A Thousand Miles of History XXI: The land that time forgot

Such interesting travels.

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

We stood on the clifftop just beyond Ballowall Barrow, marvelling at the beauty of the seascape, or what we could see of it through the gathering mist. The bracken was already thigh-high, covering the fractured stone with a green blanket scattered with a profusion of wildflowers. Below us the Atlantic waves foamed as they broke on the reefs and beaches. The sea-mist covered any trace of the hand of man. There could be no more magical landscape.

As we watched, strange faces and creatures came to life in the rocks as the ‘dragon’s’ breath’ swirled around them. It felt as if we were on the edge of time and place, not just the edge of the country… and as if one more step would take our feet out onto the eddying clouds and into that realm where the Fae and the Pobol Vean reside.  Or, perhaps the mist would carry…

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