wheal jane | no feed, no water, no chance

Getting to the middle of this soggy Cornish windswept field was an adventure in itself. Having found nowhere to park, our problems were compounded by strange van drivers, who seemed determined to drive around tracks and fields for no apparent reason; the same tracks and fields we wanted to traverse. Eventually, and after much doubling back, and cat-and-mouse, we eventually got to within sight of our quarry.

Initial impressions: good. This looked bigger than Mount Wellington.

Second impressions: bad. The field we were walking through was not home to a herd of cows as we originally thought, but a herd of bulls. We didnít wish to upset the rest of the group so we didnít tell them.

"Danger: Falling Debris And Objects" said the sign on the perimeter fence, which itself was now becoming a danger of falling on someone. Comedy.

It started raining hard. The wind whipped up. And the sky darkened more. The only option was to venture inside where it was even darker.