Cornwall’s Secret Seasides: Strangles Beach, Wild Goats, Rare Butterflies, and Solitude on the North Coast

Discovering Strangles: Cornwall’s Secret Seaside on the North Coast

A Wild and Wondrous Hidden Beach

Once upon a time I climbed the long descent down to this Secret Seaside and saw a fat naked man wobbling along in nothing but a sandal and a boot, neither of which seemed to fit him. If that sorry image puts you off reading any further, then I only mention it because it gives a clue as to the whereabouts of one of the finest secret seasides in the region.

Strangles Beach, North Cornwall

Nudist Beaches and Washed-Up Footwear

I’ll admit that you’d need to be an ardent West Country-lover with the kind of brain that allows you to do difficult crossword-puzzles. But let’s take the clue apart…

For a start, you are only likely to see naked people on nudist beaches of which there are several dozen dotted around the region – and part of this secret seaside is known to be, unofficially, one of those places where folk strut about in their birthday suits.

But why the odd footwear? Well, real West Country aficionados will recall that one curious feature of the infamous Boscastle Flood of 2004 was the liquid release of 100s of shoes which bobbed out to sea having been washed out of some of the submerged tourist shops up in the village.

A large flotilla of the floating footwear was carried north and deposited on the next sizeable, or at least reachable, beach up the coast – and all summer long healthy hardy visitors to that bit of littoral would, for some reason, carry shoes, boots and sandals up to the top of the cliff and hang them on a wire fence.

I well remember a friend of mine walking up and down the wires having found a fine boot that matched his size exactly – alas, he searched in vain to find its partner.

Strangles Beach: Stories, Myths and Name Origins

The National Trust, which owns a great tract of the coast between Boscastle and Crackington Haven, will probably not thank me for mentioning either the nudists or the habit of hanging washed-up shoes on its fences – but I would argue that every good beach needs a good story.

Strangles probably has more than most. Including its odd name, which many people believe has something to do with the tortuous and dangerous rocks that lie ready and waiting to throttle you should you be washed away from its mile and half length of sand and shingle.

Wildlife of the Cornish Coast: Goats, Peregrines and Rare Insects

But there’s a lot more than fascinating flotsam and jetsam to get excited about in this lonely corner of the north Cornish Coast. You might see wild goats, you have an outside chance of spotting Cornwall's feathered emblem or even a rare Mediterranean ant – you may even see an even rarer butterfly – and are quite likely to spot stooping peregrines.

I went to see the wild goats years ago to report on their introduction for this newspaper - they're all part of a land management strategy put in place by the National Trust and the family which runs Trevigue Farm.

“They brought 18 of the wild goats down from the Valley of the Rocks near Lynton,” I was told by a trust spokesman who added they were doing a marvellous job of grazing the cliffs around Cambeak and Strangles.

A Coastal Conservation Success Story

The secret of successful coastal management along these lonesome marches seems to lie in grazing. Stop the chewing and the shady stuff grows up. And that is no good at all for - among other things - the rare Mediterranean ants that used to live here.

Not a lot of people know that these rare ants were the key to the happiness and the contentment of the Large Blue. This noble butterfly became extinct in our islands in 1979 - partly, it's thought, because of the under-grazing-shadiness problem. The ants didn't like the gloom, and the butterflies - or at least their larvae - were reliant upon the ants.

Luckily the Large Blue survived in a wild part of Finland and there are moves to re-introduce the species to properly grazed sections of the British coast. One day the rugged downs above these cliffs may rejoice in the fluttering of blue wings.

The narrow path down to Strangles

It has already witnessed a fluttering of black wings – by which I mean that Cornwall’s national bird, the chough, has been spotted returning to the area which offers it an ideal habitat in recent times.

Cambeak, Geology and Rare Bats

Cambeak is the massive tooth of a headland that separates Strangles with Cracking Haven – but between it and our secret seaside is one of the most tortured pieces of ground you’ll find in the region. Like a very old person it is profoundly wrinkled and about to fall off the twig. Literally, this is a part of Cornwall consigned to oblivion – it can only be a matter of time before the whole lot falls into the sea.

A trust ranger told me all these rocky wrinkles are actually internationally important bits of geology and that the deep fissures play home to all sorts of rare bats.

Seams of quartz at Strangles Beach

Little Strand and Samphire Rock: Nudist Retreats

Far beneath the tortured rocks you’ll see a beach called Little Strand which acts as a kind of annexe to the main beach at Strangles - and it’s this bit, by the way, to which the nudists demurely retire by clambering their way past the intervening Samphire Rock.

It’s all very wonderful indeed down there – in a purely, sandy, beachy, wave-torn, oceanic kind of way. But I warn you - the only way down is to follow the footpath that plunges almost 700 feet down to Strangles.

A Remote Coastal Paradise for Walkers and Wildlife Enthusiasts

This is a long way down – which means it’s a long way up – which in turn means you get very few tourists on this fabulous littoral even in the height of summer. I’ve never seen anyone on Rusey Beach located just next door to the south – probably because you’d need climbing expertise and ropes to reach it.

At this time of year you are unlikely to see a soul along the whole lonesome bit of littoral – unless it comes in the form of a patrolling peregrine falcon. Last time I was at Strangles one stooped past us travelling at what I imagine was well over 100 m.p.h…

It only missed us by a few feet – so close that we could hear the hiss of its wings – which I suppose is the last sound that reaches the ears of many a hapless pigeon in these parts.

Final Thoughts: A Secret Seaside Worth the Effort

For this is peregrine country as well as being a walker’s paradise - and a perfect labyrinth of secret seasides.