April 3, 1993: Penzance to Praa Sands
St. Michael’s Mount, from Marazion
The seventh Southwest Peninsula Coast Path expedition began on the morning of Saturday, April 3rd, 1993. At 7:30 I met the Lees and Margie at Paddington Station. I had been sitting there for twenty minutes, choking from the smoke needed to restart all the trains – after a day of industrial action. I was quite relieved to see that our 7:45 train was on time and that we would be able to get to Penzance in time for half a day’s walk. I bought a coffee and a doughnut and Tosh, half way down the platform, went back for a newspaper. Harold had reserved seats for us in coach C and we located these. Unfortunately they all faced backwards and this did not suit my stomach – which was just as happy to forgo further food during the interminable five and a half hour journey.
The train was very crowded – with all of yesterday’s cancelled travelers squeezing aboard today’s train as well. There were a lot of people standing – including some very attractive blonde twins in their thirties – but when the strain stopped to let passengers off, the standees were able to sit down and leave the aisles for a new set of seatless travelers. In the midst of this melee, the conductor, appropriately named Porter, conducted a sing-song comic routine as he punched tickets. He told us that one lady had already lost her luggage and her son, but that the incident had been happily concluded without his having to write up a report. Two gents sitting opposite me discovered that they knew each other from architectural college.
The weather was poor most of the way, with rain at times, but things began to brighten as we reached Cornwall and we had bright sunny skies, with a fresh breeze, as we got off the train at around 1:15. Our first stop was the station buffet for some lunch (our Intercity having run our of real food several hours earlier). I had a cheeseburger and a chocolate covered flapjack. Tosh spotted an indigent at tea and bought him a meal. “Most grateful,” he mumbled, “very kind of you.” We made adjustments to our packs and tied our boots and we were off on an eight-mile stroll to Praa Sands at about 1:50.
There was a protracted stretch of road walking, with the rail line on our right, as we left Penzance. I lead us back and forth across this road several times, looking for the most advantageous piece of pavement, but as we neared the heliport it was possible for us to use a footbridge over the rail line and gain the back of the beach. Our way forward was now dominated by St. Michael’s Mount, surrounded entirely by the tide, and lying off Marazion, our first stop.
Usually we walked at the back of the beach but sometimes we walked on the sand itself – Tosh grabbing at rocks for her collection. As we neared Marazion I joined in this hunt and picked up some interesting pebbles. Tosh was also searching for an open loo, but we were disappointed by the first lot we encountered. After crossing a stream we had better luck with a second set and also found a shop where the others stocked up on candy and postcards and Margie bought her first mint choc ice.
From a nearby parking lot we entered Marazion itself. This proved to be quite an interesting village and it took us a long time to complete our window-shopping and ascend the highway, the A394 – which once again we had to follow for some distance.
When we reached the coast path turnoff opposite Henfor Terrace there was a sign warning us of a diversion. I had read that this section is often bothered by the battering of the sea and it appeared that portions of it were now thought to be unsafe. So we had to continue forward a short distance and take a track near the cemetery – a variation I had read about in the Countryside Commission guide. Unfortunately, the route was indifferently marked and we took a wrong turn, dropping down toward the sea at a point when we should have kept the high ground via Trenow Farm. Soon we were wandering around the edge of commercial daffodil fields, trying to find a way back up to the desired track.
Perranuthnoe church
I spotted it above us at one point but the only way of reaching it without a long detour around a hedge was to follow the bed of a small stream, climbing over a pipe and penetrating the hedge along with the stream. I pushed through the foliage and was rewarded with a footpath sign pointing eastward along the desired route. We climbed a grassy hill and caught our first glimpse of the church tower at Perranuthnoe. After walking along some of the village streets we passed the church itself and then headed downhill – Tosh muttering over the extremely tidy but conservative facades of the town cottages – and reached a parking lot above the beach. I located a coast path sign but there was an open kiosk nearby and we stopped here for refreshments.
Margie asked if they had sandwiches and was told no – only toasted sandwiches. They made her a nice toasted cheese while Tosh sampled a local shortbread cookie – which she denounced – and the rest of us had coffee, The resident Alsatian, eight year-old Tamsin, kept a cautious eye on all the proceedings, lying in the middle of a grassy lawn that obviously contained the graves of earlier pets. “Guess who’s next?” Margie said when Tamsin started to bark nervously.
Cudden Point
We continued forward at about five o’clock, with the late afternoon sun still holding out against the chilly breezes. At last, after all of our road walking and diversions, it began to feel like walking on the coast path again. We made good time – if you discount the time it took us to bandage Harold’s finger, which he had cut on a splinter of wood while climbing a stile. The yellow gorse was in full bloom and many other trees were presenting their white and pink blossoms and the scene was quite lovely. We walked behind Perran Sands and across Cudden Point and encountered some really magical coves, especially Bessy’s Cove – where an estate had preserved some very interesting buildings.
After walking above the cliffs behind Kenneggy Sands we rounded Hoe Point and, shortly before 7:00, arrived at the west end of Praa Sands. Tosh had a look into the Welloe Rock pub, denouncing it as a seedy pool hall with disco and karaoke, but I warned her that this was very likely where we would end up for dinner. First we had to climb up the main street of Praa Sands in search of Boslowen-Mor, the bed and breakfast establishment of Mrs. Denise Jennings.
Our hostess was quite welcoming and we were each shown to a spotless room, all on the ground floor of a long bungalow. We never saw a Mr. Jennings or anyone else. There was a “Beware the Dog” sign on one door (and a photo of a pooch in sombrero and sun glasses) but we never saw the dog either. I took the first bath as we took turns in the bathroom, getting ready for dinner. It was very dark by the time we made our way back down the hill – determined to try the fish and chip shop opposite the pub if the Welloe Rock let us down.
It did not. The balding gap-toothed barman ushered us swiftly through the pool tables into a quiet lounge at the back and we ordered drinks. I had a pint of Heinekens – the local lager, it seems – and we each ordered from the bar menu and snacked on peanuts. The sea crashed on the beach behind us. I called Dorothy from the bar phone (after all these years they were back to having you press the letter A when your caller picked up the receiver). I had scampi and chips, while the Lees ate steaks. We had ice cream for dessert. A drunk was braying among the pool players in the adjacent bar.
At about nine we made our way back into the darkness, the drunk joining the barman’s goodbyes; it was quite cold and I was wearing wool hat, scarf, and gloves. The Lees stayed up to read a bit and watch some telly in the lounge but I climbed into one of the twin beds in my room, put on my walkman, and fell asleep rapidly.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: