The other days I came across an old video we made about cycling down the Camel Trail, which you can see here. I also wrote this article about the cycling adventure… Sometimes the greatest journeys are ones where you and you alone earn all the glory. Foot-slogging, Shank’s Pony, stomping, striding, pedalling, call it what you will – it’s your own muscle power that takes you from A to glorious B that does that trick and resulting in a sense of satisfaction that can make you prouder than anything a ride in a machine can offer. I suppose bicycles are machines, but you know what I mean. Cycle the length of the Camel Trail, and back, and you won’t regard your two wheels as offering much of an advantage. Depending on your level of fitness, your muscles will be complaining of their state of weariness somewhere along the journey – and next day they’ll be lining up big time to remind you that perhaps your aren’t the youthful age you thought you were. Mine were reporting for pain and sympathy last week – especially in the unmentionable areas that surround a bicycle’s saddle. Running and walking is what I do to keep fit – I now know that cycling requires a different kit of parts altogether. Not that any of this discomfort in the least bit detracted from the pure joy of the Camel Trail. The 18 miles of disused railway track offers one of the best days out in the region. That's no exaggeration. The trail follows the River Camel faithfully as it meanders through some of the finest countryside to be found in the county of Cornwall. Indeed, the Camel Valley belies the incorrect adage which claims all that is best in Cornwall is to be found within 100 yards of the sea. We began our journey at Poley's Bridge, close to the village of St Breward, but the trail has been extended north a bit to Wenfordbridge through the old China clay dries – thanks to the generosity of Imerys which owns the land. The area is a surprisingly remote and lonely part of the Camel Valley halfway between Camelford and Bodmin. From here the trail runs south, then west through Wadebridge, to follow the ever widening estuary to Padstow. It is excellently maintained and, believe me, is a pure joy to peddle. We did the whole trip - down to the sea and back up again - in one day and despite the muscle ache, rain, wind and the disappointment of finding Rick Stein’s fish and chip shop closed for the afternoon, I'd recommend the experience to anyone. The trail runs along the track of an old railway line which was first proposed by Sir William Molesworth of Pencarrow in 1832. The Wadebridge to Bodmin railway was built to convey the lime-rich sea sand from the Camel estuary to the bleak and infertile farms up in the hills. Construction started straight away and on the 4th July 1834 the line was opened. Believe it or not, it was the world’s third working railway- after the Stockton to Darlington and the Liverpool to Manchester lines. So you are certainly cycling along history. By 1846 the rail network in the region had been extended and the line was purchased by the London and South Western Railway. Later, in 1899, it was extended to Padstow so that passengers could reach the seaside from the main line at Bodmin. During the Plymouth blitz, trains used the Bodmin-Boscarne-Wadebridge link lines to travel over the North Cornwall line to Exeter and beyond. As you begin to cycle down the heavenly valley, happy historic thoughts fill your mind. “How civilised,” you think. “How very sophisticated to have such a fantastic network of hugely efficient public transport. Wouldn’t such a thing help to alleviate our massive carbon footprint? If we had such networks everywhere we could truly be said to be combating global warming…” Alas such thoughts did not occur to anyone in 1967. On 28th January of that year passenger services between Padstow and Bodmin Road ended after 132 years – chopped by the Beeching Axe. Talking of executions, grizzly hangings at Bodmin Gaol used to see the line at its busiest. For instance, when brothers William and James Lightfoot were hanged for the murder of Neville Norway on 13th April 1840, special excursion trains were laid on and stopped outside the Gaol. From the windows of the trains, passengers would have been able to see the murderers swinging. And talking of swinging, there were some kids leaping from a Tarzan swing at a place called Crabb's Pool, when we cycled by on our way to Bodmin. Jolly good fun it looked too, as they plunged into the murky depths of the river. Too cold for me though. The river is not exactly warm as it has flowed through miles and miles of woodlands to reach this spot. Beautiful mixed woodlands, which have an air of timeless peace and quiet about them. Along these sections you really do see deepest Cornwall at its best, but there's more to come after we pass Boscarne Junction and head for the tidal reaches of the magnificent River Camel. It’s at Boscarne Junction that the steam trains of the Bodmin and Wenford Railway are shunted from one end of the train to the other so that they can return up the hill to town. For the whole of its early course the Camel flows in a southerly direction