Rame Head to Portwrinkle (and St Germans)Monday 5th September 2022
It feels strange getting-up this morning, largely because I realise that the car is parked at St German’s station and that we have to walk perhaps 12 miles to collect it. However, the major bonus for us is that we don’t have to drive anywhere to get to the start of our next coastal leg. All we need to do is step out of the caravan and perhaps half a mile away is the coast path. Fortunately the weather looks good, being a mix of sunshine and cloud, although rain is expected by 12.00 and possibly thunder at 13.00.
Retracing our steps, we return down the cliff as far as Polhawn Fort where we stumble across one of those lovely artefacts from a bygone era. This one is a Boundary Stone (Number 6). Checking the c.1900 1:2500 OS map of the area, I discover that there were 8 such boundary stones marking the land occupied by Polhawn Fort. Intriguingly, no fort buildings are marked on the map – secrecy being paramount – although it couldn’t have taken much working-out to locate the fort by the location of the boundary stones which are marked “WD” (War Department) on the map.
The fort was completed in 1864 and is one of a number of ‘Napoleonic Forts’ guarding the approaches to Plymouth. In fact the Napoleonic Wars ended some 50 years earlier. They are sometimes referred to as Palmerston Follies, commissioned by Prime Minister Lord Palmerston in the 1860s to defend Plymouth from the French. Many are still used today by the MOD. This one is now in private hands and is hired out for weddings (we were royally entertained one evening in our caravan, when fireworks lit-up the night sky above us).
“Boundary Stone 6 at Polhawn Fort– marked as “BSsW^D” on the 1:2500 OS map for 1900. WD probably stands for War Department.”
OS Map photo Polhawn Fort c.1900 location: “Polhawn Fort – the Boundary Stones (BS) are clearly marked on the OS map, but the fort is obviously ‘top secret’
Polhawn Fort: “Polhawn Fort – granite blocks faced the fort, through which canons would fire salvoes at any ship attempting to land at Whitsand Bay.”
Beyond Polhawn Fort the South West Coast Path (SWCP) takes us down to some old coastguard cottages now used as holiday lets, before following the top of the cliffs overlooking Whitsand Bay. I pause to take a photograph of Polhawn Fort, with Betty in the foreground.
“Would you like me to take your photos?” A passing lady walking her dog kindly offers.
“I’m just taking a photo of the fort – not her,” I respond.
“Charming!” Says the lady and I signally fail to wriggle-out of my faut-pas.
“Thank you anyway.” I add rather unconvincingly.
Whitsand Bay is an important site for eel grass and other key biodiversity species. Eel grass is a marine angiosperm (flowering plant) which grows on a sandy substrate and provides ideal habitat for sea horses, amongst other marine animals – not least young fish. Eel grass beds are severely threatened by man, especially the anchors of boats mooring in shallow sheltered bays. The anchors and chains destroy the delicate eel grass. The Sea Fan Anemone and the Cuckoo Wrasse are other threatened biodiversity species found in this beautiful bay.
Eel grass is not only important locally, but also on a worldwide scale in the fight to mitigate against Climate Change. This widespread vegetation is credited with trapping more atmospheric CO2 than tropical rainforest.
The path eventually brings us out at a most fascinating looking settlement that appears to be masses of ‘shacks’ scattered all over the cliff side. As we pause to admire the first of these I spot a gentleman in his 70s working in the front garden.
“Are these plotland dwellings?” I ask, referring to the similar ramshackle collection of huts and cobbled-together dwellings that appeared near Basildon before and during World War Two.
“Now there’s a good story, if you have the time. Would you like to have a closer look?” He is evidently an enthusiastic story-teller and I can’t resist his excitement as we follow him into his back garden.
It transpires that they were first built in the 1920s, by dockyard workers from Devonport, who at weekends would catch the Cremyll Ferry across the Tamar and cycle to here with their tents. Before too long, they asked the then landowner (The Edgcumb Estate) if they might be allowed to build a small hut to stay in. With the owner’s permission they would carry over lumps of ‘spare’ timber ‘lifted’ from the dockyard each weekend. Before too long they had enough material to knock-together some kind of dwelling as a base for cycling excursions on the Rame Peninsula. Evidently word got around and others followed suit, with perhaps over a hundred such dwellings appearing over the next 100 years.
This whole arrangement worked-out fine on both sides, with the landowner charging only a relatively small leasehold on the land. This has come to an end, with the local council now taking-over the land ownership. It seems in these straitened times that the council are seeking ways to make more money and have decided to raise the leasehold charge by 500%. Our host (Roger) and many of his neighbours, are retired teachers who moved here as a way to stretch their pensions a little further than they might otherwise. Unsurprisingly, they are very unhappy with the new arrangement.
Cornwall does have a problem with well-heeled holiday-makers buying second homes in the county – many of which lie empty for most of the year. Younger locals in particular are unable to afford the inflated property prices this causes. Cornwall does appear to be caught in a cleft stick with this. Many out-of-county people see Cornwall as an excellent place to retire, probably having visited as holiday-makers first. Inevitably the retired become more dependent upon the state, as their health deteriorates. This must put a lot of pressure on health and care services locally, although I suspect increasing ground rents at Whitsands Bay may paradoxically make matters worse if they can’t afford the new leasehold charges, sell-up and turn to the local authority for social care and social housing provision.
The cliff path takes us up to Whitsand Bay Fort, another massive military building standing guard over the approaches to Plymouth. This one too is no-longer owned by the MOD, providing lodges, a restaurant and other holiday accommodation for visitors. From Whitsand Bay Fort the path then takes us down past further ‘chalets’ similar to Roger’s, before returning us to the Military Road at Freathy.
