Mevagissey to Porthluney Cove 13th September 2022
Up until this point in our expedition, moving along the coast has been greatly facilitated by the superb Cornish bus service, Go Bus. We should also throw in the rail service from St Germans to Plymouth and the Cremyll Ferry to Edgcumbe Country Park. However, beyond Mevagissey the number of significant settlements is greatly reduced and with it the bus service. There is no westward service connecting coastal settlements from here until Portloe. Even here the infrequent bus would only take us to St Austell, where we would then have to take another bus to return to our car at Mevagissey. That could take hours of bone-shaking ride along Cornish back roads. No thanks.
So our thinking has had to be a bit more creative. We always have the option of a circular, or even a there-and-back walk, but that would reduce our mileage, leaving us short of time to finish at St Mawes by the end of the week. So we hatch a plan to start at Gorran Churchtown and catch the 9.49 bus to Mevagissey. This would then enable us to follow the coast path as far as Porthluney Cove, followed by a road walk back to the car.
“One of the many ‘opes’ which demand exploration in Mevagissey.”
We arrive at Goran Churchtown by 8.30, just in case parking is an issue and we have to resort to plan B (but there is no plan B!). The joys of the Internet have enabled me to check the roads around Gorran Churchtown and identify potential parking places using Street View. However, it is not long before we realise we can park in what we take to be the pub car park, giving us time to do a bit of bread shopping at the local post office and then kill time at the church – if only to find a place to escape the rain that has just started falling.
“Local tourist map for St. Goran – with our walking and bus journey added.”
Betty is pleased to find that the church has a book of remembrance dedicated to Queen Elizabeth II who has just passed-away. It makes her feel good to express her appreciation to the old lady and starts the day off with a good vibe.
The bus arrives bang on time and we are in Mevagissey by 10.15. What is more, we don’t have to pay the £10 parking fee due, had we started the day from here! The rain has dispersed by now and it is a pleasant stroll into town with the sun on our faces.
As ever, our experience of the town feels so different from yesterday afternoon’s, as it opens sleepy eyes and wakes to a new day. The tourists have yet to arrive, so the streets are deserted and quiet as we look into the shops. I am a sucker for an ope and can’t resist exploring one of these narrow back alleys squeezed between two fishermen’s cottages. Behind the facade of these old cottages I find an area of modern, affordable housing for the locals – who keep the wheels of the tourist and fishing industry turning through a Cornwall fraught with housing issues.
“A hidden residential area of Mevagissey. Of little interest to tourists but ideally affordable for the locals.”
From the quay where yesterday I watched knots, wagtails and herring gulls foraging for food, we follow the road taking us along the south side of the harbour to Stuckumb Point, where we gaze in tranquil appreciation across the harbour full of bobbing boats, before climbing the iron steps up the cliff side to where the view of the harbour and village is if anything even more spectacular. Looking back through the town and up the valley beyond, I can just make-out Heligan Mill where the Tremayne family built a large house and ornamental gardens over a 300 year period. Then their work was suddenly interrupted in 1914 – when most of the staff marched off to war and never returned. The house was turned into flats and the gardens were abandoned to brambles – that is until they were rediscovered in 1996. Over the last 26 years the Lost Gardens of Heligan have been carefully brought back to life and are now a major Cornish tourist attraction.
“If anything, the view from the top is even better – giving a real appreciation of this lovely little village and The Lost Gardens of Heligan beyond.”
The walk south takes us to Portmellon Cove, past the sort of large houses occupied by those with a few bob to spare, before we wend our way down to the sea wall below to look more closely at the foamy channel waters. The tide is high and the onshore wind lashes waves up against its clean, white new concrete.
“Portmellon Cove – a tranquil bay, which on closer inspection reveals a number of suspicious corpses!”
The ‘mystery of the dead gannets’ resumes when we see a living individual bobbing on the wave-strewn waters not 50 metres from the shore. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a gannet sitting on the water before. It is not what they do and certainly not this close to shore. Some duck species will sit awhile before up-ending and dabbling in the shallows, tufted ducks and cormorants will surface dive, but gannet feeding strategy is to launch themselves from scores of metres above the water and grab a fish – almost certainly further offshore, in much deeper water. This one is almost moribund as the waves toss it closer and closer to the beach. We know that the problem is bird flu, but to watch a living bird being helplessly washed shoreward is quite distressing.
A little further round the cove is a mass of floating seaweed, just a little way out in the cove. Amongst this flotsam it is possible to make-out further floating bodies of long-dead gannets. All will be left on the strand-line at the next high tide. Reading about the problem in the local press or on TV is sad enough, but to witness the events leading up to their inevitable discovery on the beach is much more poignant.
