Falachfaen Harbour

The town of Falachfaen seems almost precariously balanced on the southern slopes of Rathmor, where terraces of cottages and winding lanes cling to the hillsides between gashes of old slate quarries. For centuries, this was a town defined by the ringing of hammers and the grinding of wagons as men cut slate from the mountainside and sent it down to the waiting boats on the coast.

The slate here was particularly prized for its dark blue-grey colour, strong yet workable, and it was exported widely across the islands. At its height in the 19th century, the Falachfaen quarries employed hundreds, the town swelling with chapels, taverns, and workers' terraces that stepped up the slopes like ledges cut into the rock.

But industry alone does not define Falachfaen. To the south-west is the Falachfaen Peninsula, now claimed by the Ministry of Defence, which since the 1930s has run a training camp and airfield across some 20,000 acres. The sound of gunfire and manoeuvres echoes where once quarrymen worked, a reminder that the land continues to serve purposes of power and endurance.

Though much reduced from its industrial peak, Falachfaen remains proud of its heritage. Visitors today find a community bound together by its history—its quarries, its narrow streets, and its resilience in the face of both man-made and natural upheaval.

Kelp gathering in Falachfaen follows a time-honoured rhythm. Farmers harvest the long fronds at low tide, cutting them in a way that encourages rapid regrowth. The seaweed is then laid out on stone terraces and wooden racks to dry in the sun and salt air. Once thoroughly dried, the kelp is burned in pit kilns, producing a dense, glassy ash known as potash. This substance, rich in minerals, has long been valued across Rathmor for its versatility and chemical properties.

Historically, potash was prized as one of the island’s most reliable fertilisers, helping to enrich the thin soils of upland farms. But Falachfaen’s product soon found its way into more specialised industries. At Talporth, the centre of the islands’ glassmaking tradition, the potash serves as a vital flux, lowering the melting point of silica and making high-quality glass production possible in the island furnaces. This relationship between the kelp farmers of the fjords and the glassworkers of Talporth has endured for over a century, with each depending on the other’s craft to maintain their livelihoods.

In more recent years, the seaweed industry has found yet another outlet in the booming cement production of Porthelan. Here, potash derived from Falachfaen kelp is used as an important ingredient in the island’s distinctive cement blend, further highlighting the material’s industrial significance.

Despite increasing demand, the people of Falachfaen have remained committed to sustainable practices. Their careful stewardship ensures that the kelp forests remain healthy and abundant, allowing future generations to continue this ancient maritime craft. Today, seaweed farming remains both a cornerstone of local culture and a quietly powerful engine of Rathmor’s interconnected industries—proof that even the humblest natural resource can shape the fortunes of an entire region.

Early seaweed harvest, Falachfaen c1850

At the heart of the complex lies a small airfield, built in 1937. Initially grass runways and a few hangars, it later expanded during the Second World War into a base for reconnaissance aircraft and training squadrons. Pilots practiced navigation over the wild Atlantic, while ground troops used the surrounding terrain for exercises in live fire, manoeuvres, and armoured warfare. The area’s isolation and rugged landscape made it an ideal proving ground.

Though the war ended long ago, the Defence Estate remains active. The airfield is now modest in scale but still in use, with training flights and joint exercises occasionally visible to curious onlookers along the coastal paths. Large swathes of moor are marked with warning signs and red flags, barring entry when training is underway. Yet at quieter times, the land is accessible to walkers, and nature has reclaimed much of it, turning firing ranges into wildflower meadows and reservoirs for wildlife.

Locals often speak with mixed feelings about the site: pride in its contribution to the islands’ defence, tempered by memories of lost homes and fields. The south-west of Rathmor thus holds a unique dual legacy—both as a symbol of sacrifice in times of conflict and as a landscape where military purpose and natural beauty now exist side by side.

D-Day training - Falachfaen Camp 1944

The Railway to Falachfaen

Bringing the railway to Falachfaen was an epic struggle against the very land itself. The southern coast of Rathmor is hemmed in by the jagged ridges of the Trevelyan Heights, leaving engineers with little choice but to push the line along a perilous cliff-hugging route along the south coast.

The scheme was begun by the Rathmor Railway (RR), the ambitious company formed around 1879 under the influence of Lord Keveren from the consolidation of several of Rathmor's earlier railways. In 1880 the company began pushing its network south from Yeyn Keveren, intending ultimately to reach the valuable slate workings and harbour at Falachfaen. The railway reached Falachor in late 1882, but the remaining route to Falachfaen proved far more difficult and expensive than its promoters had imagined.

Rockfalls buried sections of track, tunnels collapsed during excavation, and costly bridges and retaining works consumed the Rathmor Railway's finances. Then, in 1885, a fierce autumn storm destroyed or seriously damaged nearly half a mile of railway formation and works, casting it into the sea below. So many setbacks plagued the construction that locals whispered the line was cursed, and petitions were even raised to abandon the venture altogether. But the promise of opening Falachfaen to the slate trade was too great to ignore.

By 1885 the struggling Rathmor Railway had become part of the newly reorganised Glynoch & Rathmor Railway (G&R). With the merger came deeper resources, but also the considerable burden of completing the unfinished Falachfaen line. The G&R chose to persevere with the project its predecessor had begun.

After nearly a decade of hardship, engineering problems and spiralling costs, the railway was finally completed. On 27 September 1890, almost ten years after work had begun, the first G&R train steamed into Falachfaen station. The achievement was celebrated with brass bands and banners, though the weary engineers knew that every arch, cutting and embankment had been won against the mountain's resistance.

The railway transformed Falachfaen. Slate wagons now rumbled out daily, while passenger trains brought workers, traders and visitors into the once-isolated town. Born as one of the Rathmor Railway's most ambitious projects and finally completed by the G&R, the line became Falachfaen's lifeline to the wider Caerwyn Isles, carrying its famous hidden stone far beyond the southern slopes.

Crossing the Bodmin Dam c1940