A simple wire fence is bolstered by wooden inserts which prove to be the knotted tendrils of ivy creepers and strange, femur-like sections of a giant bamboo. Along green tunnels cut through the woodland and past the curious improvisations and repairs often encountered in the countryside. As the landscape becomes more rural, the houses become larger and the distance between neighbours greater. Later, I travel as near as is possible by public transport, then leave the main road on foot to access the maze of country lanes and footpaths that ascend through woodland over a mile or two, through to the quarry at the top of the hill. All of these factors present Drakelands as an ever more attractive destination.

The location is further than easy walking distance from the city, beyond the range of public transport and deep into the network of the sunken green country lanes that characterise the South West. He provides a few clues about how I might get there and what to look for on the way, such as red wool, various forking paths and a decommissioned post box. Or rather, Drakelands lies just off the map. Phil cheerfully envisions bringing a refreshing gin and tonic to enjoy on the weed choked patio.Īfter the walk, back at Labyrinth HQ, Phil shows me where Drakelands lies on a map criss-crossed with a network of red wool, which represents key locations in the wider Labyrinth. The friend is also useful in case you fall through the floor / get stuck somewhere / get caught by security. These environments can inspire thoughts and feelings of time change, decay and impermanence and as such is best done with a friend, although in this case I didn’t. Access to the houses is usually just a case of simply hopping over a fence and urban (or rural) explorers can have the disorienting but worthwhile experience of being in a pleasant domestic environment gone to ruin. A cluster of homes known as Drakelands (after the local Elizabethan explorer) now stand sealed up, their rose gardens and flower-potted patios now grown over with wilder flora.The company closed after a few years’ extracting tin and tungsten, leaving behind a devastated landscape and scarred community. During the walk, Phil references an earlier excursion he and Helen had made to an abandoned rural village on the outskirts of Plymouth large, modern homes that were bought out and emptied when the mining company Wolf Minerals reopened the quarry after a long period of disuse.

On Walking by Phil Smith