Friends of the Fowey Estuary

We assembled at 10 am in Coulson Park, named after Nathaniel Coulson who was raised in Lostwithiel after being abandoned by his father, and having made a fortune in the United States, became a benefactor of Lostwithiel.

Cheery wave from the engine driver hauling over 1000 tonnes of China Clay to the Port of Fowey for shipment.

We follow the sheep track across the fairest of meadows. The official path runs along the top of the meadow below the mail line railway, which at this stage is gaining altitude as it heads towards St Austell. Some railway staff can just be seen as they return from inspecting repairs to the track that have been carried out during the last couple of months.

This sturdy repair to embankment repair to the railway embankment must have been what the railway staff must have been inspecting. It looks ready to be signed off.

Terry sees things the rest of us don't. Here he draws the my attention to a Meadow Brown butterfly. As a child during the second world war I remember running through meadows that shimmered with butterflies of every hue in such profusion that they brushed my skin as I ran. Now they are a rarity.

At Lostwithiel the main line is a few feet above sea level. Here, a mile down river, the same line is carried on this magnificent granite viaduct.

Terry takes a last look at the viaduct before we head off into ancient woodland, little changed since medieval times.

John Pegg explained that this tree with maple-like leaves is apparently unusual and relates to a time centuries ago when these trees had been cultivated here for their fruit. Although it looks insignificant, a year ago it sent the National Trust tree expert into raptures. John could not remember the name of the tree or what was special about it. Mulberry? Medlar? we suggested unhelpfully. The white patches are the effect of flash on the wet leaves - they were in fact fairly uniformly green. George Cussans has since told me the tree is a Wild Service Tree (Sorbus torminalis).

A glimpse of St Winnow. Five years ago I took a photo from about the same picnic spot but the trees have grown up so much since that it was quite difficult to find a gap in the foliage.

Looking back while crossing a grassy meadow...

... where Terry found a damsel fly

Nearing the top of the field. Then another 3/4 mile downhill for lunch at the Fisherman's Arms.

Setting off after a long lunch break was (and felt like) uphill going! Soon we would be on the level again with tired limbs loosening up.

On Golant Down Terry made us stop to look at this dragon fly high up on a gorse bush.

As we skirted past the recording studio at Saw Mills, we could hear the thrum of music. They have to time there sessions so as not to coincide with a China clay train rumbling past.

In Penventinue (Pennytinny) Lane we had a heavy shower. This rather put an end to photography so there are no nice photos of our arival at Fowey, just this wet view of the sewage works which processes material from as far away as Polruan and Readymoney. All this pumping sewage uphill for treatment must mean Cornwall's infrastructure is energy intensive: the exact reverse of hydro electricity.