Polperro to Polruan 8th September 2022

We are up pretty early today and make it to Polperro by 09.30am.  In fact we decide against parking at the vast and overpriced Polperro car park.  Instead we leave the car at Killigarth, a modern housing estate which sits atop a hill overlooking the village.  It is no great hardship finding our way down Talland Hill, a steep and narrow road unsuited to traffic, to Polperro.

Normally we like to get the return trip by public transport out of the way in the morning, just in case there is an issue with it later in the day.  On this occasion we have little choice, since buses from Polruan to Polperro are so infrequent.  Fingers crossed eh?

This time the village presents a quite different set of views and ambiance.  It is relatively early in the morning, with ‘Bert Foord’s Rule’ (dry days are invariably followed by wet) ensuring that the normal holiday crowds are much reduced.  Further, the tide is now out, with all the previously bobbing little fishing boats firmly pressed by gravity to the pebbles of the harbour.  We are a little wary about today’s walk, since thunder and lightning are forecast.  Cliff tops are not the best place to find yourself in the midst of one of these weather events.  For now it is just heavy showers, which we can avoid by hiding in shop doorways.

“Low tide and wet weather combine to give Polperro harbour a quite different ambiance to yesterday’s”

Walking through Polperro it is evident that whitewash is de-rigueur on all houses.  This gives the village a jolly ‘seaside’ feel everywhere.  The other popular building aesthetic is the parallel-lined render applied to a large number of buildings.  You can’t help but feel that the local authority insists on this style, with the work done by just one particular builder.  It gives the village a uniformity that does not sit well with the individuality of the building styles.  Regimentation and Cornish coastal villages are an obvious contradiction in terms.

The downpour passed, we decide to speed through the village and back to the cliff path.  The morning is dominated by us looking out to sea, anticipating where the next squall might make landfall – not that we can do much about it.  At least forewarned is forearmed and we might be able to take shelter, or don waterproofs in a more timely fashion than we did walking from Portwrinkle to Looe.

The cliffs are less up-and-down than yesterday, with the coast path presenting us with relatively level walking for most of the morning.  We pass a couple coming the other way and briefly indulge in a spot of weather discussion before moving on.  

Despite it being late in the season many of the summer flowers are still evident and over the next couple of hours I record the following still in bloom:

Saw-wort, Bladder-campion, Betony, Wild carrot, Red campion, Greater bindweed, Honeysuckle, 

Catsear, Mullein, Ivy, Ribwort plantain, Yellow toadflax, Red clover, Violet, Common daisy, Wild thyme, Lesser knapweed, Viper’s bugloss.

The coast along here is every bit as impressive and rugged as seen earlier in the week, but the unpredictable nature of the weather means that we press-on at a much greater pace.  We eventually come across an obelisk which appears to serve no obvious purpose until I consult the OS map.  This section of the coast has no distinct coastal features, no headlands, no bays and no villages.  The obelisk is marked on the map as “landmark”, having been put in place I suspect for the benefit of inshore fishermen, perhaps trying to navigate their way to locate their lobster pots.  It would also be an obvious feature if you were in trouble and needed rescuing.

“This ‘cleopatra’s needle’ appears to have no obvious purpose, other than as a navigation aid for seafarers.” 

The weather ahead continues to look threatening as we are enveloped by occasional bouts of drizzle, whilst out at sea a small coaster rides the waves and looks like it might be awaiting a mooring at Fowey.  

At East Coombe we share a brief conversation with another couple of intrepid walkers with big smiles on their faces.  They appear to be taking the weather in their stride.  One of them looks and even sounds like a friend of mine.  Why does everyone look so familiar on the South West Coast Path?

At Lansallos Bay we discover there is a pub, but alas it is half-a-mile away in Lansillas village, on top of the cliffs.  By now we are starting to feel hungry and agree to stop at the next bench.

With food in-mind we pass a small group of ponies press-ganged into eating their way through acres of invasive gorse scrub.  They show little interest in us, as they ruminate with their backs to the wind and rain.  There is no shortage of manure on the coast path – so gardeners should be sure to bring a shovel.

“Three ruminating ponies, backs to the wind and rain, show little interest in passing walkers.” 

Despite the inclement weather the gulls are busy at work offshore and we get our first glimpse of a live gannet in Lantivet Bay.

Approaching Pencarrow Head Betty spots a couple of walkers walking some 400 metres behind us.  This is a rare phenomenon in our experience.  Generally the only people we ever come into contact with are those coming the other way.  Almost immediately we pass a family group and then a man with his dog – both have probably parked in car parks at Lansallos village, or at the one on the cliff-top road to Polruan.  It reminds me that there is more to walking in Cornwall than just the coast path.  I suspect that there is a risk of wearing blinkers on these long-distance walks and missing the rest of the local area

With that thought in mind we decide to stop and have lunch at a suitably placed bench, on top of Pencarrow Head.  No sooner have I got my cheese and pickle sandwiches out then it starts to rain and we have to pack it all away and tog-up.

