April 7, 1992: Sennen Cove to Lamorna
I stand with the Lees at the First and Last House.
Although we were ready for breakfast at 8:00 on the morning of Tuesday, April 7th, I had the greatest difficulty getting much movement from my troops at the outset of what I was certain would be another strenuous day.
We agreed, in the end, to meet again at 9:00, by which time I had paid our collective bill with a credit card. Convinced by the hotel staff that the village shop did not open until 10:00 Harold had given one of his canteens to the kitchen staff to be filled with milk. Sandwiches were also prepared for us but no one would take their crisps and we ended up leaving two packets behind. Outside there was a terrific wind but it was sunny most of the time and this seemed encouraging. I wanted to take advantage of the good weather to get a quick start, fearing more dismal conditions later on. I was to be deeply disappointed.
We had gotten only a few yards beyond the Old Success Inn when I found a cafe that sold soft drinks. Tosh disappeared into this to buy a canned shandy, which she later pronounced medicinal. Meanwhile I discovered that the village shop was open, well before 10:00. This meant that there was another long delay, while Margie hunted for just the right postcard (she bought dozens on this trip) and the Lees selected the right newspapers. I found myself staring out at the crashing surf of Whitesand Bay, twiddling my thumbs. When the shoppers were reassembled they wanted to have a look into the boathouse of the new local lifeboat. Twenty-five minutes after leaving Sennen Cove we were still in Sennen Cove.
When at last we began the very steep climb up to the coastguard lookout we encountered some very cold winds. As I was taking a picture of the buildings on Land’s End a gust whipped my California cap off; fortunately I was able to recover it without too much difficulty. There were a number of trippers about and quite a few paths to choose from as we traveled over boggy ground, with a ford thrown in, gradually getting closer to the First and Last House on Dr. Syntax’s Head, the westernmost point in Britain. Margie took a picture of the rest of us with our backs to the house and the Longships Lighthouse out at sea.
I chose the easier gradient to leave this spot but Tosh discovered a suspension bridge erected for the edification of tourists and insisted on walking across it and calling Margie back to repeat the process. Ahead of us we faced the Land’s End complex, hotel and funpark, which blighted the peninsula. It had been sold by its developer to an American – but the area would have been better cared for in the hands of the National Trust. I took a seaward circle beneath the mileage marker where, for £2.50, you could have your picture taken showing how many miles it was from Land’s End to Podunk.
Harold followed me on this route but the girls had disappeared. We had another fifteen minute wait in the biting wind, finally taking shelter in the lee of a photo kiosk, while Margie used a loo and Tosh mailed a postcard to her mother. So much for my hopes for an early start. At least I had time to get a bearing on the direction of the route ahead. Already it seemed odd to be walking with sun in our faces at this hour of the morning, but the scenery was unchanged and we were still moving south, pretty much in the direction we had been heading since leaving Sennen Cove. Still, it was an exciting moment to have reached Land’s End and to know that we were now, barely past the one-third mark of the route, heading back toward London.
We descended over boggy ground and found our path again at a little bridge that carried us over to a headland. A little farm nestled with its white fences in the valley on our left. We passed the two famous islands, the Armed Knight and Enys Dodman, and made our way over low hills to a series of dramatic coves, with caves, pillars, and crashing surf below. Once or twice the group voted to nip off the headlands, as at Pordenack Point and Carn Boel, and I was happy to indulge them since I knew how late our start had been.
The footing was excellent, with much spongy turf and, with the sun still predominant, the walking was quite wonderful. The sea seemed a burnished silver in the bays before us and we also encountered daffodil fields, once a commercial operation, now running wild and still in bloom for our benefit. We descended into some ruins at Nanjizal and had a rest and a brief snack. A major black arrow was staring down at us, the ascent of Carn Les Boel. Still, it didn’t seem so bad once I had started up. After Pendower Cove we crossed behind Carn Barra and over Black Carn, all the time getting closer to the coastguard lookout on Gwennap Head.
At Porth Loe there was a decision to make. It was getting ominously darker and I was hoping to reach refreshments and public conveniences in Porthgwarra before any rain should fall. We disdained another descent and a steep climb up to the lookout, therefore, and I cut a corner off the headland by using tracks past the coastguard station, approaching the southern coast for the first time at two conical landmarks planted on the hillside. By the time this maneuver had been completed the sun was bright again. Here, for the first time, one had the feeling of being on the English Channel. The craggy pillars and ragged shoreline almost immediately gave way to a less dramatic but greener scene. So, with the sun on our right, we dropped steeply down into Porthgwarra village at 12:30.
