Author: lowenna

West of Port Isaac, the cliffs and coves reveal echoes of the vanished people who once called this stretch of the Cornish coast home

Framed by the twin headlands of Doyden Point and Kellan Head, the narrow channel of Port Quin is a quiet place these days: a cluster of National Trust cottages, a stout harbour wall, a stone slipway. But two centuries ago, it would have been a hive of activity.

“On the cliff, a huer, or watchman, scans the horizon, looking for the shadow of the next shoal”

Imagine, the smell of fish and tobacco smoke, a boat hauled up on the slip. Up the lane, men are scooping salt into cellars to preserve the morning catch. Others work on seine nets, patching the mesh in the sun. There’s banter, laughter, salty cursing. On the cliff, a huer, or watchman, scans the horizon, looking for the shadow of the next shoal. When he sees it, he shouts ‘Hevva!’ and the men drop their tasks, clamber into boats and head out to sea. They’ll stay out as long as their nets can hold fish.

Beyond the postcards

Sometimes it’s easy to forget places like Port Quin had a past beyond the postcards. Port Isaac local John Watts Trevan makes some fascinating fishing observation in his 1834 memoir. But apart from the old cottages and pilchard drying sheds (colloquially known as ‘palaces’), little remains of the industry now. What happened?

“In the cliffs around Port Quin, mineral streaks the rock like veins.”

According to legend, Port Quin’s fishermen were all drowned by a terrible storm – perhaps as punishment for fishing on the Sabbath – and the village was abandoned. In fact, Port Quin was a casualty of economic decline. In the mid 19th century, dwindling fish stocks – particularly in the key species of pilchard and herring – and the slow collapse of Cornish mining forced thousands of families to emigrate – mostly to South America, Australia and Canada. The people of Port Quin were probably among them.

Signs of times past

While the industry is gone, the coast path from Port Quin looks much the same as when the pilchard fishermen and the miners still worked here. Two shafts at Gilson’s Cove Mine, on the coast path from Doyden Point, can still be seen, marked by rings of slate stones. Lead, tin, silver, zinc and antimony – a whitish metal used to make pewter, paint and make-up – were the principal ores mined here. In the cliffs around Port Quin, mineral streaks the rock like veins.

“From Trevan Point, the path descends to Epphaven Cove, a rugged little inlet that’s good for rock-pooling, which also has a small waterfall and natural plunge pool for cooling off on a hot day.”

Near Gilson’s Cove Mine stands another oddity: Doyden Castle, a mock-Gothic folly, built around 1830 by a Wadebridge merchant called Samuel Simmons, who’s said to have used it as a private pleasure den for partying, drinking and gambling.

From Doyden, the coast path climbs up and over Trevan Point – a natural watchtower at 213ft above sea-level, serving-up a fine panorama stretching west to the craggy headland of The Rumps and the offshore island of The Mouls.

From Trevan Point, the path descends to Epphaven Cove, a rugged little inlet that’s good for rock-pooling, which also has a small waterfall and natural plunge pool for cooling off on a hot day. The slate here has sometimes yielded fossils, too, so keep your eyes peeled.

Hidden hideaways

Around the headland to the west lies Lundy Bay, another rocky beach where you can climb down via wooden steps. The cliffs and fields around here are managed by the National Trust for wildlife, cutting back the hawthorn hedges and preserving grassland habitat; it’s a good place for spotting wildflowers, butterflies and birds of prey.

Just above the western edge of the beach is Lundy Hole, where you can peer down and watch the breakers booming under the rock arch: this sea cave is said to have been the hiding place for St Minver fleeing the devil.

A little further west is a cleft in the cliff known as Markham’s Quay. Here, sand and gravel were hauled up from the beach by horse-drawn carts. It’s also a fabled smugglers’ haunt, where contraband was landed under cover of darkness. Was Markham a smuggler, or one of the Preventive men who patrolled the coast and tried to catch them? No one remembers now.

“Nowadays, the headland is a cracking spot for a picnic. In summer, the rocky island off the point, The Mouls, hosts squawking colonies of gannets, kittiwakes, fulmars and sometimes puffins (lundy derives from the old Norse word for puffin).”

Pathways to the past

From here, you can choose either to turn back to Port Quin or hike out another couple of miles past Carnwether Point to The Rumps, which snakes seawards like a sleeping dragon. During the Iron Age, one of north Cornwall’s most important promontory forts stood here. You can make out the outline of the ditches and embankments that protected the fort from assault. Archaeological excavations have turned up artefacts suggesting the people here traded with the Mediterranean.

Nowadays, the headland is a cracking spot for a picnic. In summer, the rocky island off the point, The Mouls, hosts squawking colonies of gannets, kittiwakes, fulmars and sometimes puffins (lundy derives from the old Norse word for puffin). It’s also an infamous shipwreck spot: in 1995, when the Maria Assumpta, the world’s largest square-rigged sailing ship, went down while trying to make Padstow harbour, with the loss of three crew.

All told, the walk from Port Quin to the Rumps is a 6.5 mile return journey – a three-hour hike, there and back. To ease tired limbs, you can book a shipping container sauna courtesy of Cornish Coast Adventures, overlooking the beach where the fishermen once worked. Times have certainly changed at Port Quin.

Discover stays along Cornwall’s storied north coast this Secret Season.

Colder, but not unwelcoming, what is it about the atmosphere of the coast in winter that draws us in? And why is maintaining our connection to nature year-round so important?