By now the pursuing walkers have caught-up with us.  But for the rain they would have breezed past us as we dined. So we are thankful when they stride ahead at a faster rate than we.  However, pretty soon the rain gets heavier and they decide to shelter under a tree.  My immediate thought is to join them in their nice dry niche.  Betty however, prefers to press-on, perhaps not wanting to get caught-up in awkward conversation with two strangers.  So we give them a cheery wave and press-on.

Everything is back to how it was, with them walking perhaps 400 metres in our wake.  The problem is that they are evidently speed-walkers, whilst we perpetually pause to take photographs, examine things of interest and even make notes for our blog.

Inevitably we pause when we spot a small herd of cows following the example of the ponies encountered earlier – chewing the cud, backs to the wind and looking dreamily into the distance thinking about who-knows-what?

This is too good a moment to miss and we pause to catch the moment on camera. There is then a moment of uncertainty between us and the following couple.  They are probably thinking that they don’t want to be walking with us any more than we with them.  They solve the impasse by pretending to stand and look at the scenery as we walk on.

“Lansallos Cutting – made by farmers looking to collect seaweed from the beach at Llansallos Bay”

However, there is only so much time anyone wants to spend looking at the scenery when it is raining, so in the end they decide to follow – about 200 metres behind us.  Now its getting a bit silly, as they once again start to catch us.  At the next gate I stop and hold the gate open for them to pass through.

“We are going straight-ahead.”  I explain, pointing up the hill, leaving them to turn left down the coast-path.

As they march off down towards Lantic Bay I realise that I have made a miscalculation and we need to be following their chosen path.  My head is whirling with stupid thoughts.  Will they think we don’t know where we are going?  They must think I can’t read a map.  Do they think we are just following them?  In the end we follow them but along a parallel path slightly higher-up the cliff.

They are striding so fast that they disappear out of sight and I can relax again.  Who said walking is all about relaxation?

Half an hour later the rain returns as we start to climb a long flight of steps at the western end of Lantic Bay.  As we climb, Betty complains about her calves starting to tighten-up.  Hopefully it is nothing serious, not least because we have another 5 or 6 days of walking ahead of us.  By the time we reach the top the rain abates and we are so hungry that we decide to give-up on finding another bench to sit on.  One miraculously appears and we eat lunch in relative comfort.  The break also gives Betty time to find ‘the ladies’.  

On her return she says to me “Have a look over there,” pointing to a nearby gorse bush she has just been inspecting.  Low-and-behold it is another gannet corpse.  That’s three in as many days – three dead to one live one.  What is going on – causing largely offshore birds to drop dead on cliff-tops?

“Betty makes the best of some pretty unpredictable weather”

“Lantic Bay offers one of Cornwall’s more isolated beaches – no takers in this weather though.”

“Even those with thick leather hides look for shelter.”

“Yet another dead – the plot thickens!”

The rest gives a bit of respite to Betty’s calves and fortunately there is to be no further climbing today.  It is lucky that tomorrow is scheduled to be a caravan moving day, hopefully giving ample time for her legs to recover.

As we approach Polruan we observe the changing nature of the weather offshore.  Scattered squalls appear on the horizon, some of which head towards us only to veer-off either side of where we are walking.  Only a mile away, the coaster is one minute bathed in bright sunlight, only to be enveloped in cloud a few minutes later.  Our cliff-top view-point gives us a unique appreciation of how quickly weather can change in the UK, especially along the coast.

“A moored coaster is dwarfed by the sea and the sky”

“4 minutes later the coaster is swallowed-up by cloud”

“8 minutes later the sun breaks through, but there is more rain on the horizon”

It is not long before we are overlooking the calm waters of the Fowey estuary, Fowey itself, on the far bank and the village of Polruan on our side.  The promontory above is home to a modern Coastwatch observation post and the ruins of a former chapel (St Saviours) – both it seems focussed on saving souls at sea. 

“All looks tranquil in the haven of the Fowey estuary”

Before dropping down to Polruan, we pause to examine Polruan Castle which dates back to 1540, being one of Henry VIII’s innovations built to protect Fowey harbour from attack by the French.  At one time a large chain was stretched across the mouth of the river to prevent passage by attacking men-of-war.  From one of the arrow slits of the castle I get a photo of the tug-boat Morgawr departing.

The walk down to the quay at Polruan takes us past an old stone chapel.  It transpires that Raynor Wynne wrote “The Salt Path” in a small apartment behind this chapel, after they had finished walking the whole of the South West Coast Path several years ago.  Perhaps some of her stardust will rub-off on me and turn me into a best-selling writer.  Do pigs fly?

“The ruins of St Saviours Chapel and the modern day Coastwatch – both dedicated to saving souls at sea.”

Polruan turns-out to be a small and beautifully formed coastal settlement.  Unlike its much bigger neighbour, Fowey, it is not really a tourist honeypot.  Polruan is the kind of place you might chose to live – away from all the marauding tourists, get to know everyone-else’s business – and even perhaps write your memoirs.

