Crowhill Valley Woods

…Sshhhh, don’t tell….

Bluebells

Last weekend I went to visit a hidden little corner of Cornwall, and I’ve been trying to decide whether to tell. It was a secret and magical place, and the only human  tiptoeing through was me…

But…I visited because I am writing a book about the wildlife and nature of the River Fal, and the Fal flows right through it, so at some point I hope to be sharing the wonder of…Crowhill Valley Woods. This Woodland Trust-owned woodland, part of a Site of Special Scientific Interest near Grampound and an important area of Alder sump woodland, is not that easy to find. Read this entry from the Woodland Trust’s ‘Visit Woods’ site to find out how some visitors spent a long time tracking it down! I was fortunate enough to have spoken to someone from the Trust in advance, so I knew where I was going. And here’s what I found…

Beautiful bluebells and Greater Stitchwort, companions beneath the trees (photo credit: Amanda Scott)
Beautiful bluebells and Greater Stitchwort, companions beneath the trees (photo credit: Amanda Scott)
A Green-veined White butterfly visiting Cuckoo-flower, one of its caterpillar food plants (photo credit: Amanda Scott)
A Green-veined White butterfly visiting Cuckoo-flower, one of its caterpillar food plants (photo credit: Amanda Scott)
A delicate flower of Wood Speedwell (photo credit: Amanda Scott)
A delicate flower of Wood Speedwell (photo credit: Amanda Scott)

The flora was wonderful, and there will be more to come. This is somewhere to visit time and time again. Hemlock Water Dropwort was leafy and green, its umbels of flowers waiting to unfurl. Tiny flowers of Wood Speedwell poked through the undergrowth. Lesser Celandine and the improbably-named Opposite-leaved Golden-saxifrage contributed notes of yellow to the Bluebell-blue, Stitchwort-white and leaf-green hues of the woodland.

Peacock butterfly (photo credit: Amanda Scott)
Peacock butterfly (photo credit: Amanda Scott)

There was also birdsong to die for, and I realised (once again) that it was high time I learned bird calls. In a wood, birds are, in contrast to good Victorian children, heard but seldom seen. There are many flurries through the leaves, rustles and darting flights, but the birds don’t hang around to be looked at. Nonetheless, I saw a Blackcap, a Songthrush, Wood Pigeon and several Blackbirds (plus a few small indeterminate brown ones). Bees and other insects were also buzzing – the highlight was a Beautiful Demoiselle damselfly, an immature male, presumably newly emerged, but there were also Green-veined White and Peacock butterflies a-plenty.

So, I suppose I should be recommending you visit this special place yourselves. And I do, of course. Just remember, sshhh, keep it secret!!!

Lesser Celandine

Goss Moor and the source of the Fal

Living near to Falmouth, I am used to thinking of the River Fal in terms of its end as it joins the sea amid the activity and hustle of the world’s third largest natural harbour. Large ships anchored out in the bay, people teeming round the docks, either hard at work or visiting to enjoy the spectacle, pleasure boats, industry, and so on, are what come to mind.

River Fal Panoramic
River Fal Panoramic (Photo credit: Ross Tucknott)

But that’s not where I am now. I’m up on Goss Moor, several miles to the north-east, standing by the side of one of the many springs that make up the headwaters of the Fal. From half way across the Moor, the Fal is already a recognisable busy stream, both on the ground and from a map, but here, further to the east, the river has not yet formed, and the many small springs and trickles are making their way westward before joining together to wend their way south to Falmouth Harbour.

Goss Moor circular 'multi-use' trail
Goss Moor circular ‘multi-use’ trail. The archway allowed local people access to the Moor for grazing beneath a now disused railway line.

My day at Goss didn’t begin with the Fal. I parked in the car park at the southwest corner, close to St Dennis, and set off on the Goss Moor Multi-Use Trail eastward. Goss Moor, Cornwall’s largest lowland wetland, is one of three National Nature Reserves in Cornwall – the others are Golitha Falls and The Lizard – and Goss and Golitha tend to suffer by comparison with the more renowned Lizard reserve. I haven’t yet been to Golitha, but I can vouch for Goss Moor definitely being worth a visit. The multi-use trail is a good seven miles long, a full route round the moor, mainly off-road, partly on-road, making easy access for walking, cycling and horse riding, and a good running circuit as well, given the number of runners I passed (or who passed me!). It’s also relatively easy to leave the trail and make your way across the moor to investigate further off the beaten track.

