Falmouth

Falmouth is a town with contrasting coastlines.  From the harbour side of the town on the Fal estuary and the famous Carrick Roads to the beautiful beach on Falmouth Bay, Falmouth is a town of contrasts.

In the seventeenth century, Falmouth was given chartered status following its growth after Sir John Killigrew created a busy port and town earlier that century (following a suggestion by Sir Walter Raleigh)

In the previous century, Henry VIII built 2 forts on opposing sides of the entrance to the Carrick Roads at St. Mawes (St. Mawes Castle) and opposite Pendennis Castle as defences against attacks from the Spanish and French.  Both Castles are open to the public and Pendennis Castle runs a series of events throughout the year.  St. Mawes Castle was used as a means for defending Falmouth harbour during the Second World War.  The land on which Pendennis Castle was built was originally leased from the Killigrew Family.

The poet Lord Byron once sailed from Falmouth en-route to Lisbon and wrote ‘Lines on Mr. Hodgson Written on Board the Lisbon Packet.'  The National Maritime Museum in Falmouth has an exhibit that is devoted to the Falmouth Packet.

In the 1860's, the railways finally linked to Falmouth and the prosperity of the town rose as tourism increased.  Later that decade, Falmouth became a "Packet Station" for the Royal Mail and was used to transport mail around the British Empire and maintained its status as the only port where mail entered and left the country.

The harbour at Falmouth is the 3^rd largest natural harbour in the world and the deepest one in Western Europe and plans are being considered to construct a new cruise liner terminal along with plans to re-develop both Falmouth and Penryn.

Places of interest in and around Falmouth include the National Maritime Museum and Mylor Harbour.  Mylor Harbour is signposted out of Penryn and well worth a visit.  There is a great restaurant at Mylor as well as plenty of water sports centres where you can enjoy kayaking around the Carrick Roads as well as learning to windsurf or simply hire a bike and enjoy the country lanes around Mylor.

Lord Byron's poem - Lines on Mr. Hodgson Written on Board the Lisbon Packet:

Huzza! Hodgson, we are going,

Our embargo's off at last;

Favourable breezes blowing

Bend the canvass o'er the mast.

From aloft the signal's streaming,

Hark! the farewell gun is fir'd;

Women screeching, tars blaspheming,

Tell us that our time's expir'd.

Here's a rascal

Come to task all,

Prying from the custom-house;

Trunks unpacking

Cases cracking,

Not a corner for a mouse

'Scapes unsearch'd amid the racket,

Ere we sail on board the Packet.

Now our boatmen quit their mooring,

And all hands must ply the oar;

Baggage from the quay is lowering,

We're impatient--push from shore.

"Have a care! that case holds liquor--

Stop the boat--I'm sick--oh Lord!"

"Sick, ma'am, damme, you'll be sicker,

Ere you've been an hour on board."

Thus are screaming

Men and women,

Gemmen, ladies, servants, Jacks;

Here entangling,

All are wrangling,

Stuck together close as wax.--

Such the genial noise and racket,

Ere we reach the Lisbon Packet.

Now we've reach'd her, lo! the captain,

Gallant Kidd, commands the crew;

Passengers their berths are clapt in,

Some to grumble, some to spew.

"Hey day! call you that a cabin?

Why 't is hardly three feet square;

Not enough to stow Queen Mab in--

Who the deuce can harbour there?"

"Who, sir? plenty--

Nobles twenty

Did at once my vessel fill."

"Did they? Jesus,

How you squeeze us!

Would to God they did so still:

Then I'd 'scape the heat and racket

Of the good ship, Lisbon Packet."

Fletcher! Murray! Bob! where are you?

Stretch'd along the deck like logs--

Bear a hand, you jolly tar, you!

Here's a rope's end for the dogs.

Hobhouse muttering fearful curses,

As the hatchway down he rolls,

Now his breakfast, now his verses,

Vomits forth--and damns our souls.

"Here's a stanza

On Braganza--

Help!"--"A couplet?"--"No, a cup

Of warm water--"

"What's the matter?"

"Zounds! my liver's coming up;

I shall not survive the racket

Of this brutal Lisbon Packet."

Now at length we're off for Turkey,

Lord knows when we shall come back!

Breezes foul and tempests murky

May unship us in a crack.

But, since life at most a jest is,

As philosophers allow,

Still to laugh by far the best is,

Then laugh on--as I do now.

Laugh at all things,

Great and small things,

Sick or well, at sea or shore;

While we're quaffing,

Let's have laughing--

Who the devil cares for more?--

Some good wine! and who would lack it,

Ev'n on board the Lisbon Packet?

Lord George Gordon Byron

Pictures shown include views of Mylor Harbour, St. Mawes Castle and views of Falmouth from St. Mawes Castle.  The photographs contained herein are owned by David K. Williamson with whom the copyright remains.