Bodmin Moor Cornwall Stones, Spirits, Solitude, Inspiration
Rather than depending on GPS, the best method to traverse Cornwall’s Bodmin Moor, a rough terrain of granite, involves obtaining a classic Ordnance Survey map. Author Louis de Bernières embraced this approach while exploring the setting for his recent creation, “Light Over Liskeard,” a dystopian fantasy described as “heartwarming.” The narrative follows Q, a quantum cryptographer, who seeks refuge and self-sufficiency in an isolated farmhouse on the moor, foreseeing the collapse of civilization.
The esteemed writer behind “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin” chose Bodmin Moor for a specific purpose: it stands as one of the farthest points from densely populated regions. Although the moor is encircled by small towns like Liskeard and sprinkled with compact villages, it lacks close proximity to major cities and accessible highways. Consistent phone signal is also rare, turning the notion of off-grid living into a viable prospect amid the rugged formations of the High Moor. In this lesser-explored section of Cornwall, solitude is readily achievable.
I found it to be barren and mysterious, a domain teeming with ghosts and vestiges. It felt reminiscent of being in an unfamiliar territory.
During my recent return to my native moorland, given that I was born in Liskeard, I trekked up the deserted Leskernick Hill. Amongst sheep, gorse, and scattered remnants of ancient hut circles, I witnessed the gathering gloom of clouds over the rugged summit of Brown Willy (Cornwall’s highest peak at 419 meters). A brief, intense rainfall ensued, followed by the appearance of a rainbow. It felt like I was in a Cornwall seldom pictured by most.
Much like numerous visitors to the county, Louis de Bernières’ initial encounters with Bodmin Moor were fleeting glimpses of its captivating landscapes from the A30 highway. Nevertheless, he had the chance to engage with the Bodmin Moor Poetry Festival a few years back. Recollecting the experience, he remarked, “I ventured on some walks across the moor. I found it to be a solitary and mysterious place, resonating with the echoes of spirits and the vestiges of abandoned mines and quarries. It possessed an eerie, atmospheric, and distinctly unusual essence, almost like a foreign backdrop for a tale.”
Bodmin Moor, distinguished as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, is steeped in its own profound tales. The landscape boasts tumuli, Bronze Age standing stones, cairns, and quoits (Cornish for megalithic tombs). Ancient settlements intermingle with remnants of 19th-century engine houses and abandoned mineral railways on the rugged granite tors, marking the historical tin and copper mining booms in the area (a part of the Cornish Mining World Heritage Site). The moor also serves as the source for several rivers, including the Looe, Lynher, Fowey, and Camel.
According to legend, the stack of granite slabs known as the Cheesewring owes its existence to the feats of giants. Nearby Minions features the Hurlers, three concentric rings of standing stones considered among the southwest’s finest ceremonial circles by English Heritage. Legend has it that these stones represent men transformed into stone for playing the game on a Sunday.
De Bernières found himself fascinated by Bodmin Moor’s connections to King Arthur. Hence, one of his characters assumes the persona of an “anachronistic Arthurian knight waiting for the king’s return.” Readers encounter Bedwyr Bedryant on horseback along the shores of Dozmary Pool, a serene and somewhat eerie lake. Legend suggests that Arthur’s sword Excalibur rests at the bottom of this lake.
After a brief but intense rain shower, a rainbow emerged, highlighting the stark contrast between the Cornwall that’s commonly envisioned and the reality I found myself in.
Perhaps not, or at least not in a similar vein. The moor’s captivating allure lies in its unspoiled natural beauty. Those with an affinity for this locale embrace its stark vistas and unpredictable weather, termed “peninsular convergence” in meteorological circles. Caradon Hill, overlooking Liskeard, boasts the title of Cornwall’s wettest spot. Navigating through damp heathlands in durable boots and waterproof gear isn’t quite reminiscent of a sunny Greek island beach. The narrative doesn’t present obvious pathways akin to “Light Over Liskeard.”
The novel weaves a tapestry of entirely fictional elements—marinated mouse kebabs, aurochs, and domesticated lynxes—while also referencing a handful of real locations. Leskernick Hill and Bray Down, positioned in the northern High Moor, emerge on the horizon. However, the narrative chiefly unfolds in the southern realm near Brown Gelly or Stowe’s Hill, encompassing Cheesewring Quarry, the villages of St Neot, St Cleer, and Upton Cross. Here, rugged granite tors blend seamlessly into verdant heathlands, tumbling into deep valleys clothed in lush temperate rainforests. Oaks cloaked in velvety moss and adorned with lichen dot the landscape. Along the roadside, sheep and shaggy brown cows leisurely graze, confined only by cattle grids and low dry stone walls.
Liskeard, one of the four historic mining towns encircling the moors (alongside Callington, Bodmin, and Launceston), finds a place in the narrative due to its visibility from the tor where the characters reside, as the author elucidates, “I realized that, when examining my OS map, if you ascended the tor where I’ve situated my characters, Liskeard is the only sizable town you’d be able to see.”