Pylons across the Moor
Pylons across the Moor

As I set off on my walk, I was aware of many sounds – birdsong, the distant hum of traffic, cows mooing and sheep bleating, the St Dennis church bells (this was a Sunday morning), water somewhere trickling. But beneath it all, the continuous motif linking all these other notes, was the crackling hum of the pylons that are strung out across the moor, originating from the Indian Queens Power Plant to the west. Unexpectedly, this didn’t distract me from appreciating my walk, instead adding an edge to the bleak beauty of the place. People sometimes talk of pylons as ‘marching’ across the landscape, but these seemed rather to be rooted firmly in the heathlands at their feet, part of and not an intrusion on the scene. And why shouldn’t they be? – these particular ones have been here since the 1960s, and pylons have been a feature of the Moor since the early twentieth century. It is indeed amazing that a landscape that has been so heavily influenced by humans through the centuries – tin and clay mining, gravel extraction in the 1970s, the building of the modern A30, the railway and the power plant – should feel at the same time so peaceful and isolated.

Metal feet growing in the landscape on Goss Moor

I left the pylons behind, anyway, as I detoured from the main trail to take a path bending to the north, to find the Fal. This is perhaps not the most productive time to visit Goss Moor: it is known, amongst other things, for its Marsh Fritillary butterflies, the delicate flowers of Yellow Centaury, Lesser Butterfly and Heath Spotted orchids, all of which won’t appear until later in the year. I might have been able to spot the lovely little fern, Pillwort, or the rare Marsh Clubmoss, but I didn’t.

The River Fal as it begins its journey south from Goss Moor.
The River Fal as it begins its journey south from Goss Moor.

I did however find the Fal. Walking eastward, in the opposite direction to its flow, one of the most striking features is the reddish colour of the sediments in parts of the stream bed. As far as I can work out this is due to iron-rich minerals resulting from the geological and industrial processes in the area (any readers who have better information – please leave a comment as I would love to know more!). Goss Moor is a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI), and the site description tells us that its soils have been heavily disturbed and influenced by mining, with these and the more recent gravel extraction creating open water pools.

Trees reflected in the red waters on Goss Moor
Trees reflected in the red waters on Goss Moor

I also noticed something I’ve seen before, but never in such abundance. The oily-looking film on the surface of still water pools isn’t in fact a small-scale oil slick, but a film created by Leptothrix discophora, a bacterium that uses iron for maintaining its life functions, much as we use oxygen, so it obviously thrives in the iron-rich environments here. You can tell it is not oil by poking it with a stick: oil will swirl around and not break up, whereas the Leptothrix discophora film breaks up into little platelets, a bit like cracking a thin film of ice. You can see this in the photograph below.

Leptothrix discophora on the water surface at Goss Moor
Leptothrix discophora film on the water surface at Goss Moor

After finding the Fal and pottering along the boardwalk on the ‘Marsh Fritillary Trail’, I rejoined the main track and did the full circuit of the Moor. I wasn’t quite so enamoured with the northern section for a ‘nature’ walk: I suspect that’s more because I love investigating the heathlands and smaller tracks, and because the  proximity to the main A30 trunk road in the northwestern parts of the trail was a little off-putting – there is a great view from the bridge over the A30, though.

Bench on the Goss Moor Trail - an interesting and sustainable use of a felled tree
Bench on the Goss Moor Trail – an interesting and sustainable use of a felled tree

There was plenty of interest, however. The leg running along the northern edge uses the old A30 – famous for its traffic jams in the past, but now a peaceful track with an interesting bench or two! Watch out as well for the milestone, dating from 1769 and resited to south of the bridge over the  new A30. In its original location it told you that you had 10 miles further to go before Bodmin – it would have seemed much further then than in these fast-speed days.

Catkins all in a row at Goss Moor
Catkins all in a row at Goss Moor

As I came closer to my starting point, through a more wooded area, there were many signs of Spring to cheer the scene on a cold and grey day – snowdrops, primroses, catkins hanging over the path, the fresh green leaves of soon-to-be foxgloves – all promises of a richer and more colourful sight to come.

I think, though, my favourite part of the walk was in the eastern section, alongside small pools and springs that are destined to become part of the River Fal but which, for now, have no names or separate identity. I wondered what vagaries of geology and time determined that these would become the Fal, flowing to the south coast and the busy shipping lanes of the open sea.

It’s good sometimes to remember that things have a beginning, and that while returning there cannot turn back time or alter a previous course, it can nonetheless refresh the mind with future possibilities, future directions.

I didn't follow this path over the red water when I was on Goss Moor - I wonder where it might have taken me...
I didn’t follow this path over the red water when I was on Goss Moor – I wonder where it might have taken me…