I’m always harping on about The Roseland. It’s one of those parts of Cornwall that has it’s own identity. Connected to the rest of course but separate and a world away. When you go by ferry it feels like it’s further away (often because that shortcut takes longer than simply driving around by road). I’m coming from Truro so my route is through Tregony and out on the St Mawes road. The road twists and winds and the Range Rover count is high. It’s a pricey area. The unspoilt nature of the landscape is part of the charm, property is scarce and houses cost a lot. There’s a great demand for holiday homes with prices powered by upcountry wallets and what’s not privately owned is largely National Trust.
The road twists and winds and the Range Rover count is high.
It’s a National Trust car park at Porth. That’s where to head if you want a day on Towan Beach, one of Cornwall’s loveliest with crystal clear waters and zero development. A snorkeler’s paradise, this place really is a beautiful stretch of sand. Before we set off on our jaunt we had a quick cuppa at The Thirstea Co Tea van and the kids had ice creams. There are loos there too by the carpark so it’s all pretty civilised, with a short easy walk from the carpark down to the beach if that’s where you’re heading.
Today we took the Coast Path on a circular walk (there are loads around here) and having Tom and Katie with us opted for the shorter one (which actually turned out to be about 6k). Katie coped well for a four year old and I think it was because there was so much to see and talk about. We looked at secret coves, spotted birds of prey, crushed grain to find flower and searched for worked flints and arrow heads. When you get outside the children are in their element. They love the adventure and so do I. Not knowing what you’re going to see next is part of the thrill and although we’d been to Towan before, for some reason we’d never walked around Killigerran Head to Porthbeor. You can’t get down to the beach at Porthbeor at the moment. The National Trust have closed the steps down which is a shame but looking down into the clear water is incredible. The comparisons and similes are always Caribbean or Mediterranean but I like to think there must be someone standing on the shore in Barbados saying “The water’s sooo blue! You could be in Cornwall!”
After Porthbeor we cut across country through Bohortha which is a beautiful little farm hamlet with some pretty coastguard’s cottages, thatched cottages and farm houses. There’s a little old schoolroom and some barns. All completely charming and otherworldly. We didn’t go to the 12th Century church, that will have to wait for another day (as will St Anthony’s Lighthouse). We took the path down to Place where there’s a massive house in the style of a French Chateau. Place is the landing ‘place’ for the ferry from St Mawes but there was little sign of holidaying hullabaloos this time. Maybe the occasional passing family in deck shoes talking about Jaguars, Waitrose and Rick Stein but on the whole it was pretty quiet for a Sunday in August.
there was little sign of holidaying hullabaloos
As we trekked on from Place we found a little cove which sits opposite and up river from St. Mawes. In today’s stiff Southwesterly breeze anything dropped overboard from a boat off St. Mawes or indeed lost from the shore over there would have been likely to end up here. Hardly surprising that then that the place was littered with Champagne corks in amongst the standard flotsam and jetsam. When you go beach combing you inevitably find single lost items of footwear but I’ve never before found a gold Havaianas® flip-flop… only in St.Mawes! When I found my first champagne cork I joked about the class of litter but after five minutes of beach combing we had a handful!
We had a great time today, one of the highlights was shinning up the Wreck Post (modelled beautifully here by Claire). This was apparently a training aid for the coastguard but yet another one of those surprising things you come across on the Cornish Coast Path! One thing’s for sure, I’ll never run out of stuff to write about or paint around here…
Our Man In Cornwall 