The Journey into the wild to claim Cornish land- Day 1
The Journey began with the long road to St Johns Cornwall. On the couch i met a fellow Essex man. We spoke of the trades we wished to follow and what our work would mean to us. I was planning to build a place in the woods where all could grow. I was not sure what i would achieve or what i would become but i knew it must be done. I crossed the water on a big chained boat and continued on the other side by foot. I kept myself moving my bags getting heaver with every step as i caught a gimps of my new green home.The legacy of my grandfather, kept by my father now to be reignited by me.

Finally i reached the ford, luckily at low tide so i could get to the gate i call my front door. I was struck by the beauty of mud and water. Great birds circled and dived above me. Most had traveled across the world to get here, on a journey not unlike my own. Across the Lake stood the city of Plymouth. A contrast of nature and what we had become. I opened my gate and entered. A path made years before led me deeper inside. Its walls a thick tapestry of brambles, Ivy, Chestnut and nettles. My bags dropped too the floor with a sigh of relief as i scouted out my camps location.

The woods was much bigger then i had imagined, filled with a diversity of plants and trees and carpeted in moss in many parts. There were many ferns and brambles. It would soon be harvest time. The ground was littered with branches withered and broken with many animal holes. A rabbit caught the corner of my eye and shot out of view. I knew i was not alone here. I thanked the earth for providing such a place abundant was resource and life. As i did a butterfly landed on a maple leaf beside me as if to say  "you have been heard ".

I found a clearing i thought was perfect and brought my bags to unpack. Drained by the day i wanted to sleep but i knew i needed to find water and food. With not the energy to forage i left up the road not knowing where  was going. I walked past grand stone houses with gardens to match and felt what i did not have. Now desperate for sustenance i look for a tap i could quickly grab but nothing was in view. Eventually i met a tall red haired man and asked him  " Where can i get a drink around here ". He told me the village pub had been closed for about four years. He said i had two options head for Antony about two miles down the road or Milbrook, much further away. I took the first option and headed further on. 

I reached the Pub the man had mentioned with a big smile and entered. It had been a beautiful walk if not for my needs. Inside it was very modern and the barman looked friendly so i asked for a water and a pint. I was told by another man in there there was many fish to be caught in the area and i was hopeful. I asked if there was a shop in town and he directed me to the room next door. It was part Pub part shop, they were really cashing in. I bought a few essentials and made my way back to the camp. On the way i picked up some good looking stones i knew i could use as tools as i had none. I was heavily loaded enough as it was. When i got back i made myself a fire pit with the stone a had brought. Halfway through doing so a Sharpe pain ran from my heel . It was either a bite or a sting. I hoped for the latter. A little worried and very tired i decided not to eat and deal with it in the morning. Plus then i could tell for sure if it was anything poisonous.