John Coles Virtual Tour of Lelant

(Cornish-L Virtual Christmas Party 2003)

It was Wesley who (quite unintentionally) almost destroyed the power of the Anglican Church in Cornwall... and it was the power of Cornwall that (quite accidentally) almost destroyed Wesley at Lelant.

The accident happened when he was travelling in a coach across the wide expanse of the mudflats of The Saltings, in the upper reaches of the Hayle Estuary. Like all travellers moving along the north coast towards St Ives, he had taken the 'short cut' across the estuary at low tide, crossing from Hayle on the Eastern bank, to Lelant on the Western shore.

But like many before (and many since) he and his coachman had underestimated the power of the sea to roll the tide across this 'short cut' in a matter of moments. Precious moments in which the sand would turn to quicksand, before the sheer depth of water and rush of tidal currents swept the poor unfortunate away.

And it is not just the power of the sea which inundates at Lelant. This is a landscape, village and parish which is dominated by sand-dunes (known here in Cornwall by their old Cornish name 'Towans') which extend from Carbis Bay, through Lelant and Phillack, as far as Godrevy Point, at the Eastern extremity of St Ives Bay.

This fine sand has created massive sand storms in the past, and just as the Methodist, Wesley, was almost inundated by the sea, the Anglican vicar of St Uny Lelant only escaped the sand which completely buried his Vicarage by climbing out through a window!

So what do we see from the back of our Arthurian Charger?

Lelant is another of those tiny and compact landscapes of contrasts that so typify Cornwall. Look down with me from the craggy granite Iron Age fortress on the top of Trencrom Hill. To the south is Mount's Bay, below us a landscape of pocket-handerchief fields, and below us to the north stretches Lelant Parish, ending in the broad sweep of the curve of St Ives Bay, with St Ives itself to the left (western) end, and Phillack to the right.

In the very centre of this panorama is the V shaped (no, not that 'V.....') inlet of Hayle Estuary, with the church of St Uny Lelant on the furthermost left hand end, and the old explosives works on the opposite shore to the right.

Lelant itself is bypassed or sped-through by most tourists today, unless they enjoy one of the most beautiful train journeys in Cornwall, when they travel right along the edge of the the Hayle Estuary towards St Ives, the cottages of Lelant glimpsed on their left and The Saltings (often with flocks of exotic migrant birds, or the spectacular resident Herons fishing in the fast-running tide) on their right.

But the old village is lovely, giving a real feel of Old Cornwall as the road wends its way towards St Ives, with a traditional baker's shop on a side turning leading to unspoilt cottages, set among lanes rich with overhanging trees.

The church itself must have the most beautiful and peaceful setting in Cornwall, a little out of the village and overlooking the old harbour of Hayle across the estuary. One hundred and fifty years ago this was a busy view, bustling with shipping. Hayle was the world centre for the production of the great steam engines that powered mines worldwide, pumped water from the re-claimed low lands of Holland, and provided the water supply for great cities such as London and Birmingham.

Today, the railway viaduct is gently sinking in the mud, the estuary has silted up, the great foundries at Copperhouse and Foundry have been virtually obliterated, the estuary has silted to the point where the only boats are tiny fishing craft, and the only real reminders of the busy industrial past are the occasional black blocks of 'scoria' copper slag built into a wall.

Blackened spars of sunken work-boats now sink gently in the mud and silt alongside the estuary, and the braver surfers seek out the quiet sandy beach of 'Porth Kidney Sands' beyond the church - the only beach that I know in Cornwall which seems to be full of the treacherous spiny shells of Spider Crabs!

Inland, the parish meanders through some of the most picturesque small lanes I know, into a dream world of tiny cottages, rich greenery, and sub-tropical plants such as palms and acanthus, before winding imperceptibly up to the tiny car park hidden among the blackthorn and gorse on the side of Trencrom Hill.

And so it is here that we tether the Arthurian Charger to a bush, push our way through the overgrown scrub, and suddenly find ourselves on the windswept top of the hill where we started. But this time, as we look down on the landscape, we see the history of Phillack and Lelant rolling before our eyes.

Iron Age chieftains defending their people and their flocks on this great hill. Celtic Saints landing on the shores of Lelant and Hayle, bringing the Christian message from Ireland and Wales. Mine captains sinking shafts in the shifting sands of the great Towans between us and the sea as fortunes are spent on buying steam engines, and fortunes are lost as the prospect proves elusive, and the engines are sold at auction.

Smoke, flames, and acrid toxic fumes rise from the furnaces and copper smelters around the waterfront. Ships laden with coal and copper traverse the harbour. Then the railway brings tourism, and the Towans are covered with chalet homes, caravans and park homes, golf courses and dog walkers. Surfers discover the wonderful waves generated along the superb sands, and the declining and silted harbour seeks new life as property developers move in.

But - apart from the single track railway, and some new housing which has 'filled in the gaps' - Lelant has changed little over the centuries, and I suspect that if a relieved John Wesley were to kneel in prayers of thanksgiving for a safe crossing of The Saltings, the sight before his eyes would be much the same now, as it was some 250 years ago... although he might be surprised to hear Carols being sung in the original Cornish language (once again, after a break of some 400 years), in the Church of St Uny!

John Coles -  thankful for the modern road around the head of the estuary!

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