West Looe to Polperro 7th September 2022

“Looe Harbour/Looe River – looking out to sea from West Looe.”

Today was scheduled to be a rest day, but the weather looks to good to waste – especially as the forecast for later in the week is not so good. “Gather rosebuds while you may”, “Make hay whilst the sun shines” and “If it’s fine on a Saturday, go out for the day – ’cause in the UK you can guarantee it will rain on Sunday”. I don’t know who wrote the first two sayings, but the last quote was from Bert Foord – a 1960s BBC weather man and he certainly knew his onions (especially those that rely on regular rainfall).

So we rock-up at Polperro by 12pm and catch the bus to Looe, where we intend to pick-up our trail. We walk down the west side of the Looe River as far as Hannafore.

Across the river a tractor is busy removing an overnight accumulation of seaweed. One day the UK public’s sensibilities will change and we’ll stop fighting nature – just to have a clear bit of sand to lie on. If the kids want to make sand castles, then let them (and their parents) clear a space. They’ll be fascinated by what they turn-up in the strand-line (although perhaps a dead gannet may be a step too far for most!).

Out in the bay a small inflatable boat takes 3 well-equipped crew out into the bay, whereupon one of them ‘falls’ overboard. Instantly another inflatable surges-out from the Looe River crammed with similarly equipped crew members. Within 5 minutes the ‘man-over-board’ has been rescued and they all return to repeat the exercise. It must be RNLI inshore rescue training in action.

Excellent views (up and down the river) show the central importance of the Looe River to the geography of the town, which is divided in two by it. The steep hillsides provide vertiginous vantage points for residents and tourists alike.

“Looking inland up the Looe River.”

A little further along, a memorial has been sculpted of Nelson the one-eyed Atlantic Grey Seal. I imagine he didn’t sit for the artist – but perhaps they had lots of photos of him (or similar looking grey seals).

“Nelson the one-eyed Atlantic Grey Seal – captured in bronze.”

Our route leaves the riverside and turns right following the shoreline. We are walking along the road at this point, with excellent views of the sea. We elect not to drop down to beach level, although the rocky shore and clear water look like a fascinating place to explore.

We come to an interpretative board for Looe Island. Initially I misread it as Love Island, but I think that’s more Caribbean in its location. Looe Island is probably much more interesting, so perhaps I’ll spend an intimate night there with Betty one day. Managed by the Cornwall Wildlife Trust, you can only visit Looe Island on guided walks run by the trust.

From Hannafore, it is possible to clearly see which direction the prevailing winds come from – the west side. The lack of trees here is because the salt-laden wind truncates any growth by killing young leaf buds. By contrast, the sheltered east side of the island supports a rich woodland community.

Checking their web site I realise that the only residents of Looe Island are Claire and her partner Jon – the island conservation wardens (I suspect all similarities with Love Island stop there). You can follow Claire’s progress on their web site and blog. https://www.cornwallwildlifetrust.org.uk/explore/visit-looe-island

The grey pound is prevalent along the prom at Hannafore, whereas the beach and shopping attractions at East Looe were patronised by a younger demographic. Even somewhere as small as Looe appears to have a form of voluntary segregation.

“Views across to East Looe, the beach and Mount Ararat.”

Passing through a kissing-gate, we enter a grassy field and leave the doddering grey pound behind us. Perhaps we’ll graduate to their ‘thing’ one day, but for now we are happy to be striding along the cliff-tops in the direction of Polperro. The walking is pretty level along a break in the slope which suggests that this was once a beach when sea levels were 10 or 20 metres higher than they are at present (readers of this blog in the 22^nd Century will probably find that the former sea level has now been restored).

“Looe Island showing the contrast between east and west vegetation on the island.”

“Evidence of a level ‘notch’ or raised beach running perpendicular to the cliff slope.”

It is not long before the up and down nature of the Cornish coast is restored. Until now the walking has not been too sweaty, but that changes as we climb up 77 steps.