as if making for Land’s End, but suddenly it changes its mind to veer north-west. And the change marks an adjustment in the way the river looks. Not long after Boscarne Junction it changes flavour in a subtle sort of way – up until now it has been a wooded and bosky affair with the occasional rapid and pool. Now it begins to runs through a series of miniature wetlands. Reed beds do their best to hide the stream and all of a sudden as you cycle along, you realise that the Camel has become estuarine. On our return journey were able to see just how fast the incoming tide can flow - at about the same speed as I was pedalling - but it was difficult to tell exactly where the freshwater and saltwater zones have their birder. Somewhere around where the River Ruthern enters from the south, under Great Grogley Downs, I think. What doesn’t change – yet, at least – is the way the Camel keeps to its modest-sized valley. The embracing of saltwater isn’t welcomed by some huge sea-facing vale as it is with quite a few West Country estuaries, the river squeezes through the hills as if keeping its whereabouts secret from the rest of the world. Nevertheless, it is all part of the Special Area of Conservation (SAC) under the EC Species and Habitats Directive. Sounds important – and it is, because not many areas in Britain get that international accolade. A local fisheries officer once told me that the humble bullhead fish, along with the otter, were the primary reasons for the river system receiving the designation. “Freshwater fish species recorded within the Camel include Atlantic salmon, sea trout, brown trout, bullhead, juvenile lamprey and eel,” he said. “There are also small populations of three-spined stickleback, minnow and stone loach. In some years sea lamprey have been recorded spawning within the lower reaches of the river Camel (between late May and July). We would always be interested in sightings of this relatively uncommon species.” The lower reaches are where my bicycle journey took me next - after I'd negotiated the busy streets of Wadebridge. I say busy, but things aren't nearly as bad as they used to be before the big A39 bypass put a huge road bridge across the river on the sea side of town. Before that everything used to come over the ancient, narrow, multi-arched bridge and the traffic used to tail back for miles. It’s a pity, though, that more hasn’t been done to protect the estimated 400,000 users who cycle the trail (or part of it) each year. That is an impressive number of people – and they spend an estimated £3 million locally per annum – so the fact they are allocated a mere foot-wide strip along the side of Wadebridge’s busy roads seems a bit mean. Given that whopping annual spend, I am sure something could be done along the riverbank to keep the cyclists safe. Past the pubs, supermarkets, restaurants and traffic, we are suddenly peaceful and free from peril again. Cycling under the huge span of the A39 you can see how the valley does widens dramatically to create a vast estuarine landscape. An officer for the Environment Agency once told me: “The Camel is a prime site of nature conservation value in Cornwall. It contains the largest and most sheltered inlet on the north Cornwall coast and includes a diverse range of habitat types. “Much of the site is occupied by extensive sand bars and mudflats which support little vegetation, but which, together with the extensive areas of salt-marsh, are very important for birdlife. This is one of the best sites for birds in the county: the site is of national importance for golden plover. The numbers of wigeon, curlew, dunlin and lapwing are also of note.” You can spot all of these and more as you pedal down the seven miles of ex-railway track to Padstow. It is as beautiful an estuary as any in the country - made all the better for the fact that no road comes near. A couple of tiny lanes do creep down to the southern shore, but they stop abruptly and do not run alongside the old line nor interfere with it. Which is exactly the way cycle trails should be. As we approach Padstow we can look across at Rock - which isn't in the least bit rocky at all but entirely sandy instead. Dunes dominate the northern shore of the estuary at this point, and effectively hide lovely old St Enedoc Church where John Betjeman lies buried. I can never think of the place without recalling these nostalgic lines of childhood seaside joy, from his poem called 'Trebetherick': Blessed be St Enedoc, blessed be the wave,/ Blessed be the springy turf, we pray, pray to thee,/ Ask for our children all the happy days you gave/ To Ralph, Vasey, Alastair, Biddy, John and me. There are lots of Ralphs, Vaseys, Alastairs, Biddys and Johns – or the modern equivalent of their kind - tootling, weaving, grunting and generally being two-wheeled along the line now and you have to watch out you don’t collide with some folk who are obviously newcomers to the art of pedalling. Until now, the concentration of cycle traffic has been fairly sparse, but as you near Padstow you come across a two-wheeled version of the M25. Particularly dodgy, if our day out was anything to