Category: No drive delights

No Drive Delights: Croyde

Setting out from Serenity on foot reveals a hidden coffee hut, a quiet tree-lined footpath and an adrenalin-spiked coasteering adventure away from the jostling beach crowds…

It’s mid-morning on the late August Bank Holiday in Croyde. The village thrums with the excited babble of beachgoers looking to make the most of the generous surf lapping the shore. We escape the throngs and head into the village centre; its quaint whitewashed stone cottages and thatched roofs teasing stories of a bygone age.

Foregoing the ice cream shops and stores that sell surfing paraphernalia, we opt to amble down the lane behind Billy Budd’s pub to pick up a cortado from The Coffee Hatch. This quirky converted horsebox with comfy outdoor sofas and bench seating is tucked away from the main thoroughfare. We then calmly catch our breath while perusing the limited-edition surf tees and hoodies from Stolen Goods art studio next door.

“We pause to take in the moment, struck that this haven can be found in the centre of a bustling village.”

Caffeine fix found, we meander back towards the beach, following the tree-lined footpath which cuts through the village centre. The path dissects across serene green fields where the only sound is the rustle of leaves and the hypnotic noise of a flock of house martins who duck, dive and dance across the landscape. We pause to take in the moment, struck that this haven can be found in the centre of a bustling village.

Coastline sights

Energised, we follow the coastal path towards Baggy Point which offers exceptional views back towards Croyde Beach. Wave after wave sends holidaymakers bouncing, bobbing and bellowing with delight as they surf, swim and bodyboard on the incoming tide.

The coastline then transforms into a series of folds and fractures with rocky outcrops spilling out into the sea and reaches a crescendo of dramatic cliffs once we cross the headland. We stop to admire the vistas across to Lundy Island and Morte Point, amused by the guttural squawking of herring gulls who skim the cliff face to chastise the humans intruding on their patch.

Glad to be wearing our sturdy walking boots, we plough onwards over stiles and gorse towards the unspoilt oasis of Putsborough Sands. However, its silky white shores are an adventure for another day. Instead we ascend the hills and hedgerows back towards Baggy Point car park.

On the rocks

We find refreshment in the form of a Devon cream tea (clotted cream before jam!) within the beautiful walled gardens at Sandleigh Tea-Room. We then wander back to Serenity to pick up our beach towels and swimwear in anticipation of an afternoon’s rock jumping with Coasteering Croyde Bay.

“Blood pumping, we take turns to plunge feet first into a natural swimming pool.”

Kitted out with wetsuits, buoyancy aids and helmets – and armed with useful safety tips – we walk the few hundred yards back along the path towards Baggy Point. Our instructor Albi guides us down onto the craggy rocks which are to be our playground for the next couple of hours. Taking a few moments to find our feet, we soon scramble along the coast, in and out of gullies, discovering the marine life, fauna and seabirds which call this shoreline home as we go.

Blood pumping, we take turns to plunge feet first into a natural swimming pool. As we surrender ourselves to the briny blue and spring back to the surface, it’s hard not to feel pure exhilaration.

“Although the temperature is starting to dip, we give in to kicking off our shoes.”

Dining-out on the dusk

After a day of sea air, it’s tempting to stay at Serenity and pick up a takeaway from one of the seasonal street food vans at our neighbouring campsites. Instead, keen to catch a glimpse of a spectacular sunset, we stroll across the now much quieter beach towards Downend at the opposite end of the bay.

Although the temperature is starting to dip, we give in to kicking off our shoes. Barefoot, the cool grains of sand rub between our toes and sweet sanderlings scurry away from the tide nipping at their heels.

At Downend car park, The Beach Cafe dishes up lip-puckeringly-good Sri Lankan curries during the summer months, which we tuck into, chased with ice-cool beers from Bodhi’s Surf Bar next door. As we gaze out over the horizon, the sun calls time on another day, casting a spectacular glow across the rippling ocean. We take it all in – before slowly strolling back to Serenity.

Quirky coffee stop-offs, havens found, and exhilarating exploration – leave the car behind for the day when you stay by the sea…

No drive delights: Portreath

From Glenfeadon Castle, without a car, it’s an early morning coast walk in search of a tidal pool, then kayaking to a secret cove for a picnic lunch…

It’s early August. Storms have swept the UK for the past few days, and the news shows Cornwall’s beachgoers swapping the swimsuits and sunbathing for wave-watching in waterproofs. Today, however, it’s a different story. With the sky over the historic harbour town of Portreath a perfect blue, the rising sun bowls its light down the valley, bouncing it off white walls and windows. The beach looks incredible in the sun.

