April 4, 1993: Praa Sands to Mullion Cove

Trewevas Mine

I indulged myself in the full fried breakfast when we met at 8:30 in Mrs. Jenning’s dining room ­– on the second day of our walk. It took us quite a while to make our escape, as Tosh seemed to be in a mood to chatter with our landlady. Then we headed not for the path but for the general store, which would now be open at 9:40. Of course Tosh wanted to buy a newspaper but Harold had a stranger request. He had finally given up on the pair of boots her had used to get over the Chilcoot Pass and now he needed some nighttime footwear to change into when he got out of his muddy fall-back boots. He ended up with a pair of black suede surfer shoes – described by another walker as “brothel creepers.” He left behind his red boots. I bought some sucky sweets and some Lockets because the roof of my mouth was a bit dry and I was afraid of getting a sore throat.

The guidebook says that the official path runs on a track behind Praa Sands beach – so I headed back in that direction and soon picked this road up. Rabbits were bounding around in the gorse ahead of us as we headed east, following an improving road surface through some lovely modern homes and wonderful gardens. At the end we returned to the beach and a lovely sunny morning view of Mount’s Bay behind us. At last we were ready to make our way back up to a cliff top, at Rinsey Head.

There was some ambiguity about which path to take over the top of a ridge than ran down to a lonely house on the tip of the promontory. I chose the one on the left and we chugged up it, overtaken by a jogger and passing a caravan before emerging on the house’s access road. This was next to a parking lot and a coast path sign invited us down to the site of the Wheal Prosper Mine, whose engine house and chimney reminded us of similar forlorn artifacts on the north coast of Cornwall. “They stopped mining only in 1960,” Tosh said, reading a plaque. “That must be 1860,” I insisted. And so it proved when she re-read the sign. (I always wonder how much Tosh takes in of the grander vistas on our trips but she also seems to have trouble with short distances.) We had a nice rest here. Harold was adding tape to prevent chafing from his alternate boots while I took some pictures and drank some water. Then we headed onward for half a mile and passed many ruined buildings of the Wheal Trewavas mine.

There was some moderate up and down as we walked above the cliffs, occasionally turning inland along a fence as the sea cut into to the coastline. We climbed around Tregear Point and completed a leisurely morning stroll by arriving in Porthleven at 12:30. Almost immediately we located the busy Ship Inn, overlooking the deep harbor of this village. Naturally we headed inside for lunch. We never had to ask for a packed lunch on this trip – always having the good fortune of a stop en route to fall back on.

I drank a pint and a half of lager. Harold had a full meal, beef stew, while the girls had cauliflower cheese and I had a crab crustie, a crab sandwich on the local “leopard bread.” The pub, like all the others in the area, was stuffed with nautical gear and photos – a very friendly place. Unfortunately our chief view was of the backsides of eight men – all dressed in blue trousers – bellied up to the bar. Out in front an old man began gabbling to Tosh about his retirement, passing on the obligatory warning that the weather would soon be rougher.

At 1:30 we continued along the road to go around the head of the inner harbor and start back to the sea, passing many restaurants and b&b’s as we reached Cliff Road and began a steep climb along the cliff tops again. The road gave way to a fairly level track, full of Sunday strollers on their way back from our next destination, the famous Loe Pool. We had to make a brief cliff climb at the end of the track and Tosh hung back to make an impromptu loo stop. She had just used the pub facilities but she was suffering from cystitis and finding appropriate places for her to use was often a puzzle for us on this trip. I’m not sure that hunkering behind a stone wall was the best strategy here because the path climbed steps to an elevation that would surely have given returning walkers quite a sight – had they looked down at the wrong moment.

The Loe Pool is Cornwall’s largest freshwater lake, an arm of the sea that had been cut off by a piece of shingle beach, the Loe Bar. With the wooded Pool on our left we now continued forward over the sand, moving slowly forward against its friction. I found another nice green pebble. At the far end we passed the Trengrouse monument and continued forward on a track over the green hillside. The sun was disappearing and it was turning greyer and windier, but there still seemed to be no sign of rain. Earlier than I expected we were directed to drop down to the cliff edge for a low level march into the Gunwalloe Fishing Cove.

Approaching Gunwalloe Fishing Cove

We climbed over Baulk Head and turned inland at Halzephron Cliff, even reaching the tarmac of the cliff top road for a while. Indeed for the next several minutes we walked in paths that paralleled roads. I was walking with Harold, the girls well ahead of us, and I was able to point out, as we began a circumnavigation of the Pedngwinian headland, a number of landmarks ahead of us, including the distant white dot of the Mullion Cove Hotel.

There was a considerable descent into Church Cove. I had lost all sight of Tosh and Margie but finally I spotted the loos on the road ahead and realized where they had gotten to. Harold and I were having a rest in the grass opposite this building when they emerged. We had a snack and some liquid. The place was crowded with Sunday trippers and we marched past them, their footballs and their dogs, as we passed the church – its tower embedded in the sand hill behind it – and began our first black arrow of the day. This was a steep ascent up beside the local golf course; I was accompanied by three wet sandy Newfoundlands. On the top we quickly dropped down into our next cove, Poldhu, whose yellow hotel on the far side we had first seen well over an hour earlier.

We had to do a good deal of road walking to get around the cove, the last a private road out to the yellow edifice – though the latter was no longer a hotel but a residential care facility. Tosh remarked that the site was so remote that once they sent you here you must know that you weren’t coming back. I don’t know, but the institutional atmosphere of the place and the fact that we could no longer use its drive but had to make a steep descent and then a steep ascent around the place did not make it an endearing corner. We passed Poldhu Point and reached a Marconi monument (there seem to be lots of these).

There was one last descent, down to Polurrian Cove. At the bottom we crossed a stream and then began our second and last black arrow of the day, a steep set of beautiful steps made from the local serpentine which brought us up beside the Marconi Hotel. Naturally I was last by the time I arrived at a dirt track that lead out to the Henscath promontory by some private houses. A man was driving his car slowly through the puddles of this road as I stepped aside to let him pass. “Hope you have your water wings,” he said. “Do you think I’ll need them?” I asked. The trouble was I couldn’t quite figure out if he was referring to the puddles or something more ominous. There wasn’t much time to ponder this because around the next corner was the Mullion Cove Hotel. We had completed our eleven miles by 5:15.

Mullion Cove

The hotel was not crowded and we were soon shown to a series of excellently furnished twin rooms, all with en suite facilities. One peculiarity of my side of the hotel, which faced Porth Mellion below, was that there seemed to be a terrific gale outside. I screwed my window down tight and put a chair up against the curtain to keep out a draft. When I looked at the window later that evening there was rain driving against the panes.

At 6:30 I went down to the bar and had a lager. The others soon joined me for peanuts and drinks and we had a relaxing time except that Harold had trouble with the seats ­– having announced a new problem: hemorrhoids. After an hour we went into the dining room and had an elegant restaurant meal  – I had tomato soup and lamb – while the only other guests filtered in: two retired couples in their sixties and two teenagers enjoying their first wicked weekend away. By nine we were back in our rooms and I was so tired I had no difficulty getting to sleep – in spite of the howling outside.

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

Day 30: Mullion Cove to Cadgwith