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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Environment
Virginia Spiers

Cries of gulls echo over the steps towards the mystery of King Arthur

Tintagel bridge to castle
Sea-green waters lap into the caves of the Tintagel peninsula. Photograph: Westend61 GmbH/Alamy

Seawards from bungalows, villas and the Camelot hotel, the northerly outlook is dominated by cliffs and a succession of headlands towards Boscastle and far off Cambeak. Out on exposed Barras Nose, pennyworts grow in slatey crevices. No wind stirs the yellow gorse and faded heather, and the cries of gulls sound loud above the unusually quiet swish of the sea.

Below this vantage point, in Tintagel Haven, green water sucks into caves and laps the sheer rocks of the peninsula (known as Tintagel island) bearing the ruins. On the flat summit of that ancient site, Mr Dangar’s Soay sheep appear as distant silhouettes as they graze and help maintain the sward around the historic foundations.

For now, the castle is closed to visitors, and no one crosses the bridge from the mainland to climb the steep paths and ponder the myth of King Arthur.

Archaeological excavations there and in the nearby churchyard of St Materiana date this fortification back to the 5th and 6th centuries. Maybe it was linked to an earlier veneration of the constellation that points to the pole star, the Great Bear or Arth Fawr (Arthur), as it was known in the old British language.

The coastal path back to Bossiney Haven is bounded by walls of rough slate laid herringbone fashion, all encrusted with bristly lichens. Come summer, the wind-blasted cushions of dormant thrift and bladder campion will burst into flower, as will foxgloves seeded out beside the muddy path.

Sunbeams glide across the hinterland of pastures and shut holiday chalets. Dunnocks jangle their song from bramble coverts, and blackbirds prospect mole hills for worms. Ahead, the low sun picks out the curves of mediaeval lynchets. Beneath the blue sky, the sea shimmers turquoise, azure and cobalt.

High above Gullastem and protected by vertical cliffs is Willapark, an iron age cliff castle, a refuge for the local tribe 2,000 years ago. A defensive bank has been renovated and scrub cut back. At the northern end a flock of little black sheep rest in this sun-gilded space.

Twitter: @gdncountrydiary

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