I stayed at a
campsite close to Botallack, west of Pendeen, and walked in the
morning to the Botallack Mines - or the Crown Mines as they are
sometimes called. These are the most iconic and much photographed
Cornish tin mines because they are beautifully poised on the side of
the cliff.
Botallack Mines |
It was a bright,
sunny day and I walked through small fields, all
irregular sizes and uneven ground, with coarse
thistley grass, and with
hefty stone walls wide enough to run along, their sides thick with
grass and brambles. The land feels lost in time, remote and poor,
even though the odd incomers have done up a few nice old farmhouses.
I
walked on about a mile to the east to the Levant Mine, passing the
hollowed out brick carcasses of other ruined mines with their tall,
round chimneys.
The
Levant Mine, opened in 1820, first mined copper, and then tin. It
closed in 1930 and is now owned by the National Trust.
The stone steps are just visible on the left |
The
entry to the mine, when it first opened, was via a cleft in the side
of the cliff. The men had to climb down steep, slippery stone steps
to get to the face of the mine,1500ft below. It took them an hour and
a half to get down there before they could start work, and they'd
probably walked 4m from St Just to get there. As the mine developed
the face went down to 1800ft, and two miles out to sea. I can't
imagine how hard it must have been, hacking into the rock; it's very
hot that far under the sea, and the air was very thin. At the end of
their shift they had to walk back up those steps, and home again. It
isn't surprising that their working lives on the face were short:
maybe from age 14 to 30 - but it probably didn't feel so short to
them.
After
some years the mine owners decided that the walk down the steps
wasted too many man hours. Cages pulled up and down the very narrow
shaft by steam engines could only carry four men and they were slow.
So in the late 1800s the mine owners installed an engine which
carried men, two at a time, on narrow platforms. Ledges were set into
the side of the shaft at 12ft intervals, and as the engine lifted the
men they would step off one platform and on to a ledge; then on to
the next platform as it came up. Is that clear?! It meant that when a
shift changed men were coming out of the top of the shaft every seven
seconds.
Disaster
struck on 20 October 1919. Men coming out of the top of the shaft
noticed that no one was getting out behind them, so they ran back to
see what had happened. The engine had collapsed and fallen half way
down the shaft. More than 30 men died and many more were injured. It
was the worst Cornish mining disaster in history.
I
felt so moved by the whole area – the beauty of it, and the tough life of the people who lived there. I think it was seeing the old mines, once
such powerful, busy places employing hundreds of men, that made it so
evocative.
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