go by, are middle-aged dads who stick their very young children in tiny buggies which they tow behind their hire bike. I got the feeling some of these guys hadn’t been on a cycle for years and could have done with ten minutes of practise in some private skid pan. The moment we entered Padstow and passed the many cycle hire centres it started to rain. But that didn’t matter to us because we could smell the fish and chips which had been the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow ever since we left Poley’s Bridge. Alas, we were to learn that this magical aroma can hang about in the air even after fish and chips have ceased to be fried – Rick Stein’s excellent emporium specialising in this tradition British treat was closed. June in Padstow – thronged with hungry visitors – and the excellent and admirable TV chef closes his chip shop at 2.30. It was a disappointment that made cycling in the rain 18 miles up the gentle hill back to the car slightly – ever so slightly – less alluring. Rick’s PR lady came out to apologise and said: “Come back and do the trail again and we’ll make sure you are fed.” Which is all the excuse I need to tell my unmentionable muscles we’ll be doing the Camel Trail again as soon as we’ve mended… Sidebar Strange name, Camel. Nothing to do with dromedaries though - more likely to be derived from the old Cornish word “cam” meaning crooked. And the Camel does weave about a bit during its 25 miles from source to sea. There is one big important bend though and that is the one between Boscarne Junction and Bodmin. From the source to here the river has flowed from north to south - now it swings west to head straight for the sea.

The Lizard is a fabulous zone for walkers and beach-lovers, and that’s partly because there is an awful of peninsula down there forming the West Country’s southerly cape, so it easy to get away from the crowds which inevitably start swelling in Cornwall at this of the year. I was amazed one day to discover how busy the actual Lizard Point area was when we went there to hear the latest news about the famous resident choughs - it was a Monday afternoon and Britain’s most southerly tip was jam-packed with visitors. But a few miles north east there is one of the emptiest corners of the Cornish coast you will ever explore. The Lizard is very much a tale of two halves – as the World Cup football pundits say – the west coast is quite different from the east. A good deal better known certainly - Mullion and Kynance Coves play host to hundreds of thousands of visitors each year, while the wilder environs around Black Head to the east probably see no more than several score. Just gaining access to the wonderfully named Arrowan, where this walk begins, will take you through some of the loneliest landscapes to be found anywhere in the West Country. We drive down the lane which leads straight as an arrow over Arrowan Common and find a place to park just before the entrance to the farm. There is a grassy pull-in by the remains of one of the those small galvanised windmills that you used to see all over the South West, but which have for the most part sadly disappeared. From here we took the track opposite - it’s a public right of way that leads past a solitary and down across a couple of fields to the South West Coast Path. The track took us away from the bleak but beautiful plateau, with its flat windswept aspects looking more like something out of mainland America than anything you normally see in Europe, and introduced us to the spectacular delights of what must be one of the least tramped bits of coastline in Cornwall. The two paths join at the base of a mini-head-land called Lankidden which separates a little bay that’s shares its name and bigger, wilder, Spernic Cove. Like so many Cornish head-lands, Lankidden boasts an Iron Age fort or cliff-castle - and you can easily see the ramparts of the ancient place rising up above the grassy sward. These places were used for many centuries - no one really knows if they saw service in local wars or if they were more for ceremonial purposes - but people carried on living and working out on some of these remote chunks of coast right up until the Middle Ages. At Lankidden there are the remains of a prehistoric field system. The reason I’d found myself in this out-of-the-way spot was because Lizard landowner and all round enthusiast for all things Lizardian, Sir Ferrers Vyvyan, had tipped me off that one of the best local beaches was to be found nearby. Lankidden Cove does look fantastic but be warned - it completely disappears around high tide and it is very difficult to reach. Indeed, the last 30 feet have to be done with the help of a rope. It was high tide when we were there, so we set off east towards the altogether bigger head-land called Black Head. The coast path first crosses a rump of land known as The Gaider, before descending abruptly into the valley which issues out onto the shore at Downas Cove. Now it climbs again, curving south as it does until we’re high on the cliffs above a tiny bay called Beagles Hole. The path winds through the tussocky, scrubby, cliff-top heathland above