April 5, 1992: St. Ives to Morvah

The Lees and Margie in St. Ives

On the sunny morning of Sunday, April 5th, I went down the stairs at 8:00 and was soon joined by the rest of our party for a nice breakfast in the Pedn Olva dining room. Our waitress was puzzled by a shiny patch of sea she had never before seen – on the opposite side of the estuary. The owner and the cook came up to have a look at the mysterious patch and eventually they decided that we were not seeing water at all – but the sun bouncing off the plastic cover of a huge potato field.

I was the only camper to order the full breakfast, but I think the bacon made me so thirsty that I switched to scrambled eggs on toast for the next two days. A man came by with the Sunday papers and the Lees stocked up for their return. Indeed, we would not have to carry papers or packs with us today, as it was our intention to exit the path some eleven miles away in Morvah and then take a taxi back to the Pedn Olva. We were ready to leave with only two light daypacks at 9:00.

When I say ready to leave, of course, I mean ready to leave the premises. With this lot it was always a chore to get them onto the trail at a decent hour, no matter how early the breakfast. I wouldn’t have minded so much but at the other end of the day there would be complaints about the cold or Tosh would get so antsy to finish that the rest of us would be bundled along at a speed our weary legs could barely carry us. It took us thirty minutes to get out of St. Ives because Margie had to find just the right postcards and Harold needed to go to two markets to get milk and chocolate digestives. I spent much of this time standing in front of the obligatory Barbara Hepworth sculpture outside the town hall.

At last the others seemed ready for a little walking. I found a route through some charming narrow streets, much reminiscent of Padstow, and we emerged on the northern edge of the town at Porthmeor Beach. Shortly past the bowling green a tarmac path lead us off in the direction of Clodgy Point. There was some warmth in the sun and, although there was a good breeze, walking conditions were good. There were fewer flowers than last August, more brown than green on the hillsides, but the yellow gorse was in bloom and the radiant sea sparkled and snapped below us.

There were a lot of locals out taking the spring air and we received a friendly greeting from each. Indeed, everyone we met on this trip, local or visitor, always had a nice word for us as we met up in mid-path. We encountered our first black arrow as we climbed up from Clodgy Point. The path traversed some rather boggy land hereabouts and, although walkers were often assisted by paving stones, Harold managed to slip on a wet rock and pitch forward with a crash into the mud. I helped him to his feet and he dusted himself off. He had cut several knuckles on one hand but otherwise he was okay. Poor Harold, with his throat-clearing allergies, his ulcer, and his bruised hand – it was a wonder that he was able to eat up the miles with such aplomb.

The Wicca Pool, Porthzennor Cove and Zennor Head

There were several other steep climbs in the morning but none too protracted or burdensome. We climbed over Pen Enys Point and after Brae Cove we rounded the ordnance survey column on Carn Naun Point. Off the next headland was The Carracks, a seal island. We strained our eyes to see any of these beasts but we could see no seals. There was an eerie roar from the island but we decided that this could just as easily have been made by the wind. We passed Economy Cove and Wicca Pool and climbed up beside a stream. Our last ascent of the first half of the day came with the route up Zennor Head. When the path turned away from the sea we continued forward on a tarmac road a half a mile or so into the village of Zennor – where we were to have lunch at the Tinner’s Arms. It was 1:30 and it had taken us four hours to cover five and a half miles.

The pub was crowded with Sunday visitors enjoying the first warm weekend of the spring. There was a tremendous queue at the bar and it took us some time to get our drinks and food orders. Three of us had cheddar ploughmans; Marge ordered cauliflower cheese but when it came piping hot from the microwave the milky sauce hid potatoes, not cauliflower. The pub cat made an appearance and helped us finish our cheese. At the next table there was a group of noisy medical students.

