Pensive Pendennis
The squat Tudor castle on Pendennis Head guards the approaches to Falmouth Harbour like a petrified crouched dragon awaiting its moment in the limelight. But throughout its 400-year lifespan, neither the French nor the Spanish, not even the American, fleet has sailed into view. One could imply that it has served its purpose, and that the good people of Truro and beyond have been spared many of the lacerations of our horrible history by its mere presence.
That said, Pendennis Castle remains at the ready. Its ramparts may seem flimsy in these times of hypersonic weapons and its canons rendered museum pieces by the zeitgeist of technology. Yet it was built to deter, and it retains that sense of staunch defiance - at least at an energetic level.
Despite the professional and well-meaning modern-day makeover by English Heritage, Pendennis was never intended to be likeable or homely. So it is no surprise that on the date of our visit it dowsed overall as being 4.5/10 (slightly detrimental) - although it has to be acknowledged that even that's better than the 1.5/10 (not at all pleasant) it was suffering sometime during the 1600s.
Built in the early 1500s, this coastal fort, jointly with its military twin at St Mawes, was on the front line of the defence of the realm. Its purpose was strictly utilitarian and, like the airports and motorways of our current age, location was all, with no concern whatever for the erosion of previous footprints. Yet the ghosts of the past aren't erased from the historical record that easily. The stone fortress was not the first structure to dominate this promontory.
Although a search of the site guidebook, and indeed the internet, tells us that the present complex dates from 1539 onwards - dowsing paints a very different picture. Prior to the arrival of the building we see today, primarily constructed in the reign of Henry VIII, the headland hosted at least one menhir and a stone circle of some size. However, by the time the Tudor masons arrived, these former megaliths had been felled by late-mediaeval zealots. Interestingly, dowsing indicates that the stones themselves were not in the main removed, but merely toppled. In fact, the remnants of those stones remain on site in amongst the rubble hardcore that underpins the original castle.
Five ageless leys cross the heart of the site, though none of them appear to start there. In addition, there are a similar number of much later significant lines of consciousness, mostly dating from the historical period. The visual alignment with St Mawes Castle, across the estuarial Carrick Roads, is particularly evident - as is a similar line heading towards the TV masts near Redruth, which are presumably also erected on a site of previous significance.
No more than two of the leys cross at any given location, but rather the famous five form a cluster of crossing points which might have been marked in some way by a few of the former standing stones. While most of the ley intersections inevitably do fall within the ramparts of the castle, the format of the architecture seems to ignore them completely. Either Henry's masons knew nothing of the forces in the ether, or they were probably wise enough not to raise the concept. Catholics might have been anathema, but Cornish pre-Christians were doubtless off the Tudor radar altogether.
But, strangely, one set of lines is reflected in the layout of the fortress. The top two levels - the most prominent observation positions - appear to align with Benker grid lines. I have to admit that I found this finding a bit unlikely, given my other results, yet there was no question - the uppermost section of the tower is precisely defined by the Benker grid, as is the outline of the observation platform from which it is accessed.
Did the builders in the early 16th century really know about this? Apparently, they did. But then why did they ignore everything else underfoot? It is not the first time that I have found different energy grids reflected in the successive stages of the development of a site which has evolved over many epochs, but this aspect of Pendennis is a bit unusual, to put it mildly.
Water lines and pictograms can be found across the footprint of the granite fortifications, but again there seems to be no reflection whatsoever of these in the built form. This was, and remains, a no-nonsense military establishment, without a passing nod to the non-physical - so why the Benker anomaly? Answers on a postcard (remember them?), please.
While Pendennis is no dowsers paradise, it does have some seriously impressive panoramic views, some friendly and helpful staff and (as I write) a gift shop resplendent with post-Christmas bargains. While stocks of socks last!
Nigel Twinn
Tamar Dowsers
January 2025