The transcript of a walk from St Agnes village to St Agnes Beacon. Rambling thoughts and observations recorded using an Olympus voice recorder and a Nokia E885.
The 2nd of August. Two-thirty in the afternoon.
I’m going to walk from the car park to the Beacon and down the other side.
A dog is barking as I walk behind the library. There’s a row of forlorn looking garages [takes photograph] and a ‘No Dumping’ sign [takes photograph]. 20th century.
Walking up Polbreen Lane. They say these walls are remnants from the old mines.
A drain. Montbretia. Ivy.
Past a bungalow named Lacey Green and a red Renault car.
A woman says: “it’s too early for blackberries yet.” Another woman says “they’ll be out at the end of September.”
In the bungalow estate, I have a stone in my shoe. An American suburb but it’s not going to rain. Tupperware. Nixon. Watergate.
I can’t read what that sign says.
Very clean rhododendron bushes.
A division in the path. One path goes to Greenacre Farm and another goes to Cannonball Farm. I asked a woman wearing too much make-up “which way should I go?” and she said “Go that way [pointing]- I think you’ll enjoy that way, it’s nicer”.
There’s a strong smell of conifers. I’ve just walked past a donkey with a black hood. Here are the conifers and behind them a breeze block wall with blue graffiti that says nothing.
Now I’m in ‘rural’. The track is rougher and I’m climbing upwards past boxes that read ‘horses’. The woman said this walk was ‘nice’ – not yet.
A horse has just gone past with a rider on it’s back. Past Cannonball Farm and into my sight comes a cow lying down, then two cows, then three cows. Surrounded by high hedgerows containing blackberries in waiting.
That was Beacon Farm. Recycling empty Swiss muesli box [takes photograph] and windows holding potted plants, sellotape, leaves pushing against the windowpane. I wanted to look through the glass, but there might have been someone inside – it was too dark to tell.
Views of Carn Brea, Mount Hawke, a caravan park, windmills, St Agnes, more windmills, Beacon Farm, a hedge and the Beacon.
[recorded sound breaks up] windy….cold…..see Wheal Coates……..scattered mine waste……it’s cold….the wind
Crosspaths. One up to the top. Second is where I came. Third is … prickly bushes heading down to Wheal Coates. The fourth circumvents the Beacon through purple gorse fringed by golden grass. Horses coming towards me through the purple and gold. “Hello” and “walk on”.
At the top. A trig point. Sit down.