“Collection of floating seaweed and at least 3 gannet corpses amongst it.”
Ironically, a robin kicks off with its unmistakable song, perhaps piping some sort of requiem to its cousins lost at sea. Nature is red in tooth and claw, but no less so when the perpetrator is a virus. I am reminded of the inevitability of life’s cycles and that the robins will soon be feeding their next generation. And so it continues.
Passing one large house, a couple of caterers are in the process of moving large platters of sandwiches and cakes. I can’t resist commenting.
“ Looks like a special delivery.”
“Leftovers from a party last night.”
“Really. Any left for me?” I venture.
“Have some scones.” He says, calling my bluff.
The greedy little boy within the man is tempted, but I feel too old to play that particular card and back-down. In hindsight it is never a good idea to eat someone else’s leftovers – especially from the day before. The caution of my elderly wisdom trumps the naive impulsiveness of my youth. Besides Monty Python’s ‘Gannet on a Stick’ sketch is ringing in my head and I don’t really feel like eating anything. It is just greed. The food will doubtless go to waste, when with a little bit of thought it could have been put in a fridge and finished by the party host and guests for their lunch. In a world where man is destroying nature to grow more food, consumption of it should always be done responsibly.
The sun has now made its full entry into the day and it is getting distinctly humid. Layers of waterproofs are ripped off and we get down to short sleeves and shorts. We had feared a South-West of England soaking when we planned this expedition, but for the most part it has been dry and far from cold. We always chose to walk in September and May, with both months never failing us in the 14 years we’ve been walking together through Snowdonia, The Lake District, The Isle of Arran, The Trossachs, The Isle of Skye and South West England. Are we just lucky with the weather or smart with our timing? Check the Internet: https://climateknowledgeportal.worldbank.org/country/united-kingdom/climate-data-historical
We turn off the road towards Colona Beach and engage with a couple of chaps walking eastward along the South West Coast Path. They tell us that they started at Falmouth a couple a day ago and aim to reach Plymouth within a week. They are stopping in AirBnBs, putting in 20 mile daily walks. At least they don’t have to concern themselves with the vagaries of public transport. Whether or not I could physically manage 120 miles in a week, my preference is to reduce the mileage and savour the moments. Easy said of course, when you are a ‘man of independent means’, who’s holidays are not limited to a single week. The joys of a healthy body after retirement are not to be taken for granted.
We warn them about our pathfinding difficulties near Charlestown, where their next BnB is scheduled. They are appreciative of the warning and I realise that we are part of the ‘coast path telegraph’ that operates and the brief camaraderie that exists between long distance walkers.
A collection of white-painted buildings huddle together on the exposed headland of Chapel Point. It went for sale in 2015 for £3 million and comes with its own piece of literary history, having been the setting for Daphne du Maurier’s “The House on the Strand” (she was quite a busy lady writing along this coastline). Three massive pine trees dominate the buildings, doubtless giving valuable cover from winter storms – as long as they don’t fall over of course.
“Chapel Point House dominated by 3 massive dome-crowned pine trees (£3 million price tag in 2015)
We get our first glimpse of a Cornish Atlantic Grey Seal dozing as it floats off Colona Beach. I shout to it and get a brief reaction, before it returns to dreams about chasing shoals of fishes. Despite it being our first sighting of a seal, the UK is home to 1/3rd of the world’s grey seals, with a lot of them in Cornwall. They are however, shy secretive animals – so are not so often seen. Sadly they are easily spooked, especially when they come ashore, by inquisitive tourists sailing, swimming or just clambering on rocks close to where they are basking. This easily disturbs them and can lead to them putting on insufficient weight to get through the winter, especially the pregnant females.
We get our first sight of the village of Gorran Haven from Turbot Point. It is dwarfed by steep cliffs either side of it, which offer relatively secluded naturist bathing on the beaches below. However, I’m much more interested in being a naturalist and I can see that the cliffs to the north of the village appear to support dense woodland on their steep slopes. It may well be that these inaccessible woods are a remnant of temperate rainforest. This vegetation type used to occur along the whole of the western side of the UK, which is still a major stronghold despite us having lost most of it, especially over the last 70 years. I recommend Guy Shrubsole’s book “ The Lost Rainforests of Britain” as a good read, if you are interested.
“The village of Gorran Haven flanked by steep cliffs.”
