dgc and wheal fanny - tamar valley ·...
TRANSCRIPT
DGC and WHEAL FANNY
Summer has arrived in the Tamar Valley at last; we have had to wait until mid-‐July this year but the past week has been glorious. This morning though had a fresher feel to it making it ideal for walking along the wooded paths near Gulworthy. There are many miles of trails here linking the eight or so mines that make up the Devon Great Consols, all part of the World Heritage Site.
Near the start of the trails are the Tree Surfers complex of rope walkways and bridges high up in the tree tops for adrenalin junkies of all ages to try, I know for a fact that at least one of our group has taken part. Today as all 24 of us left the car park we found we were following four bus-‐loads of youngsters from Somerset, some highly excitable and others a bit nervous-‐looking. All were being led by a guide weighted down with safety harnesses slung casually across his shoulder.
Following a long uphill section through woodland towards Wheal Anna Maria mine, some of us noticed the ochre-‐coloured water coming from an adit at the side of the path, this pigment comes from iron ore in the earth and often discharges after heavy rains like those we had before the current hot spell. It wasn’t far from here that we felt a few large rain spots falling on our bare skin and one or two of us donned our raincoats, but most chose to ignore them as we continued up towards the spoil heap and the arsenic calciners. Calciners were an essential part of most 19th century Cornish tin mines whose ores contained contaminating arsenic and sulphur; the calciners were often tended by women or girls. The toxic arsenic made the smelted tin brittle thus reducing its value so it had to be removed by roasting; it was then tossed aside forming massive heaps like the one in the background below until new uses were discovered for it.
We paused a bit higher up the trail where there are fine views to be had across the valley over the top of the spoil heap while behind us were the disused arsenic calciners at Wheal Anna Maria, all had been made safe before the trails opened to the public.
Leaving this once deadly spot behind us, we followed our leader Maggie as she turned right and then left and down this steep hill towards Wheal Fanny; the rain became heavier with every step we took.
Here beside the large pool at Wheal Fanny we stopped for a coffee break at the picnic tables, but some of the group just sheltered beneath the overhanging trees. The pool here can be very busy with dragonflies and damselflies in the warm summer months, but none emerged today in the rain!
This mine first opened in 1845 and was named Wheal Fanny after the newly born daughter of Josiah Hitchin, the man who talked the Duke of Bedford into allowing mining to take place on his land. Sadly little Fanny died the following year.
When work first began at Wheal Fanny the copper lode was struck just 5.5m below the surface. Beneath our feet these days it is like a subterranean labyrinth as this map shows. Three vertical shafts connect the lateral tunnels and apparently some of the underground workings are truly cavernous, up to 275m long, 73m high and 15m wide with shafts spreading out eastwards and westwards. As we stood here today I began to wonder just how much life those timber pit props still had left in them after nearly 200 years!
The rain was only short-‐lived and had stopped by the time we retraced our steps back up the hill along the Devon Great Consols trail and back past the spoil heap along a different path. A bit further on we passed a couple of huge ant hills and when one of the walkers poked her walking pole into one of them, swarms of huge Wood Ants emerged making my skin crawl, ugh!
Further on still, at the northern most edge of the site we passed some farmland beyond the boundary hedge and the main group paused so a few of the walkers could catch up. As we waited the farmer entertained us by driving up and down in his tractor on top of some recently dried hay. The contraption he was pulling sucked up the hay and rolled it up before spewing large bales out of the back with a plop.
Soon everyone was walking back past the
tree-‐surfer’s complex where some of the very excitable female, teenagers high up in the tree-‐tops were shrieking “Oh, my God!” over and over, bringing a smile to our mature faces.