“Down on the beach, we watch a dog walker being pulled by a tangle of pugs, and then ask her how to get to the tidal pool.”

We’re up and out early today, armed with a plan: a bracing dip in the tidal pool that hugs Portreath’s harbour, then the coast path to Porthtowan and back – all before the seasonal front of windbreakers, body boards and beach mats blow in.

We walk past sleepy cottages to a soundtrack of birdsong, through the arch of the old stone tramroad bridge, and across the empty car park. A cold breeze wakes the lungs.

Down on the beach, we watch a dog walker being pulled by a tangle of pugs, and then ask her how to get to the tidal pool. “It’s down them steps,” she says. “But the one at Porthtowan is better.” Given we can still see our own breath, this information feels timely. We decide to walk first, and earn a less bracing dip further round the coast.

Abundant beauty

We’re soon winding up the hill to the start of the South West Coast Path, just past the Pepperpot, an old landmark for passing ships that was once a coastguard’s lookout. Within minutes of going off road, we’re handed a breathtaking gift: as the land falls away under our feet, a crescent of untouched golden sand reveals itself far below, its scattered rocks calling up through the clear blue waters. We fall into the fantasy: imagine that paradise all to ourselves.

“It’s cold, but you have to savour that moment when your head goes under; when time, with all its corners, dissolves.”

Not that we’re feeling crowded. The first time we see other souls, it’s to exchange small talk about how happy they are that they’re going down Ulla Steps – the near-vertical old stairway we just climbed. We’re too out of breath to point out they’re about to have to climb another set we just descended. Later, we’re given a couple of Hobnobs each by a group of women with hiking poles and bright backpacks. We take a snack break on a headland above Sally’s Bottom, another magical cove, and watch the gannets dive.

Tidal pool

We pass Wheal Tye, breathing in the history of the area’s tin mine ruins, and soon find ourselves nearing Porthtowan. A steep rugged descent, and we’re back down to earth, right by the beach. Here, surfers carve elegant lines that mimic the aged hills they’re facing. We’re too early for a coffee at the beach-side Blue Bar. Instead, we scramble over the rocks looking for the sea pool, and find it nestled at the base of the cliff. It’s cold, but you have to savour that moment when your head goes under; when time, with all its corners, dissolves.

“We stop to drift. Time stops again. The only sound is the water lapping – and the dull thud of an errant paddle on plastic.”

The circular route back winds us through country lanes. We peer over farmhouse gates at chickens and family trampolines, and feel a kinship with the t-shirts finally getting to hang in the sun. An unusually long van is parked in a lay-by, its owner sits shirtless, smoking outside. “Morning!” he shouts. “Lovely, innit. I’m just sat here chilling.” His dog suns itself in the middle of the road.

Soon enough, we find ourselves in the woods near Portreath, having joined the coast-to-coast mineral tramway, a popular cycle route that stretches all the way to Devoran. It’s a surprise to realise it’s only lunch time. We begin to discuss food options, keen not to pop this idyllic bubble we’ve created. That’s when we remember the cove. After a coffee and pastry pitstop, we pick up a couple of pasties and shuffle over to the hire centre to see about renting kayaks.

In the shallows, the boarding process is mercifully brief. Soon, we’re like two old sea dogs on our two-seater, albeit with woefully coordinated paddle strokes. Pushing out past the old harbour wall, at the foot of the giant cliffs, we stop to drift. Time stops again. The only sound is the water lapping – and the dull thud of an errant paddle on plastic.

Soon we’re at the cove, dragging our craft up the sand. We unpack our lunch, and sit in the sun.

Unfolding afternoon

By the time we return to the castle, we’re giddy but exhausted. All that sea air takes it out of you. We make a date: later, we’ll wander through the back gate and up the hill, past the knotty old trees, woodland camps, and the trickling stream, to cap the day eating seafood beneath the setting sun, up at the Terrace restaurant.

But first, we find the perfect way to fill the luxurious gap before we have to move again. We go out to the book cabinet outside, open the flimsy latch, and take out a well-thumbed volume – promising to return it before we go.

With that, we settle in for the rest of the afternoon: feet up on the sofa, cool Cornish cider in hand, reading aloud the opening lines of another new adventure. “One mid-winter day off the coast of Massachusetts, the crew of a mackerel schooner spotted a bottle with a note in it…”

Early morning rambles, paddling to paradise, and uncovering hidden tidal pools – leave the car behind for the day when you stay by the sea…

No drive delights: Marazion

Setting out from Pilchards in Marazion on foot reveals magical discoveries, a collection of connections around west Cornwall and a picturesque promenade (or pedal) to Penzance…

It’s morning in Marazion, and we’re passing the craft fair stallholders arriving to set up, a fixture by the church every Thursday and Friday. We continue past the jewellery shops and small galleries, the usually busy children’s play area by the car park, eager to be the first one on the beach.

