Rainbow Journeyman’s diary

Trundling power, where water sprites meet
Iron wood clad paddles turn from Bourne water leat
Fine powdered grain, Life’s thread to gain.
Natures Own Gold, granules of wheat
Animals feed, from Man’s winter store. Summer suns harvest, brought in from afar.
Blue painted wagons -Horse’s sweats pour
Harness Leathers straining - delivered, to store.
Water sprites turning
Granite stones honed, chiselled and dressed.
Silken White flour, Crust bread stock… the best.

Rainbow Journey courtesy of Windsong Traveller.

Travelling as a Journeyman can be interesting. As I think I have mentioned before, you can meet some very entertaining people when you travel as much as we do.

Just like the guy with his English family who was on tour from the colonies, Australia. We met him on the beach at Trebarwith Strand. Good looking fella, little grey on the top but bright with it and charming to talk too. But Australian.

Now I am not knocking Australia. Or Australians. It was my cousin Greg from Australia who told me… “The maker (what ever your belief) made a beautiful land under the Southern Cross. He made it green, fertile and full of wealth; tremendous natural resources and a surfers coastline to live for. After the maker gave it its final touch to finish what was already perfection, he looked at it and thought to himself that it was too perfect.
So he took it away from the appointed gardian keepers, the aborigines, and gave it to the Australians. And they have been wrecking it ever since.”

Whoa now! Before you start digging trenches, I have family out there somewhere. After they got off the prison ships…..

As I was saying this rather distinguished Gentleman had come from the Aus to see his Grandchildren. (His words). We met on a tricky piece of shaped rock full of holes (See Trebarwith Strand) and water bridges that needed us to grasp hands to pass each other. Or go walk about on water.
We chose the friendly bit. Poppy, our dog, thought we were nuts. Her fours legs offered ample grip for the occasion.
Passing that close involves some niceties and with two cameras slung round my neck I either had to be a fellow tourist or an eeejiot. I think that he settled for the latter. Anyway we got chatting about England and Australia. As a time served Aussie he was very complimentary about our heritage. He was also very interested in our Journeyman’s Diary as he felt that too many people spent more time burning up tarmac with fast cars and too few got out into the remains of our Heritage to take a real look at what we have left. He and I had a common bond although we had never met before. His and my ancestors had graced the hold of a prison ship and been transported to the colonies for minor misdemeanors. Mine stole a chicken, his a sheep. The Judge at Bodmin Court thought a boat trip and a holiday would improve their health. Many died waiting in Prison Hulks.

Now to me, and my hard working office-bound team, that is what Journeymen are all about. Meeting with history. It’s not the dates to fill the history books, 1066 and all that. That’s for purists and bores at dinner parties. It’s the people behind the dates. The real people, who’s hard won ambition under terrible conditions was to raise a few kids, dig a plot of land, live under a non-leaking roof; have a few beers (If that is your tipple) and live a long life for life itself.

Few of these people who built these landscapes that we have photographed did all of that. Life expectancy was too short. The Judges sentences for minor demeanors too harsh. The prison boats too handy.

Now what’s he at…I can almost hear you say it! (Or as some Devonians say “Where’s he too”) OK, you have a point but let’s look at the photographs that we have taken. Let’s look at Morwhellan Quay for starters. It didn’t just happen.

Would you build a jetty and a boat yard on a river that can walk through your land whenever it chooses? I don’t think so. So why build a processing plant and dig a deep hole in the valley to pull out mineral ore where it floods all too often?
At a guess, and I have to say it’s pretty shrewd guess we come back to the profits for the mines and a reverse cargo for their boats; Lime. Neat isn’t it. Products extracted from ore go out, lime comes back in, and someone made a profit. But it was the skills of the Journeymen who put it together. The guys who were paid in scrip that could only be cashed in at the company shops.

So trade grows and you repair a few ships as well, when they get bent. Ship worms bore holes in boat planking, and bumping into nasty sharp pieces of rock do make bigger holes, as you are aware. And you don’t nip down to Plymouth to get the odd plank welded into position, that’s too far away. It’s at least a day’s journey, there and back by boat - if you look out for the tides and the wind, longer. But you as an owner, you are a smart cookie, you have the staff captive, you now run an MOT yard for all river boats. Repair your own, and invite others in. And, as you have got the skills from these voluntary captive workers living in your tied cottages benefitting from your little enterprises, you knock together the odd sea going vessels. Make a few barrels for other trades. Run a foundry. ………….. But who does all this? Who left all these wonderful works of architecture around for us to see?

