The sun is now a yellow smudge. It sinks into a bank of cloud that sits on the horizon. It creates a fan of light in the vapour. It’s getting cooler. I descend into coves, down steps and past rocks. Like many places before me. I try to recall the various points, hills and bays I’ve walked over. Portland Bill, Chesil Beach, Golden Cap, Lizard Point and so on and on. They are starting to fade in the memory.
This is the end of the land and it feels it. There are no people. I imagine myself as a dot on a map. To my right the crooked shape of the British Isles stretches north east. To my left is the Atlantic. I dream of being out there in the vastness.
The land is devoid of vegetation: bare and craggy. My only company is a group of jackdaws. There are six of them behaving in a crazed way. They hustle each other and perform acrobatics: rolling and diving like shiny black pieces of rock falling over the side of the cliff. One disappears for a second only suddenly to reappear again. It’s comical. Are they just having fun? What are their little brains thinking?
Despite Alastair’s warning Land’s End is still a surprise. There is an entrance. Why an entrance? An entrance into what? It feels like I’m arriving at a Colombian drug baron’s mansion. Not that I’ve ever been acquainted with a narco. It’s just that that’s what I imagine it would look like.
Neoclassical pillars hold up a pediment with ‘Land’s End’ in big letters. This is the entrance to a miniature amusement park. The Spanish style of architecture continues to where Wallace and Gromitt advertise a ‘Grand Adventure’ on the side of what looks like an Andalucian finca. Next door is Arthur’s Quest Adventure Maze where ‘Led by the voice of Brian Blessed…you will come face to face with Arthur, Merlin and the Mighty Dragon’. It sounds like someone having a bad trip.
A huge Morph, the first of Nick Park and Aardman Animations’ plasticine heros, stands looking over the scene while over his shoulder is the drama and roar of the open Atlantic. Lots of foreign tourists have their phones at the ready like gunslingers quick to snap anything that suddenly appears. I kind of love this place and its strangeness.
I’m intrigued to know who decided to set up Land’s End as a small entertainment park. Later I discover it’s owned by a company called Heritage Great Britain registered in Liverpool whose motto is ‘Custodians of the spaces and places that people love’. They also ‘own’ John O’ Groats.
Time is ticking on. Sometimes I’m too slow. I lost track today. It’s getting dark and the path is unclear. It’s another mile to Sennen. I anticipate that feeling of comfort of coming into habitation after the wilderness. Tonight I will sleep in a bed again in the Old Success Inn. I can’t wait.
The Slow Walker 