Cawsand Cottage

10/06/2026

The Eddystone Series · Part Three of Six

Stone, fire and oak.

After Winstanley, a silk merchant named John Rudyard built the second lighthouse in 1709. He took a shipbuilder’s approach rather than an architect’s, designing a smooth conical tower that could shed the sea rather than fight it. It stood for forty-seven years.

On the night of 2 December 1755, a candle set the lantern roof alight. The keeper on watch was Henry Hall - ninety-four years old, and by all accounts still remarkably active. He fought the fire heroically, throwing buckets of water upward at the flames. As he looked up, molten lead from the roof poured into his mouth. He was rescued, but died twelve days later. The piece of lead recovered from his stomach is now in the National Museums of Scotland.

Then came John Smeaton. He modelled his new stone tower on the shape of an oak tree, broad and rooted at the base, tapering above, and invented hydraulic lime cement to hold the granite blocks together underwater. It was a revolution in engineering. His tower was lit in 1759 and stood for 120 years, until the rock beneath it began to crack.

Plymouth loved Smeaton’s tower so much that when it had to come down, the city paid to dismantle it stone by stone and rebuild it on Plymouth Hoe, where it still stands today in its red and white stripes - just across the Sound from Cawsand.

08/06/2026

The Eddystone - The man who dared the storm.

In 1696, an eccentric showman and engineer named Henry Winstanley walked into the Admiralty in London and declared that he would build a lighthouse on the Eddystone Rocks. He was told it was impossible. He did it anyway.

On 14 November 1698, the world’s first open ocean lighthouse was lit. For five years, no ships were wrecked on the Eddystone. Winstanley’s extraordinary, ornate wooden tower had worked.

He had such faith in his creation that he said publicly he wished to be inside it during “the greatest storm there ever was.”

On 27 November 1703, during the most violent storm ever recorded in British history, he got his wish. By morning, there was no trace of the lighthouse, or of the man who built it.

Eight thousand sailors died in the Great Storm of 1703. Winstanley’s tower had stood for five years. But his idea - that a light could and should burn on those rocks — lived on. Within six years, someone else was already building.

07/06/2026

The Eddystone Series · Part One of Six

The Wicked Reef.

Before there was a lighthouse, there was only fear.

Nine miles from the shore at Cawsand, a group of submerged rocks called the Eddystone sat directly in the path of every ship approaching Plymouth Sound - one of England’s most vital naval harbours. They were so feared that sailors would cross to the French coast rather than risk sailing near them.

In 1620, even Christopher Jones, captain of the Mayflower, described them plainly: “A wicked reef of twenty-three rust red rocks lying nine-and-a-half miles south of the Devon mainland — great ragged stones around which the sea constantly eddies, a great danger to all ships hereabouts.”

From the shore at Cawsand, the fishing community here knew those rocks intimately. Every storm. Every wreck. Every boat that didn’t come home.

This week we are telling the story of the lighthouse that changed all of that - and the deep, personal connection between the Eddystone and the villages of the Rame Peninsula that most people don’t know about.

Six posts. Three hundred and twenty-seven years of history. Starting here.

06/06/2026

Not every day is flat calm

03/06/2026

Beach Days are the best, when the days are so warm that there is nothing better to do than enjoy the view and relax

01/06/2026

Friday night was perfect, cheesy chips from The Halfway House Inn, Kingsand, and a glass of rose, girt beach and lovely company

31/05/2026

31/05/2026

Kingsand Clock Tower

Yesterday I wandered into the South West Artisans market in Kingsand - beautiful work, really worth a look if you haven’t been. But as I walked through I kept finding my eyes drawn to the clock tower standing there on the seafront, as it always has, taking whatever the sea throws at it.

I’ve walked past it hundreds of times. Yesterday I found myself actually wondering about it. Who built it? Why? And what’s the story behind those storms that nearly took it down?

So I did a little digging.

The clock tower was built in 1910 to mark the coronation of King George V. It’s attached to what locals call the Institute - a community hall that has been at the heart of village life ever since. Weddings, WI meetings, coffee mornings, art exhibitions. The cross-stitch tapestry of Kingsand and Cawsand inside was made by residents to mark the Queen’s Golden Jubilee.

But the site itself has an even longer story. Earlier buildings here were damaged or swept away entirely - including in violent storms in 1819. The version we see today only took its final form in 1920.

And then came February 2014. Some of the largest recorded storm waves ever to hit the south coast struck on the 4th and 5th of February, and the clock tower took a serious blow. But the urgency was doubled - more storms were already on the way. Engineers were on site within two days, and that weekend crews worked in brutal conditions to prop and stabilise the building before the next wave of weather arrived. No room for delay, no margin for error.

I know someone has posted on here before, was directly involved in saving this building. I’d love to hear from you again if you’re reading this.

And for everyone else - do you have memories of the 2014 storms? Or of the Institute itself? I have a feeling there are a lot of stories here, it would be lovely to share them.

30/05/2026

Beau liked the sun today as well ☀️

30/05/2026

Beautiful night at Cawsand Bay last night. We got a drink from the Halfway and sat and watched the evening close in