Why, people of course, your people, my people. (Before the excise men got them to travel in chains voluntarily of course to Australia for finding a little extra food to feed their children). Or the judges hung them!

Oh, without doubt there was a Lord or Master at the top of the pile, away in the big city looking after the affairs of the estate. But don’t give him/her a thought they took their profits then. Take time in your thinking while you look at this site and think of the craft skills that were developed.

Look at the Great Overshot Water Wheel at Morwhellan. Look at the solid built boat sheds and the craft trade shops, each built for their own profession. Feel the steel of the over head railways, horse drawn wagons feeding ore to the boats bumping and nurdling on the slip way below. Look at the huge Lime Kilns. The remains of the boilers and the rusting hauling gear. The Rail tracks running to the Jetties from deep in the mines.

Twasn’t the Jack me lad in London’s work who supplied the skill or the brains. It was Travelling Journeymen and skilled local craftsmen wot did it. And left us a Superb Heritage to see. Our “Jack-me-lad” in London was to too busy developing his jaw muscles and gambling the profits.

So while you look at these pictures and of others in our gallery remember… It was people from our heritage that dug the holes and cut the poles that staved the barrel and climbed the mast to build what lasts. Your heritage.

Enjoy the pictures. We enjoyed taking them.

Mike Tyrrell for Rainbowjourneyman South West.
Oh and if you want a short cut to our site. Try rjsw.co.uk

Talking to one of our clients the other day I was amazed to hear that she thought that Journeymen were an easy going lot that packed the odd camera whenever they were toddling off to some location for a bit of a break. Not true. Our Head honcho gets most upset if we don’t put an even balance of pictures together covering a broad spectrum of locations, both from Devon and Cornwall.
Oh and it doesn’t stop there. Our Helen, also in Head office, has a tactful way of letting you know that she wants a picture set from a particular area. Oh its very subtle in the way that it is done. A gentle hint you’d think? No not our Helen. Straight for the throat and give no quarter.
“Why haven’t we got more thatched cottages?” Says Helen.
“Well, you see a lot of Devon thatch was removed and replaced by slate, you can tell by the tag tiles on the chimney” says I. Not to be put off by the slick reply she bounces back with…
“What’s wrong with Port Isaac. We don’t have many pictures of Port Isaac.”
“Ah!” says I, with all the guile of a long established married man. “That’s because we havn’t been back to that area of the coast recently: because Head Honcho wants us to do more around North East Devon.” Game set and match I thought. Not so.
“Isn’t Port Isaac on the route to St Just? You did that recently.” OK Helen, I give in, I will lie down and roll over. Scratch my tummy!

Which brings me to the point of our journies. The more we do the more we do so to speak. There is so much magnificent scenery down here that when we start to plan a trip we spend ages poring over an ordnance survey map, often weeks before we set out. (Slow readers?)

There are so many items we have to consider beside where to go. The least of which is what sort of camera kit you take with you. Like all good journeymen we take the “trip” seriously. Miserly, we plan to pass the best and lowest cost fuel station on route and work out where the best tea/coffee rooms are. That sounds easy but is you really want to sit in a tourist fast food outlet while sombody’s little angel paws at your cameras with a “My dads got a better one of those” then you have got to be joking. So planning is a must.

There’s mundane things like sun blocker. Water for the dogs, Poppy and Teddy. (Essential planning acoutrements to keep inquisitive cows and tourists away when you are perched on a headland.) (If only they knew how dozy they are. Especially Teddy!) And…insect repellant. Our horse flies, like everything else in Devon, are larger than life. I still swear it was one of these that stole my sandwich the other day. Not, as some local children cheerfully pointed out, an albatross or a seagull!!
The insects down here really bite and they have no pride. (Scars are available for viewing every February the 31st!) Some of the places that they manage to find with their nippy bits you would not tell a vicar about. Then there’s lens cloths. Weather gear. (Wet and Dry) Plastic Bags for camera shields and Kitchen foil to be used to reflect light on. (Good cheap tip) A compass. (Dartmoor and Bodmin Moor make no exceptions on how you get lost.) And Parking Money. Sounds silly doesn’t it. Parking Money!! Let me tell you we spent a frustrating 20 minutes circling our target area in darkest Cornwall trying our hardest to find a Newsagent or filling station so that we could buy a paper to get in our change money to park Clever but stupid!