“Sweaty Betty climbing the first of the day’s flights of steps – that smile won’t last long!”

This continues, as we climb 50 metres or more from one small valley to the next. Anyone who has walked the South Devon equivalent path will tell you that similar climbs there top 100 metres, before descending back to sea level. We keep ourselves in good spirits however, joking to a passing couple at the top of one climb “I can’t understand why the walking slows as we get higher”.

“The descent can be just as tiring, with the prospect of more climbs ahead.”

At least the weather is dry, although gathering clouds suggest that we might be in for a change.

Looking back across to Looe Island I notice a parallel-sided cleft in the cliff (see photo below). The sides are so even that it looks almost man-made. I suspect it was formed millions of years ago by hot igneous lava being injected into the ‘country rock’. Usually an igneous dyke is left behind, jutting out from the softer surrounding rocks. I guess in this instance the dyke rock was softer than the surrounding rock and therefore eroded by the sea – leaving the cleft.

Another erosive feature presents itself a little further on. Aesop’s Bed is a flat-topped rock which projects from the beach below (see photo below). It has been suggested that the name is a corruption of the Hebrew ‘Yesu’, or Jesus. Local legend has it that the young Jesus came to Britain with Joseph of Arimathea, and that they landed at Looe. Joseph was believed to be a tin trader.

The legend has some basis in fact, since the local tin mining trade had links with the Middle East at that time, whilst an amphora of the right age and of Mediterranean origin has been found on Looe Island.

As I am taking a photo of Aesop’s Bed I hear a sudden cry from behind me. Thinking Betty is in trouble I race back, only to discover she was spooked by 4 herring-gulls arguing over some food. She has a fear of feathered flying creatures. Perhaps she anticipates one day herself being a morsel of food to be fought-over?

“Aesop’s Bed – legend has it Jesus landed here in his youth.”

The beach at Talland presents us with a couple of interesting bits of detective work. The geology is striking, with the normally reddish coloured rocks interbedded with much paler beds. The rusty red bedrock would have originally been sedimentary in origin, laid-down in dry, desert conditions. The paler beds suggest a more marine (oxygen poor) origin – with any iron within not oxidising to the rusty (ferrous) state of the adjacent beds. The whole lot would then have been buried deep below the surface, metamorphosed and twisted to near vertical before being exposed millions of years later in the cliffs.

“Talland beach has striking geology.”

A gannet, added to the one spotted on the beach at Seaton, starts me wondering about the cause. Coincidence or something more sinister perhaps?

“Another dead gannet! Could this be ‘Evil Under the Sun?’ I can feel an Agatha Christie murder mystery coming on.”

“Eroded dyke leaves a parallel-sided cleft in the cliff.”

Like many Cornish bays, Talland Bay was once a busy smugglers cove. The South West Coast Path web site informs me that the vicar of Talland during the nineteenth-century, danced around the graveyard at night ‘exorcising ghosts’ to keep people away – so that the smugglers could hide their haul in the church. Doubtless a case of “Brandy for the Parson, baccy for the Clerk ….. Watch the wall my darling as the Gentlemen go by.”

There is a cafe at Talland Bay, with a pleasant outside eating area facing the beach, but without any sign of either brandy or ‘baccy’ we march through and up the cliffs on the far side. Here the OS map suggests we follow the road for a while, but the footpath around the headland looks perfectly passable so we digress from the official line.

“Looking back towards Talland Bay, with Talland Church and village amongst the trees, on the hill-top.”

Two small boys come down the path towards us and I flash them a smile and a cheer “Hi.” They fail to respond to wrapped-up in their joint sulk. I suspect some form of sibling disagreement has preceded our arrival. One minute later a couple in their early 40s, with a baby, follow them. I have no doubt there is a story attached, since they too look distinctly out-of-sorts.

