. I’m glad it cleared though as the coastal views are stunning.
Latitude Adjustment: A Tale of Two Wanderers
Beautiful.