This was the eighth day of a two week walking holiday along South Cornwall section of the South West Coast Path.
Choosing the walk for the day
As this expedition along the South West Coast Path was being undertaken as a sectional walk using base-camps and public transport, the direction of travel and the daily sections walked were dictated on the availability of the local bus services. Being a Sunday, only a few bus services run which means that the sections from Helford to Coverack and Coverack to The Lizard were inaccessible and had to be left for a weekday. The next section along the route is The Lizard to Porthleven, but to give the optimum amount of time to achieve the distance it is beneficial to walk this in the opposite direction from where there are buses back into Helston. I have to admit that ending at The Lizard is a worthy climax to a days walk.
The day started as a fine English summers morning with blue sky and plenty of sunshine. Early morning on a Sunday is such a glorious time to wander through any town or village as it is one of the few times that one can truly appreciate the place without the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Porthleven was just that. A picturesque little Cornish fishing village with an inner and outer harbour. Not a soul about. Tranquil in the morning sunshine, the tide out, leaving numerous little fishing boats beached on the sand of the harbour. Two canons stand on guard on either side of the entrance to the inner harbour. The church tower stands ominously at the head of the harbour looking striking against the deep blue sky.
Churches and Museums
The walking is easy to begin with, over the cliffs to Loe Bar, then across the shingle and over the next stretch of cliffs. Eventually the path leads down to the curious cove known as Church Cove where there is a Church with a detached bell tower built into the surrounding rock. The church is dedicated to St Winwaloe, a little known saint who was born in Brittany of Cornish parents in the sixth century. The building dates from the 13th Century though there has been a place of worship on the site from the 6th century.
Beyond the church the path crosses the sandy cove where a stream runs down the beach, spreading out in delta fashion as it trickles down to the sea. A makeshift dam sits at the head of the beach made from piles of pebbles and stones, ineffective in holding back the waters but presenting a method to cross the water course without getting ones feet wet. A simple procedure of balancing and pivoting across the stones resulted in a little bit of challenging fun with the chance of missing a footing or treading on a loose pebble and falling in the shallow waters. Kat took the easy approach and hopped and jumped across the many streamlets that the stream fantailed out into at the bottom of the beach.
The walking becomes a little more strenuous as the path navigates up and over the cliffs to Poldu Cove where there is the former Marconi radar station, which is now a museum, and a little further on a monument dedicated to Marconi's work. The path then drops down to Polurrian Cove which is the closest it gets to the village of Mullion, a mile inland. Across another cliff-top and the path once again drops to the next cove, Mullion Cove, a little fishing hamlet with a pretty harbour that dates from 1895. Here we found a cafe which was just opening up for business and took time out for a pot of tea and flapjacks and to reflect on the scenes we had witnessed along the route thus far.
The easy way and the hard way to get down to Kynance Cove
Past Rill Point and the cairn known as Apron String the route heads to Kynance Cove. The broad grassy downs on this section have numerous worn tracks where people have trampled over the years and it is not clear what is the official route. On a day such as the glorious Sunday that we were treading our way southwards, there were many people about and it was easy to follow those ahead. In this case, a couple of ladies could be seen some distance in front of us, casually strolling as we slowly caught up with them. The cove lay ahead behind a craggy formation atop the cliff. With the multiple tracks I made a brief consultation with the OS map but this did not offer much of a revelation it only marked the coast path and a route up the valley from the cover. The figures ahead disappeared from view beyond the crag and we headed towards where they were last seen, arriving at the scene to be confronted with these two middle-aged ladies attempting to clamber down a 12 foot near vertical drop of cliff face. One had managed to get herself down and was guiding the second lady. They seemed totally unperturbed by the difficulty this was causing. We gazed on with nervous hesitation as this did not seem right that the coast path should have such a treacherous way to get down to the Cove. I retraced my steps to see if there was any other obvious path but the only other route appeared to be the one that led inland. After several minutes the two ladies had successfully scaled the cliff and I called down to them to ask if this was the correct route in the hope that they knew the area. They were tourists themselves and assumed it must be the coast path as they had seen no other way down. More dubious hesitancy. I called out to the two ladies to be certain that the path continued down to the Cove. I didn't fancy trying to get back up if it led nowhere. They assured us that there was a pathway beyond. I sheepishly edged to the drop and carefully started lowering myself down. There were enough crags on the granite that could be used to step down though it wasn't the easiest of tasks. I do suffer from vertigo but just concentrated on the task in hand and was soon at the base. It did make me wonder how anyone could actually get back up. At least in going down there was the assistance of gravity but going up there was little to assist in leveraging and pulling oneself upwards. It was an effort, but with a little care and time both me and Kat managed to get down. Not frightening but certainly not the thing one expects on the coast path.