Walking along the clifftop we get close to the top end of the woodland. Here it appears to be mostly hawthorn scrub. However, this provides an important nursery for young saplings of larger species of tree to start their lives, safe from deer, rabbit and sheep grazing. Dense cliff-side woodland is not the sort of place to go for a family walk, but ideal habitat for all-manner of birds and other wildlife.
Gorran Haven is a charming little isolated Cornish village. These brief interludes of human habitation break up the miles of sea views along this coast. It must have one of the smallest churches you are likely to find in the UK. Built in the 15th Century, it was used as a fish cellar in the 18th Century, before being restored in the 19th Century for followers of the ‘fisher-of-men’.
Within 5 minutes we have drunk our fill of the village and are walking the cliff tops once again, with our sights set firmly on Dodman Point and its large granite cross, which lies a mile or two south-west of Goran Haven. As we leave Goran Haven there is a definite threat of rain in the air and we pull on our Kags. We are not alone in identifying this risk, as an elderly couple dressed for sunshine scurry past us, heading for the shelter of the village. Wise tourists always carry a waterproof in Cornwall!
It turns out to be a false alarm, but always “better safe than sorry” with Cornish weather
“Hawthorn scrub dominates the steep cliffs to the north of Gorran Haven”
“St Just Church Gorran Haven – once used as a fish cellar.”
Passing Cadythew Rock at the Northeastern end of Bow Beach we get our first view of Dodman Point. The beach can be accessed from here, but nowhere else further along, so we elect to stay on the cliff path despite the inviting sands below.
As with other headlands in Cornwall, significant remnants of woodland cling to the steep cliffs of Dodman Point, which like Rame Head is visible from large sections of the Cornish coast. Light rain breaks out and we again pull on cags for a while.
At Dodman Point, owned by the National Trust, one of their information signs informs us that a giant granite cross was erected by the Vicar of Caerhayes in 1896 as a navigational aid. I suspect the wider story was that many-a-mariner’s body was washed-up on the rocks and beaches here, from shipwrecks. Being in the business of saving souls his conscience would probably have told him he had to do something about it. Perhaps he was a man of some means, since ordinary folk would not have had the money to find for such a venture. I don’t know how successful it was at reducing shipwrecks, but it did not help the Darlwyne, a 45 foot pleasure cruiser with 23 adults and 8 children on board. This sank in 1966, the day after England won the World Cup, so went virtually unnoticed in the national press. It’s whereabouts remained a mystery until 2016, when divers discovered it off Dodman Pont.
“The broad sweep of Bow Beach terminates against the impressive bulk of Dodman Point.”
“Dodman (Deadman) Point and its granite cross, with one of the living variety added for scale.”
Dodman (or Deadman) Point was an Iron Age hill fort, as so many headlands were along this rugged coastline. It has certainly been a major landmark for mariners and gets mention in the well-known sea shanty “Spanish Ladies”.
“So the first land we made, it is called the Deadman,
Next Rame Head off Plymouth, Start, Portland and the Wight.
We sailed by Beachy, by Fairly (Fairlight) and Dungeness
And bore away for the South Foreland light.”
This verse reads like a reprise (in reverse) of our ‘legging’ along the whole of the south coast of England, many of the headlands mentioned appearing in previous expeditions.
The same National Trust sign informs us that their Dexter cattle, accompanied by Dartmoor and Shetland ponies, have been gainfully employed controlling invasive scrub on the cliff-top. This conservation work may well be reversed in years to come, now that the importance of scrub is being reviewed. In the conservation business, as elsewhere, opinions can change as new research and thinking reveal previous management techniques to be based upon flawed thinking. I suspect scrub got a bad name because it invaded wild-flower rich grassland. In fact both habitats are important for biodiversity. Decisions, decisions!
Pausing for lunch is always a good idea whenever you get a break in inclement weather. This proves to be wise, since our repast is soon cut-short when further drizzle threatens, with Gull Rock across the other side of Veryan Bay now enveloped in low cloud.
Hemmick Beach, breifly brings us back to tarmac before once again we are cliff-top walking round Lambsowden Cove. This proves to be the most treacherous part of the walk so far, with rocks made slippery from the rain and an absence of steps. We do our good deed for the day when we pass on our hard-earned knowledge to an elderly couple coming the other way.
As we drop down through sycamore woodland we are regaled by strange orange fungi before we finally we get sight of Caerhayes Castle and Porthluney Cove. From here a footpath takes us up to a tarmac road at Tregavarras, past Boswinger and then back to Gorran Churchtown.
An on-off weather day, but its all part of “Legging round Britain” I suppose!
“Hemmick Beach offers rare contact with a single dwelling.”
“Caerhayes Castle