It was nearing 2:30 and we still were only at the half way point; Tosh, of course, had to have a cup of coffee and we all wanted to visit the church opposite the pub in order to see the little mermaid who had once lured a local tenor to his death in the sea (“There’s something pagan in that church,” an old gentleman had warned us earlier on the trail). We found a carving of the naughty creature, her belly button winking at us, on the side of a chair in the dark church. Tosh had fortunately forgotten about the town museum with its collection of mining artifacts; otherwise we would never have gotten out of Zennor at all.

Horses near Carnelloe Long Rock

A family on their way to do some rope climbing danced past us as we returned on the tarmac road to our turnoff. Here we descended to a stream and made a steep climb up to Carnelloe Long Rock. We rounded Porthglaze Cove, with two more steep climbs and gradually approached the very dramatic Gurnard’s Head. Actually we were fooled into descending too sharply toward the tip of this rocky pile and had to climb steeply back up on the grass to regain our route. A party of fourteen senior walkers was being shepherded in the direction of their waiting coach at the hotel on the main road. Their guide paused to talk to us and I asked him if he knew the name of the pub in Botallack. He gave me the wrong name and pronounced the hostelry uninviting. Events proved him quite wrong in both instances.

We rounded Porthmeor Cove and made our last steep ascent after Porthmoina Cove. The ruins at Rosemergy were above us on the B3306 and across some intervening fields we could see the tantalizing sight of Morvah church. There was no direct way to reach this little village and so we had to persist on the coast path. It was again muddy. Harold fell a second time and even the sure-footed Tosh went over once. I think she was in one of her end-of-day manic moods because she was way out in front. I kept reminding her that I needed to find the path up to Morvah and that she should wait at the next stream crossing. It was my plan to send her up to the road, a half mile away, to phone our taxi from the red call box on the highway.

I located the path I wanted and we continued, each at our own pace, up its grassy and muddy surface, the church getting ever closer. I was the last to arrive at 6:30. There was still some sun in the sky but the wind was very cold. I was quite tired and chilly and not at all happy to hear that Tosh had discovered that the payphone could be used only for 999 calls! I stopped to put my bomber jacket and scarf on while Tosh knocked at one of the three doors in this tiny hamlet. A woman heard the knocking and leaned out of a first floor window, “Are you all right?” Tosh explained our predicament and the woman let her in. Tosh gave her the number of yesterday’s cabbie but we could hear that Mrs. France was having some difficulty either getting a line or getting someone to come out to Morvah.

I was standing outside watching the cat of the house peek at me through the window. At one point Tosh opened the door and let the rest of us into a kitchen that seemed wondrously warm. Finally our kind hostess descended with the news that a cab would meet us at the call box in fifteen minutes. Of course I wanted to remain in the warm kitchen for at least fourteen of these, but Tosh immediately ushered us out. Why this total stranger should not want four grungy walkers in her kitchen was a mystery.

The Lees put on all their rain gear and huddled down on the grass next to the highway, using the call box as a windbreak. Still upset at having been prized out of the kitchen I chose to take shelter in the call box. It hadn’t any other use – like making telephone calls  – and so it was necessary for it to accommodate my slumping but erect body as I sipped at a carton of Ribena Strawberry Juice for the next ten minutes. The cab arrived on time and we were soon speeding back to Zennor on roads remarkably free of traffic.

We didn’t get back until almost 7:30. We begged for an additional fifteen minutes to get ready for dinner and the staff agreed to wait until 8:15. Then everyone rushed to get into some hot water. I was so tired and chilled when I emerged from my bath that I got the shivers and had to pull on my track suit and get under the covers until my teeth stopped chattering.

The others were finishing their first drink when I joined them a few minutes later, warm at last in my Harvard sweatshirt. I had just time to order a gin and tonic before we had to get up to take our places at table. We had an excellent meal. I had lamb chops and eventually got so stuffed that there was actually food on my plate at the end of the meal. Meanwhile I had managed to get down a second g&t. When the others settled down for another lecture by the busybody dowager at the next table I declined coffee and returned ahead of the others to my room. I spoke briefly with Dorothy and had a very early night.

To continue with the next stage of our walk you need:

Day 25: Morvah to Sennen Cove