We arrive in plenty of time for our bus back to Polperro, so we have a look around the village – it takes about 5 minutes.  As we stand on the Old Coal Wharf an enormous tanker enters Fowey Harbour.  It is escorted by the tug-boat we saw earlier and we realise that this vessel, which dwarfs the houses on the far bank, is the apparently small vessel we had been watching from the cliff-top.  Scale, especially when compared to the sea and the sky, can be a confusing phenomenon to come to terms with.  OK, it’s not a supertanker, but non-the-less a big vessel to squeeze up the tight bends of the River Fowey.

“Tug-boat Morgawr leaves the Fowey to collect the anchored coaster”

“Polruan Castle“

“The old chapel where Raynor Wynne wrote “The Salt Path.”

“Business conducted in Polruan is of interest to everyone – especially the man with the camera. ”

“ The Old Coal Wharf Polruan.”

“Coaster ‘Vertum’ is guided up the Fowey by tug-boat Morgawr (aft-port)”

We still have an hour or so to kill.  There is a nice bench next to where the bus turns and the weather looks set fair for the rest of the afternoon.  So we sit and watch the world go by in Polruan.  This gives us an excellent insight into village life and some of the challenges faced by modern day transport along streets created several hundred years earlier.

As we take our seats I notice a large white Peugeot van parked opposite.  It looks like a permanent feature of the street.

Next to arrive is a Tesco delivery van which parks at the bottom of Fore Street, the main road that descends a steep hill to the quay.  He parks on the corner of East Street, but evidently has a long walk to whatever address his delivery is for. 

Various cars drive down to the bottom of Fore Street blissfully unaware that a bottle-neck awaits them at the end.  Watching drivers negotiate this tight space is fascinating – as they execute multiple-point turns in front of us.

Soon a large grey estate car attempts to turn down West Street, which is so narrow that he decides against it.  The occupants are evidently staying in a holiday let and have been shopping for food.  They spend the next 15 minutes ferrying their purchases to wherever their holiday home is located, probably several hundred metres away.  I wonder if they realised how difficult access would be when they made their booking.

A large delivery van then appears and manages to negotiate the slope down to the quayside, where the pub awaits his delivery of food.  His is quite an easy task since the quayside is clear of traffic and he can quickly turn round there, before leaving up Fore Street.

As the hour progresses other cars come down the street, with some having to reverse all the way back up.  Somebody fetches the driver of the Peugeot van and after much discussion he decides to take his van away up the hill, where it is less likely to be pranged.

This whole performance of comings-and-goings looks set to reach its climax at 4.20pm when the service bus is due to arrive.  Some of the drivers and their passengers look a bit fraught, especially as by now there is an audience of perhaps 10 people waiting for the bus to Looe.  We are all lapping-up the entertainment, but you can feel the tension in the air, as the show unfolds.

To add to it all, I shout.  “You know the service bus is due in 5 minutes don’t you?”

The Tesco van saves the day, escaping up Fore Street just before the service bus arrives.  However, the bus driver is no hurry to depart, being a man in his 80s and familiar to just about everyone in the village.   Betty is most intrigued by his baggy shorts and his ‘choppy’ haircut, which he almost certainly does himself, judging by the tufty bits of longer ‘hacked’ hair that project from his scalp at random.

We eventually depart a good 10 minutes late, but nothing happens in a hurry in Polruan it seems.  That is until our veteran driver herds us into his chariot and accelerates at an alarming speed up Fore Street, honking his horn at various of his mates that we chance to pass.

Three elderly holiday-makers get off at the top of the hill, too infirm to make the 400 metre climb on foot.  Their whole holiday stay in Polruan must be timed to fit in with this one service bus and its 80 year-old driver.

“Betty waits for the bus, ready to enjoy the ‘Polruan Parking Panto’.”

The 40 minute bus ride to Polperro is probably the most eye-opening I have ever experienced (bear in mind that I worked as a bus conductor on Derby City Transport for 18 months back in the 1970s). His average speed must have exceeded 40 mph down lanes barely wide enough for the bus to pass along.  Whenever an oncoming car is encountered, he slams on the breaks and reverses at pace to a suitable space, to allow the oncoming car to pass.  Over the years, he has obviously worked-out that this is much quicker than waiting for the other driver to give way. 

As we approach Polperro, this ancient wag of a driver shouts down the bus “Any takers for sunny Polperro?”  On getting no answer he continues with, “don’t blame you.”  

He apparently does not work for the Cornish Tourist Board.  Finally as we arrive at Killigarth, we indicate where we wish to alight – at Carey Park.

Quick as a flash he quips “Scary Park – are you sure?”

We thank him for his service and he blasts off down the road, leaving us to return to our car for a nice sedate drive back to our caravan.

Anyone taking a holiday in Cornwall must make good use of the bus service.  It may have you pulling your hair out, you may miss a few vital connections, but entertainment is guaranteed.

“Gridlock in Polruan”

“Narrow Cornish Lanes present no problems for bus driving.”