Ever feel like you're missing out on the real magic of a place because you're stuck in tourist season? Imagine exploring ancient, historic churches, steeped in legend and local lore, without the crowds. That's exactly what awaits in Cornwall's hidden corners during the quiet midwinter months.
Our journey begins with a fascinating glimpse into the symbolism and stories woven into these sacred spaces, starting with St Kew's church. While the stained glass window depicting St. Kew with a tamed bear at his feet is currently obscured by scaffolding for restoration, it hints at the fascinating connections we'll uncover. You can find more about St. Kew's church here: https://www.chct.info/histories/st-kew-st-james-the-great/. Just a few miles south, perched atop a chilly hilltop, stands St Mabyn's church. Its tower boasts weathered carvings of heraldic beasts, including a muzzled bear pointing its snout northwards. But the bear motif doesn't stop there. Inside, you'll find bears proudly displayed on the crests of prominent local families like the Prideaux, Barratt, and Godolphin families. This begs the question: what's with all the bears? Midwinter, when Cornwall sheds its summer skin and the tourist throngs subside, provides the perfect atmosphere to ponder these mysteries. It's a time to delve into local legends, Arthurian myths, and perhaps even consider the ancient reverence for the pole star, encircled by the constellation of the Great Bear.
Next on our itinerary is the secluded St Winnow church (https://www.stwinnowchurch.org.uk/), nestled alongside the tidal River Fowey. Reaching it involves navigating a labyrinth of narrow, winding lanes, adding to its sense of peaceful isolation. The church is dedicated to a Celtic missionary, Saint Winnow, often depicted with a handheld grindstone. The story goes that this devout man prioritized prayer over milling flour for the monks, a testament to his unwavering faith. It makes you wonder, doesn't it, if choosing devotion over duty is ever truly justifiable?
Venturing upstream, beyond Lostwithiel – once Cornwall’s bustling port – we encounter the towering presence of St Bryvyta's church in Lanlivery (https://acornishjourney.uk/the-churches/lanlivery-church/). Its tower serves as a landmark for miles around, adorned with carved symbols on corbels. Among these carvings are two lions clutching a stylized “tree of life,” their protruding tongues symbolizing a powerful force against evil. But here's where it gets controversial... Some interpret the lions as guardians of sacred knowledge, while others see them as purely defensive against malevolent spirits. Another intriguing image depicts crowned figures holding a young head with flowing locks, positioned between a severed giant’s head and the flaming sun. This imagery perhaps harkens back to ancient beliefs and a deep respect for the cycle of seasonal renewal. What do you think this imagery represents? Does it tap into something primal within us, a connection to our ancestors' beliefs?
Heading east, we arrive at the Grade I-listed St Marnarch's church in Lanreath (https://www.trelawnybenefice.com/stmarnarch-lanreath/). Inside, the Norman font is a masterpiece of intricate carvings, featuring zigzags, palmettes, and plaits. On remnants of 17th-century benches, rearing bears, once again, make an appearance, linking back to the Gryles and Bere families. Beneath roof bosses carved with stars, the Tudor rood screen retains remnants of painted saints and, lurking at its base, a primitive green man sprouts foliage, representing fertile earth. And this is the part most people miss... The Green Man represents the untamed power of nature, a constant reminder of the earth's vitality and our connection to it. Does his presence suggest a blending of pagan and Christian beliefs?
Finally, back home in St Dominic (https://www.opc-cornwall.org/Parnew/ad/dominick_st.php), cold winds whip frost-dried beech leaves into swirling drifts outside the church porch. During a sleety shower, a steep rainbow arches against the dark clouds that obscure Kit Hill. Within the tower, overlooking the looped-up bell ropes, St Dominica and her brother Indract (carrying a Tamar salmon) continue their peaceful vigil from the west-facing window. But even in this tranquil scene, a question lingers: what stories do these silent figures hold? What secrets are whispered on the wind as it sweeps through these ancient spaces?
So, what do you think? Are these churches just historical buildings, or are they portals to a deeper understanding of Cornwall's past, its people, and its connection to something larger than ourselves? Have you ever experienced the magic of exploring historical sites during the off-season? Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below!