Or one of the first, as it turns out we’re not quite that early. But with so much space on this long stretch of beach, it hardly matters. No one’s yet on the causeway that leads to the majestic spectacle of St Michael’s Mount rising out of the water, a strip of rock that reveals itself like magic as the tide turns.

“We’re engrossed as we turn over stones and shift seaweed to one side. We soon spot spiny sea urchins and tiny starfish, small fish and scuttling crabs that shyly duck back into obscurity.”

We sit on the sand to take in the view, and to choose which direction to go in. A small speckled wading bird scurries past in front. The sun’s up, the sky’s blue, and the tidelines, pathways and roads pull in all sorts of directions with the obvious arrow leading to St Michael’s Mount.

Turning over stones

Revealed by the low tide is a rock cluster, like the Mount’s shadow. Young rockpoolers are already there, buckets and scoops in hand, burgeoning natural scientists in the making. We’re intrigued at what they might be finding and clamber onto the rocks – engrossed as we turn over stones and shift seaweed to one side. We soon spot spiny sea urchins and tiny starfish, little fishes and scuttling crabs that shyly duck back into obscurity.

Looking-up, back towards the village and the sea, the waves begin to roll in again, ushering us off the rocks and back onto land. A family have shed their dry robes to venture into the shallows, their first dip of the day, and we settle on walking to Penzance along the Mounts Bay Coast Path, a gentle three-mile flat pathway that edges the coastline, wonderfully walkable and cyclable.

For keen cyclists who’ve left their pedal-powered vehicles at home, there’s the option of hiring a green Beryl bike from the car park just before you start – one of multiple locations across Cornwall. We cross the beach and join the path with a mix of cyclists and wheelchair users, pram pushers and dog walkers.

The joys of seaside cycling; a Beryl bike in Falmouth / Credit: Beryl

 “While the Marazion causeway hides underwater during high tide, there’s an entirely submerged forest off the coast of Mount’s Bay. The Gwelen sculptures or ‘seeing sticks’ designed by artist Emma Smith echo the ancient tree remnants.”

‘Life changing coffee’

Not far into the walk, we reach The Hoxton Special’s blackboard which cheerfully promises ‘life changing coffee’ and ‘most excellent toasties’. We pop in to the shack to order drinks and a bit of cake (why not?) and settle on a picnic bench to gaze back at the Mount.

More than just a café (which also does handy lunchbox salads to take down to the beach), The Hoxton Special is also a compact watersports centre, offering stand-up paddle boards (SUPs), kayaks, and kitesurf hire, plus lessons. From the bench, fellow customers, wetsuits donned, are out on the glittering water, gliding around backed by a lively breeze.

Coastal connections

The coast path is flanked by the sea on one side and the rail tracks that bring GWR passengers into Cornwall on the other. Blue thistles, white daisies and red poppies spring up alongside a wooden sculpture trail.

The Gwelen Sculpture Trail, by artist Emma Smith and design agency Two

Image credit: Two & Emma Smith

While the Marazion causeway hides underwater during high tide, there’s an entirely submerged forest off the coast of Mount’s Bay. The Gwelen sculptures or ‘seeing sticks’ designed by artist Emma Smith echo the ancient tree remnants on the seabed. Featuring commissioned nicks and marks on their surface created by locals, the trail invites an interactive and tactile experience.

We reach Penzance bus station, from where we could choose a convenient hop-on/off route to nearby towns: Mousehole, St Ives, Land’s End, Newlyn.

Culture centre

Given the glorious weather, we press on walking and reach the beautifully pristine white and blue of Jubilee Pool lido, the sub-tropical Morrab Gardens and the edge of central Penzance, with its ample fill of cultural offerings, boutique shops and cafés.

After a stop-off for a well-deserved lunch in the Tolcarne Inn, sitting at the water’s edge in Newlyn Harbour and a walk around Newlyn Art Gallery’s latest exhibition – too tempting not to continue on to Newlyn – we begin the return journey.

This time we wander through Penzance to pause at The Cornish Hen deli before it closes to get some picnic supplies for the next day. We could walk back along the coast path again, but with tired legs and a bag of new purchases, it feels much easier to hop onto an open-top bus for £2.