Summer is the peak of coastal activity: as temperatures drop, t-shirts are swapped out for woolly jumpers and the shore empties out. The sea turns an icier shade of blue, and as nature winds down around us, we often follow suit. But what do we miss if we miss out on time by the sea? And what draws us to the coastline in the colder months?

Image credit: Abbi Hughes

“Perhaps we can see nature at its rawest when we’re standing on the edge of the land…It taps into our desire to experience the sublime.”

EXPERIENCE THE SUBLIME

There’s beauty to be found in the cold, especially along rugged stretches of coast. A change in the seasons doesn’t have to keep us away. In fact, this darker, cooler atmosphere can be what draws us in.

Writer Wyl Menmuir’s book Draw of the Sea examined people’s relationship to the coast. For Wyl, winter is a time to appreciate the shifts in the landscape – nature is exposed and heightened. And by the sea, we’re at a boundary line: “Perhaps we can see nature at its rawest when we’re standing on the edge of the land, rather than in the middle of it. It taps into our desire to experience the sublime, which is something I’ve always been interested in.”

“And it’s those times where I see people riding really challenging waves, and, for me, the sea is just more interesting to watch when there’s a lot more movement in it.”

The sea might be turning colder, but the waves get bigger, and its colour becomes deeper, more complex. Weather patterns shift, affecting the way water moves, and all of this becomes so much more noticeable.

A SENSE OF PERSPECTIVE

The sea during winter can put things in perspective, says Wyl. This comes with being at odds with nature at its most volatile – and that’s exciting, whether you’re right there in it, or watching from afar. “I can sit on the cliffs and watch surfers riding enormous waves in the autumn and winter swells, here in Cornwall on the north coast,” he explains. “And it’s those times where I see people riding really challenging waves, and, for me, the sea is just more interesting to watch when there’s a lot more movement in it.”

Against the high winds, dramatic cliffs and outcrops, this is where comfort is found. Wyl finds that the long views of the coast, the water, give a sense of perspective. Against the backdrop of something as expansive as the sea, our problems and fears feel smaller, more manageable.

Wyl compares that feeling, of standing on the cliff face, looking out at the water, to staring up at a dark sky full of stars. After confronting the enormity of nature, we feel more comfortable in our place within it. There’s a certain meditation to be found.

“The coast encourages us to get outdoors, dressing for the weather to enable us to take in the fresh air and embrace the elements, creating a primal sense of nature connectedness that promotes stress reduction and improves sleep.”

Image credit: Abbi Hughes

MOVING WITH THE SEA

The wind, the skies, the sea, all have a profound effect on the mind and body. The human connection to nature is a powerful one – for many, it’s the key to surviving through tough times, a way to keep centred. Lizzi Larbalestier, of Going Coastal Blue – a blue health coach, spends time in blue spaces all year round, and encourages others to do so too, whether it’s actually getting into the water, or simply walking alongside it.

Movement, Lizzi says, is crucial for mental and physical health. “The coast encourages us to get outdoors, dressing for the weather to enable us to take in the fresh air and embrace the elements, creating a primal sense of nature connectedness that promotes stress reduction and improves sleep.”

WINTER WELLBEING

As the coastline quietens down during winter, transforming into a more peaceful and quieter environment – it is a great place to pause and reflect on the year, with plenty of space to absorb the sweeping horizons, vast open skies, and glistening shoreline. “Spending time in blue space,” Lizzi says, “allows us to breathe well, to slow down, to think more clearly, to feel much more connected with ourselves, with each other and with the planet.”

With the approach of winter comes a desire to hunker down, sink into creature comforts, embracing warmth and light wherever we can find it. As Lizzi notes, getting natural daylight and spending time outdoors during this time of year is incredibly important for our wellbeing and that includes our physical and emotional health. But sunlight can be scarce mid-winter, so we should embrace and enjoy it where we can.

Spending time by water is great for our mental health. Water, in all seasons, in all forms, is inherently soothing. We are drawn to its feel, its colour and sounds. Lizzi explains that simply watching the waves can calm us down, creating “attention restoration with less complex and frenetic landscapes allowing our mind to drift into a more meditative state.”

“We gain a lot from a strong connection to the coast, but our relationship with all of nature is symbiotic”. We can gain from it, but also need to give back.”

“We breathe differently at the coast,” explains Lizzi, “positively impacting our heart rhythm, lowering blood pressure and enabling our nervous system to move into a parasympathetic state of rest and recovery.”

Image credit: Abbi Hughes

NATURE AND NURTURE

Lizzi depicts the sea as a “therapist or health practitioner, a partner for our lives to guide our intuition and keep us well”. “We gain a lot from a strong connection to the coast, but our relationship with all of nature is symbiotic.” she says. We can gain from it, but also need to give back.

“Take three for the sea,” recommends Lizzi. “Conduct a mini beach clean or get involved in a large community beach clean with the local community – these organised collective events not only help the ocean but being part of something purposeful in the form of community activism and advocacy can boost positive ‘feel good’ neuro chemicals like oxytocin and dopamine associated with what is known as the ‘helpers high’.”

From experiencing the sublime to feelings of perspective and breathing in the physical and mental benefits of being by the sea, there’s much to draw us to that unique beach atmosphere in the colder, quieter months.

This #SecretSeason, stay footsteps from the coastline: experience the beach atmosphere benefits.