BY DOMINIC WIGHTMAN
Yesterday, as I wandered with my dogs along the rugged Cornish coast, it struck me that a seemingly inconspicuous rockpool off the beach at Duporth has silently witnessed the relentless march of time. Encased in a frame of weathered stone, this modest pool has observed and mirrored the lives of those who have paused to gaze into its clear depths over many centuries. Like a primitive CCTV, it has recorded, in its own subtle way, both the transient and the eternal.
In the Middle Ages, when the Cornish seas were as perilous as they were unpredictable, mariners would have sought refuge along this very stretch of shoreline. The weary faces of these seafarers, reflected in the water, would have found in this rockpool a sanctuary of calm amid their turbulent lives. To them, the rockpool was a fleeting respite from their dangerous voyages—a quiet sanctuary in contrast to their harsh mistress, the sea.
By the seventeenth century, the focus of the rockpool’s images had shifted to local fishermen. The pool would have captured their reflections, telling tales of gruelling labour and subdued pride.
The arrival of the nineteenth century brought poets and artists to the Cornish coast, seeking inspiration from its natural splendour. Clara Penrose, the Romantic poet, might have found a kindred spirit in the rockpool. “In these depths,” she could have written, “I perceive the intertwining of beauty and melancholy.” The serene reflection of the pool would have served as a fine muse.
During the Second World War, the rockpool likely became a mirror to soldiers like Private Thomas Bennett, stationed in Cornwall and scarred by the horrors of battle. “Here,” he might have thought as he peered into the pool’s calm surface, “I can momentarily escape the chaos of war.”
In more recent decades, the rockpool has seen modern-day explorers and holidaymakers on their universal quest for peace in our increasingly frantic world. Their reflections revealing a timeless search for tranquillity amidst the clamour of contemporary life.
As I zipped my manhood back up, I thanked the rockpool for being there when I needed it in the twenty-first century. I had been desperate for a wee since joining the coastal path at Carlyon Bay.
Dominic Wightman is the Editor of Country Squire Magazine and the author of Dear Townies and Arcadia amongst other books.