I've been thinking about and reviewing places I might not get to again. Kempthorn and Wren for example. One of the best.
Surprisingly, this treasure is on the beaten track (for the South West Coast Path is just that, in many places, a beaten track) but rarely visited I suspect, as access to it is neither obvious or easy. Someone has wanted to get down there at some time: there used to be firmly anchored ropes to assist the descent down the disintegrating cliff-slope until some zealot from whichever authority 'manages' the shoreline here removed the ropes and closed the nearby path with unpleasant little notices. So on my last visit to Kempthorn (my name for this place, see panel below) I had to descend and, more trickily, ascend, without benefit of the previously installed lifeline: not that difficult but I'm not as confident now so maybe, probably, this place won't host my footprints again (I was not minded to be told what to do by the zealot's notices, then and wouldn't be now either).
Once down to where the tides reach, there is still scrambling to be done to gain the sanded areas. A vertical rock-strata band bars one's way like a wall. But it has its weaknesses . . . The beach is backed with the usual (for this stretch of coastline) grey sandstone pebble swathes interspersed with the stumps of the land that once reached so much further westward, and which give so much sculptural joy to these south western shorelines. The beach itself is only seen fully at the lowest tides; it leads the eye to Kempthorn's Rock and perhaps to the remains of the shipwreck that breaks the surface at low water, just below Steeple Point.
I have felt the real exhilaration of solitude here, experienced the transience of sudden scene change, counter-balanced by timelessness of the processes being executed by the sea. The evidence of that force, working with gravity, abrasion, wind and weather is visible and foremost at every point. One could spend a lifetime frequenting just this one short stretch of the littoral and still not absorb more than a moderate percentage of the mystery and beauty of the place.
I regret that I've not been on Kempthorn in rough weather, storm, or at night. It does also have, to me at least, a slight air of menace. I've been very pleased to be there, but relieved too, to have regained the cliff top safely after the visits I have made to this secluded shore, taking as I leave, fresh insights into shore-line beauty that this superb location has in abundance. The colour there is particularly special, the imprint of time is simply quite singular. I like it there… I conclude though, that perhaps I ought not to risk another expedition to K&W, you know, decrepitude is gathering pace I fear, but I am content to have been lucky enough to have found Kempthorn and Wren and had it to myself each time. Result!!
I am planning to offer a flavour of this location in a flickr album called, what else: Kempthorn & Wren and that name will be a link to those images. I shall say unto you: Click on it, go on, you know you want to, even if you think you know what you are going to find there… you might just see what I'm on about*, you never know… BUT NOT NOW. Y'see, I haven't got to it yet, the lawn needs cutting (as it were). Watch this space!
* and you might guess correctly (what I am on about) as I have presented you with such a lot of pictures here, there might be nothing left for a Flickr album… Only I know whether that is actually true at the juncture.
Don't forget that by clicking on the images you can obtain a better view of them, if you can be troubled to do so.