Oh and there’s more. But it will have to wait as we have a trip to plan. I will give you some insight into individual trips in my next sound off.. Talk soon

Mike Tyrrell for Rainbowjourney South West. try us on www.rjsw.co.uk it’s quicker..

Rainbow Journeymen are sometimes, when they are taking photographs that is, accosted by the public. Some of these strange people. Or should I say, some of these people are strangely misguided and under the opinion that taking photographs in a public place is against the privacy of individuals.
And to add to that, strange persons in public offices have poured fuel to that fire by telling the public that they must report to the police when they see a photographer in a public place. (Thank you Red Ken) What stuff and nonsense this is.
MP Austen Mitchell defends the freedom of the photographer and rightly so. We all know that there is the odd weirdy our there who’s intent is evil, but using an Armoured tank to remove a worm isn’t the answer. The damage caused by the tank tracks are far greater that the removal of this nematode. Would you really want to have fashion papers with no fashion. Devon Life magazines with no life. I think not.

Through camera clubs and working with professionals who take photographs for a living, I have seen many examples, good and bad, of what we as photographers are trying to achieve: quality images for public pleasure and appraisal! And sometimes…. if we are lucky, to achieve the high standards that we set ourselves. A picture that we can look back on and say in all honesty, I was proud of that one because….

Now if you also follow my trend of thoughts here, when most people go out they dress to be noticed. Isn’t that what fashion and putting on the style is about? My daughters, bless them, will tell you that it is. And, whilst we humbly strive to acheive the pictorial standards layed down over the years by National Geographical we need this colour in our lives. Indeed, where would we be without N.G.’s offerings along with hundreds of quality magazines that subscribe to ethical standards of images worth a second look!
We all hope for our futures to have pictures for our children and their children to look at….. and laugh at like drains over the style and fashion as she is worn today. I know we did over my mothers photgraphs of her youth.

So Journeymen don’t go out to be nosey. They don’t go out to pry. Their interest, and I have to say most of it doesn’t include people, is for the structure of architecture, the flora and fauna ( That’s flowers, trees and weeds to me and you!) and the way life is under the lens of a camera in these pressured times.

We want you to look at pictures of our beautiful South West. We cannot in words describe the incredible kick we still get in going over the top of a headland to see a harbour bathed in morning sunlight, boats lying on their sides with net unfurled in the sunshine tended by fisherfolk. (Sorry Hay fever sufferers and all those with Agrophobia.) Or to see a freshly mown field awash with colour as seen through a five bar gate on a lazy siummers evening. Absolute Magic.

And the people caught by our lenses here in the West Country? Most of them are honest down to earth, Cornwallies and Devonians, with no axe to grind. Honest fun loving humans with a caring need to make a living. And, anyway, we always ask, when they are working to repair a net or to tend a stacked kiln. (Just in case they are refugeess from an over zealous wife. I joke of course!!!) These are the real people, people who enjoy as much as we do the spririt of the West Country with all of the natural benefits we gain from living here. Not some pompous person hiding behind a badge of office who’s only knowledge of photography matches the sordid narrow minded stupidity of their minds.

So you see, or I think you do, the spirit of living in these areas of incredible beauty only lacks two values. Sound and smells. We wish we could bring you the sound of the estuary when we photograph. The call of the curlews and gulls as they patrol this feeding ground and the sticky essence of tide exposed mud flats. The interesting smells of the Fishing wharves and the banter of the fishermen as they cleverly weave the broken strands of their nets back in to working shape. Maybe, also, you can listen in your minds eye to the crack of the new ice on the inner Harbour at Padstow when we photographed there last winter.

In our West Country our People in their public places strive to bring you pleasure. Docton Mill, Hartland Abbey, Pencarrow, Helen Bridge Pottery. The incredible rock formation of Sandymouth Bay, ( And I shall probabley be slagged by my colleagues for not mentioning the rest) are just a few of the many many places that we have been priviledged to capture on camera.

Meanwhile as the mood takes me I will continue to add to these blogs. If you have been do keep reading.

The Road goes forever on…………….