The followed the worn track out alongside the crag and onto a flat grassy area atop the cliffs where groups of people stood admiring the scenery. To the left was a trusty coast path waymarker pointing down some craggy stepped stones which zig-zagged to the cove. The other side of the post pointed across the grassy area rather than the route we had just come down. We had taken the wrong route. Looking at where it was pointing revealed several groups of walkers ambling up alongside the cliff edge. The official route hugged the cliff edge and this is where we had gone wrong, taking the broader track which appeared the obvious. Such an easy mistake.
Once on the other side and looking back across the cover we noticed a young chap surveying the same incorrect descent we had negotiated. It appeared that he was having the the same hesitation about the way ahead that we had. Eventually he started lowering himself down. It would appear that this was a common misdirection. Maybe a better waymarker for walkers heading south may resolve this.
The Lizard
It was something of a fulfilment to reach such a renowned endpoint as the Lizard. The sense that a walk was completed, the sense of achievement. The furthest one can walk south in Britain and we were there. No fanfare. No razzmatazz. No accolade. No spectacular monument. Just the rock, the grass, the breeze, the sound of the sea crashing against the rocks and the sense of being somewhere significant. Whether one has walked the 15 miles, 150 miles or 1500 miles it is a sense of completion with only ones own knowledge that the distance is complete. There should be no more than that. A simple plaque declares 'The Lizard' and a small National Trust marker states 'Old Lizard Head'. Thats all one needs to know. Simple. Natural. The way it should be. A group of youngsters sat on the grass atop the highest point of the cliff gazing out at sea. Had they arrived after a journey or were they just day-trippers who had toddled up from the road and wondering what the fuss is about? It didn't matter. Their silhouettes against the blue sky said it all.
After a few moments pause to reflect on the wonders of the natural beauty, we headed off to get onto the lane up to Lizard village. With the lifeboat house and slipway in sight, we passed a group of youths being herded down to the Lizard. About 20 teenage girls and boys who did not seem overawed by the landscape or the prospect of having to walk the coast path to get a view of this so called Lizard. They sluggishly drew up to where one of the leaders had stopped to dish out a few words of advise. A girl spoke up, stating that she was in need of the loo and without any time for an answer she descended to a grassy ledge out of sight of the group, though in full view of the path leading from the lifeboat house, crowded with people. Kids! We were all like that once! Well maybe, I have fond recollections of being led up the mountains of the lake district when I was their age. That was overwhelming. They will learn.
The single track lane down to the lifeboat house was busy with frequent cars heading to a small car park. It made me wonder why people could not just walk down to this point, there was a good well drained path away from the road which led most of the distance from the village to the coast path. On reaching the village of Lizard there were more cars. A sea of motors brashly parked across the village green. Is this what our treasured villages were becoming, nothing more than car parks? Such a shame. After a drink at the Witches Ball we stood alongside the green and waited for the bus to Helston along with a few other people. We watched the scene as more tourists drove into the village. Faces staring from the confines of a car. I'm sorry, but that doesn't appeal to me. You cant admire views from a car. You need to stand in the view. Be part of it. Experience it. More and more tourists arrived in their metal boxes. Carving up the edge of the green as they attempted to deposit their cars so they could spend time wandering around the myriad tourist shops full of mantelpiece clutter. Then armed with their mementos, off they would go. Another location to tick off on their itinerary list of places to visit. IF there was ever a piece of advise to any of them it would be leave your car at home and experience reality. But hey, who am I to judge. Though, I do know we walked to Lizard Point and was rewarded with the beauty of the rock and the grass, the sound of the sea and the sense of achievement and that is pure satisfaction itself.
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