Author Archives: James Rogerson

The Union Jack on the squat tower of St Just church is at half mast, the cloth caught around the wires that support the flagpole. The shape appears like a crooked 8. The bottom flaps joltingly like an animal trying to free itself from something. We are in a period of national mourning for theContinue reading “SWCP – Cape Cornwall to Porthmeor September 10th 2022”

I have been stopped by a stream. The sun is out and dances on the riffles of the water, sending flashes into my eyes like cartoon explosions. The light hovers in the branches above my head the way sunlight wobbles on a swimming pool floor. There’s something a bit UFOesque about it. Am I feelingContinue reading “Tramping Diaries. SWCP – Porth Nanven to Cape Cornwall October 25th 2021”

I wake up to the sound of the ocean crashing outside my window. The sea air coming through the open window makes the curtain flick every now and again like a teenage girl playing with her hair. The air is fresh on my face. I breathe and stretch luxuriously like a cat. Would I lieContinue reading “Tramping Diaries. SWCP – Sennen to Cape Cornwall. October 25th 2021.”

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 baysContinue reading “Tramping Diaries. SWCP – Land’s End October 24th 2021”

The black bell on the black buoy continues to toll. It is a small pyramid, a tiny detail in the enormity of the ocean. It rocks from side to side in the buffeting waves. The sound of it is a low moan, reaching me intermittently through the roar of the westerly I’m walking into. IContinue reading “Tramping Diaries SWCP – Porthgwarra to Land’s End October 24th 2021”

I have arrived at the triangle of white gold. The water surface is bumpy. One heavy wave after another rises, curls and falls with a heavy ‘crump’ onto the sand. After each a trail of white surf is dragged back to sea. Encampments of 2 or 3 people sit at polite distances from each other.Continue reading “Tramping Diaries. SWCP Porthcurno October 24th 2021”

Between St Loy and Penberth I was in a trance. When I arrive my eyes are brought into sharp focus. Aside from those closest to me, the tramp has been my greatest constant. For 20 years I’ve struggled to sleep. And when the chips have been down I’ve forced myself out. Anywhere, but preferably awayContinue reading “Tramping Diaries SWCP – St Loy to Penberth September 13th 2021”

I am picking my way amongst boulders like the backs of hippos. The sea is to my left. There is nothing between myself and the horizon that indicates any other life. The entrancing wash of the waves onto the beach allows the images to unravel as if from a film projector. At the end ofContinue reading “Tramping Diaries SWCP St Loy September 13th 2021”

The first thing I notice when I wake is the last thing I remember before falling asleep: the constant shh…shhh…shhhh of the waves. Like a mother calming her baby. Once again I feel accompanied. Less lonely than when I wake alone in Clifton. This desire for lone walking seems to have always been there. AsContinue reading “Tramping Diaries SWCP Kemyel Point to St Loy September 13th 2021”

Surprises. There is no shortage of them on any adventure. I always have a mental image of a place before I arrive. The Old Coastguard could only be one of those typical solid, whitewashed pubs dimly lit by lanterns which has withstood Atlantic wind and waves for centuries. Yet here I am looking across aContinue reading “Tramping Diaries. SWCP Mousehole to Kemyel Point September 12th”

It’s a lovely late Summer’s day. It’s still shorts weather. It’s better for walking if I can wear them. I like to keep it as lightweight as possible. Almost taking it to the same extremes as pa. At his memorial service there was a picture of him walking with the Austrian Alpine Club. He wasContinue reading “Tramping Diaries. SWCP – Newlyn to Mousehole September 12th.”

Lovely to wake up in fresh sheets in a strange bed in a strange town. It’s like the first morning waking up on a holiday. I lie staring at the ceiling thinking about the people of Penzance. A few weeks ago I heard an item on Radio 4 about how during lockdown house prices inContinue reading “Tramping Diaries. SWCP – Penzance to Newlyn August 18th”

I have that strange swirling confusion of waking up in the middle of the day. Storks of long grass nod their heads close to my face. I rub my eyes. I’ve probably been asleep 5 or 10 minutes. It’s never any longer when I sleep in the day. Strange images flutter around my consciousness likeContinue reading “Tramping Diaries SWCP Porthleven to Penzance August 17th”

I’m looking over the golden crescent that is Praa Sands. The backdrop of sky and sea is grey. The air feels cool for the time of year. People seem to have tried to stay loyal to their Summer wardrobe – shorts, blouses, flip flops – while at the same time having to add to it:Continue reading “Tramping Diaries SWCP Praa Sands and Prussia Cove August 17th”

The worm wakes. These moments never fail to surprise me. The ocean is at my feet, whispering softly on the rocks. What Roger Deakin called ‘the whispering white line’ where the sea meets the land. It sounds like deep breathing, like someone sleeping. Dawn creeps up over the line of the Lizard that recedes awayContinue reading “Tramping Diaries SWCP Porthleven Dawn August 16th”