I could doubtless write a pretty accurate account of what transpired earlier, simply based upon my own experiences as a child, father and grandfather. What family hasn’t experienced brothers who won’t get-on, the demands of a baby in a buggy and perhaps all the baggage associated with coming to terms with the change in the family dynamic. Did the parent’s sleep last night? Is their relationship going through a rocky spell? Do the older kids feel neglected in the face of the new arrival? Perhaps they thought a day-out would be good for them all. Maybe it wasn’t!

As we walk we intersect with countless other people living their own stories and ignorant of our own. That’s how it should be. However, hopefully they’ll look back on their holiday in years to come and remember Polperro, Talland and the South West Coast Path with fondness. I doubt they’ll remember the old geezer and his wife, who smiled and said “Hi”. Billy and Betty remember you though. Hopefully you too will try the coast path again sometime.

A granite war memorial presents itself alongside the cliff path and we pause for a few seconds to read the dedication. How many thousands of similar one are dotted all over the British Isles? Far too many.

“The war memorial commemorating those of Polperro and Talland who gave their lives in The Great War”

As we approach our destination, we get the first signs of the tourist industry of this well-known Cornish seaside village – Reuben’s Walk, one of a number of tracks that criss-cross the cliff side, inviting visitors to stretch their legs and drink in the gorgeous views.

Descending the path down to Polperro I am immediately drawn to an example of local rural craftsmanship – a Cornish drystone wall. I pause for a few minutes to admire the design and construction of the wall, using layers of angled ‘slate’ arranged in alternate layers separated by flat stones to give greater stability. The original wall has the last dying remains of navelwort (Umbilicus rupestris) growing out of it. A typical plant of the South West Coast Path, able to take root in the poor, but moist ‘soils’ that accumulate through the agents of wind and water in the South West. Alongside it a newly repaired section js less well colonised, but will inevitably be cloaked similarly in due course.

Betty and I attended a drystone wall course for my 60^th birthday. On that occasion it was building using Carboniferous Limestone in the Peak District. However, the principles are the same – local stone, no mortar, attention to stability, aesthetics and local knowledge. Judge these for yourself from the photographs below.

The builder of the wall has wisely erected a sign to tell us who built it. If I was a local I would certainly look to use his services. Well done R.A.Puckey.

“Typical Cornish Drystone Wall using local slate arranged in alternating angled slabs. Dying remains of navelwort cloak it.”

“A newly repaired section. The builder has obviously laid his hands on a nice bit of machined slate for the horizontals. Ivy-leaved toadflax has already moved-in.”

“Columns of less bedded local stone have been worked-in between the more regular sections, making use of larger material that came to-hand.”

“Our first tantalising view of Polperro harbour.”

An information board offers an interesting ‘crest’ of a fisherman and a miner side by side. The motto is taken from John Wesley, who visited in 1762 saying “An accursed thing among them: wellnigh one and all bought or sold uncustomed goods.” Referring to the primacy of smuggling in this part of the world during the Anglo-Spanish “Seven Years War”. Between the two men is a cough, the national bird of Cornwall. This red-billed member of the crow family was once a commonly found bird along most cliffs in England and Wales. Today you can count yourself lucky to see any in the UK.

As we descend towards the village, it reveals why it is so alluring to visitors. Little conversation passes between us as wide-eyed we drink in the ambiance of this beautiful little village. It is relatively late in the day, with most of the tourists now gone. The village has a quiet beauty to it, which crowds of visitors would detract from.

“Polperro harbour starts to open its arms to us as we descend”

The water level in the inner harbour is only a few inches below street level and it is obvious why a tide/lock-gate has been installed at the harbour entrance. The natural protection from storm waves afforded by harbour over the centuries can do nothing to save it from rising sea-levels. Protecting coastal cities like Plymouth and London will require similar, but larger-scale engineering.

Polperro is definitely a beautiful setting and well worth a visit, although the on returning to the enormous car park a mile or so out of town, reveals how many thousands of visitors must pour in every day.