The beach at any time, coast paths to uncover, ferries to board – leave the car behind when you stay by the sea…

No drive delights: Fowey

Image credit: Lily Bertrand-Webb

We explore the landscape from Artists House without a car, from catching the ferry, exploring waterside woodland before walking the coast path to the sea for a swim at Readymoney Cove…

It’s July, peak season in Cornwall. Chevrons of water ripple, spread and fade as a pair of swans and their three young glide past on the calm water. The trees in the woods on either side of the creek move with the wind, and we watch as dozens of house martins dive to the water before flitting back to the nest they’ve made in the roof of the old boathouse. White bellies catching the light, a relay in flight.

“To get to Pont, we caught the ferry from Fowey to Bodinnick, and walked along a trail with moderate ups and downs.”

A bustling quay in the 18th century that saw limestone, fertiliser and coal unloaded from sailing barges, Pont Pill today is deserted. Fowey meanwhile, only three-and-a-half miles away, is busy with visitors by now – one reason we’ve headed upstream. Sometimes, it’s good to find a place to have to yourself. We find a patch of grass on the bank of the creek, sit down, and watch the swans as they float languidly upstream.

Image credit: Lily Bertrand-Webb

How to get there

To get to Pont, we caught the ferry from Fowey to Bodinnick, and walked along a trail with moderate ups and downs. It’s known as the Hall Walk. The day started off overcast and cool, but as we made our way through the woods the sun broke through, casting dappled light through the tree canopy.

The views over Fowey are of sailboats lined up all the way down the river as it winds its way to join the sea and clusters of buildings spreading up the hill.

“It’s late afternoon and the crowds have thinned but there’s still a good buzz in the town. It rains, slowly at first, then a downpour, so we make a run for Mardy Bakery on Lostwithiel Street.”

An hour and a half has passed, and the swans are still meandering on what’s left of the water – the tide is on its way out. A family of loud ducks has joined them, along with a couple of gulls. We look around, and we still have the quay all to ourselves.

We could carry on walking along the trail to Polruan to get the ferry back to Fowey – or even opt for a long diversion by first heading towards the South West Coast Path for stunning views out to sea. Rumbling stomachs mean we opt for the shorter route. Golden fields of tall, shimmering grass, Red Admiral butterflies taking off as we wade through, and then more woodland.

Image credit: Lily Bertrand-Webb

And back

Another ferry ride and we’re back in Fowey. It’s late afternoon and the crowds have thinned but there’s still a good buzz in the town. It rains, slowly at first, then a downpour, so we make a run for Mardy Bakery on Lostwithiel Street, a traditional French patisserie. We say hello to Agathe, the owner, and ask how the day has been. Hectic, but good, she tells us. She’s nearly sold out, but not quite so we order a couple of white chocolate Viennese and a cinnamon roll before the other customers get their orders in.

“On the pontoon, a young couple laughs as they bob up and down, mirroring the motion of the water.”

Next stop: Shrew Books, one of Fowey’s many beautiful independent shops, which includes the seaweed pressings and prints at Moleswoth & Bird. At Shrew Books, we spend a good half an hour browsing the shelves, and step out clutching some new books to add to the holiday reading pile. Cutting edge literary fiction, elegant nature writing, compelling non-fiction plus poetry and your next thrilling beach read – the shop may be small, but the range is mighty.

Image credit: Lily Bertrand-Webb

Evening swim

It’s almost dinner time, but after the baked goods we’re unsurprisingly not hungry. So, we set-off along the Esplanade as the sky clears and the day turns towards the evening. We pass young families on their way back to their holiday houses carrying buckets and spades and bodyboards, the outside patio of a restaurant packed with diners as Latin music and the smell of seared meat and garlic drifts out of the open door.

Image credit: Lily Bertrand-Webb

The road starts sloping downwards, and eventually we reach Readymoney Cove. It’s a small, sheltered cove, the first of several choice swimming spots as the estuary meets the sea, with a fair-sized beach when the tide is out, as it is now.

It’s early evening and the beach is empty. On the pontoon, a young couple laughs as they bob up and down, mirroring the motion of the water. We change into our swimming kit (which we luckily remembered to pack), and wade into the water. It’s a little chilly and it bites, but it’s refreshing, and I start to feel the beginnings of the cold water swimmer’s high.

In the water, in between the land and the open sea. I gaze at the horizon. A boat idles along, its engine droning, and the sun begins to set.

The beach at any time, coast paths to uncover, ferries to board – leave the car behind for the day when you stay by the sea…