The village was typical of sites we were to encounter during the rest of the afternoon: a stream in a narrow valley emptying into a tidy cove, with a few houses and boats scattered about at the roadhead. The refreshment building was closed, though the loos were open and the early tourists were wandering about looking for something to do. We found a sheltered grassy spot overlooking the cove and got our lunches out. Just as we did so the rain descended and there was a scramble for raingear. I had managed to get one leg of my rain pants on when the rain stopped. It never recurred. We had sun, often warming, for the rest of the afternoon. On this rare occasion I actually allowed it to caress my upturned face.
It was about 1:30 before we were able to get moving again. And we had a very steep climb out of the valley to accomplish first. On the other side of the headland there was a very steep descent into Port Chapel and as I was charging down the wet rocks in the local streambed I slipped and went down, not all the way, but enough to give my right knee a twinge as I broke the final fall by placing a hand deep into a nettle bush. The hand protested for the rest of the day; you could actually see spines embedded beneath the skin. The knee was sore, on and off, for months. And to add insult to injury, there should have been a black arrow to accompany a very steep climb out of the cove.
At the other side of the next headland we walked through the parking lot of the famous Minack Theatre; unfortunately you had to pay to see the theater itself and we were not in a mood to do this, especially as there were dozens of tourists milling about. There followed a very steep descent on steps into Porthcurno’s cove, where we again had a rest sitting on rocks in the sun. Mary Wesley’s Camomile Lawn, recently seen on Channel 4, is supposedly set in this area but I didn’t see anything familiar.
Logan Rock
Once again there was a steep ascent out of the cove. At the top, as we approached Logan Rock, there was a track that lead to a pub in Treen, but it was already 2:30 (my watch said 3:00 because the stem had been pulled out again) and we decided not to delay things with this excursion. I was searching for a little path in the undergrowth that would allow us to get over the Logan Rock headland and I found it. As we approached the waters of the next cove I noted that I had just completed my 2100th mile.
After rounding Cribba Head we descended into Penberth Cove and had another rest among the boats. All of this up and down was sorely taxing our energies and we were resting much more than usual. On the steep ascents, such as another arrowless climb out of Penberth Cove, I was usually left to bring up the rear but at other times, increasingly as the day wore on, I was once again out front. This was particularly true on top of the Trevedran Cliffs, where Marge and I waited a long time for the Lees to catch up. I began to fear that Tosh had found another old person.
Boscawen Point
We now began a decent into St. Loy’s Cove, reputedly the warmest place in England. There were trees, once a rare sight on our walk, blanketing the streambed as it wound itself among cottages and lovely gardens. Unfortunately the trees meant mud underfoot and it wasn’t easy finding a safe spot for shoes as we plunged ever nearer the bottom. There then followed a bit of boulder hopping as we actually made our way along the back of the beach to the resumption of footpath in the scrub. The trail behind Boscawen Point was also very muddy as it scrambled unevenly through enclosures where someone was tying to grow lettuce. Not surprisingly I was getting lots of questions about how much farther we had to go. The Lees had forgotten to fill their canteens and so there was a water shortage as well.
Once, as we were approaching Carn Barges, I could see the others collapse some distance behind me. I sat by myself at a stile and sipped another carton of strawberry juice until they were able to resume. Unfortunately the last stretches proved to be quite rocky and there was a good deal of scrambling needed to make progress. I waited for the others at one point so that I could show them how to escape a puddle that blocked the route on the other side of a rockfall. It was with some relief that the sound of gravel began to crunch in our ears and we reached more stable footing at an old quarry at the entrance to Lamorna Cove.
We had booked into the Lamorna Cove Hotel but there was no sign of any hotel nearby. This could only mean that we had to head inland, up a very steep tarmac road, toward Lamorna village itself. “You are all getting an extra half mile for this,” I announced. (It seemed like we had done much more than eleven miles already.) At last I noticed a sign offering a footpath up to a car park. The quite modern hotel, built on the ruins of a much more ancient site, still with its bell tower, was quite inviting after our exertions. The hair was sticking to my forehead and Harold was complaining of a sore ankle tendon. It was 6:30.
We were welcomed by a young lady who had been taught to answer in the affirmative – no matter what the question. This might have been useful at catering college but it proved to be impractical on the spot. We asked for rooms with baths, and received a benign reassurance that this was certainly possible but in the event – after much scurrying about for new keys – only the Lees got a bathtub. This was surprising because we seemed to be just about the only guests. Anyway my room was quite nice. I never plugged my TV in but I did have a nice shower, with shampoo and conditioner supplied by the establishment. Then we met in the bar. Tosh was told there was cold beer by the agreeable bimbo but this simply meant that it wasn’t warm. I stuck to g&t’s. The proprietress had meanwhile appeared to talk to two other visitors. She terrified Tosh with her accounts of her husband’s recent operation until I told Tosh that she had been talking about her dog.
I had steak au poivre as my entree. The food was quite good and we had an enjoyable meal. In the trees opposite us a tribe of ravens were settling down noisily for their evening’s sleep. Upstairs I phoned Dorothy for the last time and had another early night.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: