St Michael's Mount

The reason for staying in Falmouth has way less to do with Falmouth and more to do with Mount St. Michael, or St Michael's Mount. I was organized enough to have booked my ticket on the boat for this, and I wanted to be close enough to not have to stress too much getting there.

St Michael's Mount is one of the top tourist attractions in Cornwall.  It is a tidal island which can be walked to over a causeway when the tide is low. The known occupation goes back to the 800's CE with a Benedictine Abbey. Edward the Confessor gave the island so that it would be an counterpart Mont-Saint-Michel in Normandy, France, which is also a tidal island. That relationship was severed during the wars with France and then with Henry VIII's dissolution it ceased to be a Priory. During the Civil War civil war it was converted into a fortress for the King. And since 1650 the castle and chapel have been the home of the St Aubyn family. And it is now home and a very busy tourist attraction and historic treasure.

I loved this place. It is soaked with history - and I love some good history. I loved it's ruggedness. The paths, especially around the gardens and up to the castle, were steep, and did not always have hand rails. I was grateful I had grown up tramping up and down steep hills as I walked past people clinging to the rails, in some cases crying, terrified! To be honest i also felt a little smug and superior. There was a little scoffing and scorning going on in my head and very little compassion shown. And then I was reminded of when I organized a group of Riverslea leaders to go up St Arnaud in the Nelson Lakes. As we clumped our way up to the peak, crampons in

place and ice axes in hand, terrified as we looked down the slope, one on our group worked with the instructors and wandered about with no fear. And there really was nothing to be afraid of. You just needed to dig your knees in and lean on your ice axe you would stop. But still, we thought he was a dick. The next year having done this once we were mostly fine and could walk up and down with little stress. While the new people walked the way of terror. The difference between him and me what that he offered help. I just walked up and down the road and scoffed. Who was the dick now? But I was grateful  for those climbing experiences, and for my Sketchers with
their octopus like grip. I kept a look out for the legend of Jack who freed the people of Marazon from the giant who stole their livestock - trapping him in a well (I think) and somehow the Giants heart is now part of the road.

I took my time around the whole complex. Partly it was interesting, and partly I was waiting for the causeway to appear and be dry enough for me to walk on it. Once I had explored and read a lot with the little guide book I had purchased showing me the way, I had a leisurely lunch (out of the rain) and waited. (yes fruit scones and coffee.) I had caught the boat over, but I wanted to walk back. At last, the rain stopped, and people started to walk the causeway. It was still wet, so I took my shoes and socks off and set off. It was worth the wait.

 

Once back in Marazon I paid for my parking - I didn't note what time I had arrived so had to guess how long to pay form with signs around warning me of fines if I did not pay enough - please God not another ticket - and then set off for my next little adventure. 

You can find more photos on my Facebook post here