Many of the dwellings are substantial in size and offer themselves as holiday lets. The views out to sea are tremendous, as must be the storms over the winter months on this exposed coastline. The SWCP follows the road here for a short-while, which is narrow and a little concerning to we poor pedestrians. Thankfully a footpath appears, to give us safer passage.
A large green gate permits us access to Tregantle Fort, yet another 19th Century edifice. This one is still controlled by the MOD, its grounds being utilised as a firing range for small-arms. Thankfully the squaddies are having a day off target practice and we are able to pass through unmolested.
“Polhawn Fort and the ‘unwanted’ Betty”
“Gorgeous views across Whitsand Bay – flecks of white on the cliff-side are the many dwellings adjacent to Whitsand Bay Fort.” and “Whitsand Bay dwellings cling to the cliff-side like guillemot nesting sites.”
“Yellow toadflax – one of the last wayside flowers to appear – remind us autumn approaches.” and “Yet another fort – Tregantle Fort. This one is still used by the MOD as a firing range.”
“One of numerous firing ranges at Tregantle Fort.”
Beyond Tregantle Fort the coast path cuts across a number of fields, where we pass two couples of fellow walkers. We haven’t passed too many of these today, with most of the other people out walking appearing to be locals walking their dogs. I find this extraordinary, since I have always regarded September as being the perfect time of year for a good long walk, especially with the dry weather. Perhaps it is the relative absence of other walkers that makes it so perfect? We seem to walk in a vacuum of isolation, with all this glorious scenery to ourselves.
Then ironically we see a tall gangling figure walking in our direction. From a distance he looks like my nephew Christopher, who walks the length and breadth of the UK on his own. A quite remarkable young man who once did a sponsored walk of over 50 miles in 24 hours. I wonder what the likelihood is of us ever meeting him on one of our walks. Stranger things happen. In fact it turns-out not to be him, but the thought of coincidentally bumping into people I may know stays with me for a while. How many thousands of miles of footpaths are there in the UK? We are doing our best to cover them all, but there are still many within just 10 miles of home that we have yet to walk!
Shortly, we cross Whitsand Bay Golf Course, where we come across yet another youth, this time sitting in a golf buggy listening to music through headphones. His uniform gives him away as one of the green-keepers. In the flatbed at the back of the buggy is mix of grass seed and compost – doubtless waiting to be scattered on a bald patch on a nearby green. However, it is evident that he is not the person responsible for applying the seed and that he is waiting to be told what to do. I can clearly recall being a minion in my teens, quite content to wait for someone to tell me what to do next. How time flies. He barely acknowledges our existence, with a grunt being his only response to our “Hello”. Pass him in 10 years time and perhaps he will have joined the human race.
The path down into Portwrinkle is a we bit treacherous, but we manage it without calamity. The village is little more than a hotel and a few houses, but we do find a cafe on the seafront. Here we purchase coffees and elect to sit outside in the sunshine, though thankfully shielded from the chilling breeze. At the adjacent table are another ‘elderly’ couple and we get into conversation with them.
“Where have you walked from?” She asks.
“We have a caravan at Rame Head and walked from there this morning,” I reply, “we left our car at St German’s Station overnight, so now we have to head inland to fetch it.”
“Really? We can save you the walk if you like. We are staying at St German’s so could give you a lift.”
We decline the kind offer, since we have plenty of time to get there. We are not averse to getting a lift when really necessary, but not today. Perhaps if it was chucking-it-down or dark was falling, but the promised rain has not materialised and we have several hours before dusk.
We once thumbed a couple of lifts to get back to our car whilst doing the Coast-to-Coast Way at quite a late hour. I had missed-out on the fact that we needed to book the last bus scheduled that day, so Betty had to stand with her thumb out looking sweet and innocent. It’s actually much easier for a woman to get a lift from other women – who wouldn’t dare to pick up a male hitch-hiker. Alas this first lady took us just so-far. We therefore had to resigned ourselves to completing the last 3 miles in the dark, that was until an ambulance picked us up. You meet such lovely people out in the countryside.
Our coffees completed, our path takes us up the incredibly steep and narrow Donkey Lane to the main coast road above. I make a mental note to avoid this one when we pick-up the coast walk tomorrow.
The inland walk to St German’s is very pleasant, but the emergence of the afternoon sun eventually makes us regret declining the offer of a lift. By the time we reach St German’s our shirts are ringing wet. The car is still where we left it.
Betty is concerned that her petrol tank is not full, so we drive around looking for a petrol station. The only one we can find is at Tor Point, several miles distant. It must be a nightmare for locals ensuring that they have enough petrol to hand. I can imagine electric cars being very popular round here in years to come.
At Tor Point we sit in a small park and eat a belated packed-lunch, watching the car ferries shuttling back and forth from Cornwall to Devon. In fact the Tamar is well connected by ferries, unlike the stretch of water between Harwich and Felixstowe, where I once lived. It makes you realise how important history and geography are to coastal transport. Felixstowe is a new port, whereas Plymouth has been an important maritime settlement for hundreds of years. They have similar distances by road to their neighbours across the water. However, from Harwich to Felixstowe you really only have the option of travelling the 32 miles by car, whilst the Tor Point to Plymouth ferry is practically an A road. Ferries of one sort or another have always been the lifeblood of the South West Peninsula and doubtless will continue to be.
Left “Looking back to Tregantle Fort and Whitsand Bay, with the distinctive shape of Rame Head in the far distance (note the heavily wind-grazed trees on the left side of the photo).”
Right “Portwrinkle – something of a ‘one-horse’ town, but a very pleasant horse it is to.”
“A beautiful trackway amongst ferns and hedges on the way to St German’s.”
“The Tor Point Ferry – there are three vessels which carry over 5,000 cars between Plymouth and Tor Point daily. The alternative is a 36 mile drive.”