Treleaver Cliff the half mile or so to Black Head. For the first half of this section you are treated to sweeping views that stretch all the way west around to Lizard Point – in the second half you get a more intimate panorama of the cape that sounds like a facial blemish. All the way along you see evidence of the grazing management programme put in place by the National Trust. Acres of invasive gorse have been knocked back so that, at this time of year for example, you can see carpets of violets that would not otherwise exist. No doubt all this is good news for the local insect life, which in turn means the area will be far more user friendly for birds like the aforementioned chough. The other thing you notice along this trek are the many rock formations, created from the weirdest looking rock I have ever seen. I’m not sure what manner of stone this is, but it has a tendency to become grooved and cracked so that the overall effect is the sort of thing you might see in a modern sculpture at the Tate, St Ives. The lofty peak of Black Head is capped by a tiny coastguard’s look out hut which the trust keeps open as a shelter to walkers who may wish to find respite from the winds that never ever cease to blow here. Black Head is a great place from which to see basking sharks – but alas we saw neither baskers nor marine mammals of any description. Never mind, it is a great place to sit and wile away an hour or two far from the madding crowd. You have a choice at Black Head – if you are pushed for time you can find the gateway just north of the hut that will introduce the permissive path that allows you to exit the rear of the headland – this leads directly across the fields to the trust car park at the hamlet of Treleaver, although tends to be very muddy. Or you can do what we did and that is to head north along the coast path to Coverack. This wonderful wander takes you along yet more airy heaths that have been cleared – this time in the upper environs of Chynhalls Cliff. Eventually we arrive high above Porthbeer Cove, where you will see the remains of tiny fields that were once a splendid and productive feature of both Cornish and Devon south coasts. All manner of early vegetables were grown here between the tamarisk hedges, which still remain today. The veg has long gone, as has the big Victorian hotel that once bought up the produce from the farmers. Its structure still dominates the skyline, but now plays host to private apartments. You can walk down into Coverack for refreshment if the mood takes you, but we found the track that heads inland just west of a sea rock that the map refers to as The Oxen. This climbs to join Coverack’s southerly access lane, but we had no need to tread on its asphalt, as we were able to turn immediately left and follow the footpath over the fields to eventually reach the hamlet of Trewillis. Directly across its access road the path continues southwest again across three flat fields to Treleaver. From here we walked down the lane back to the coast path so we could turn right and make our way back to Lankidden and then Arrowan. This is a two hour lasso-shaped stroll that contains only one real up and down (which is rare for coastal walking in the Westcountry) and it is stuffed full of sweeping panoramas. Indeed, it is as good a headland hike as you’ll find anywhere around this peninsula of headlands. Fact File Basic walk: from Arrowan in the south east corner of the Lizard south to Black Head, then north to Coverack, returning first via an inland route. Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 103 The Lizard. Distance and going: three miles easy going but can be muddy in places.

The rock, serpentine, was named in the 16th century by geologists who thought its dappled colourings resembled snake’s skin. The 20 square mile outcrop of the attractive rock which is centred at the end of the Lizard is unique in the UK. Originally formed deep in the Earth’s crust it has, over millions of years, been subjected to enormous pressures and high temperatures and the resultant differences in mineral content produce a rich, multicoloured veining. For the best part of 200 years local craftsmen have been quarrying and working the stone, and their small huts and workshops can still be seen at the end of the peninsula today. Nowadays only a few people are licensed to extract extremely limited amounts of the rock. It was not always so – in the mid-1800s there was quite an industry at work quarrying and working serpentine, and by 1883 20 men and three boys were being employed by the Poltesco Marble Company. Cheap marble imports, the Lizard’s remoteness and the serpentine’s weakness to deteriorate quickly in polluted exterior situations all helped to secure the industry’s demise. But the local families worked on and still produce all manner of gifts fashioned out of serpentine today - perhaps best known are the neatly turned lighthouses that by now must adorn a million mantelpieces around the world. A while ago I visited a corner of the Lizard Peninsula to find out more… If you were to devise a recipe for the perfect secret seaside it might go something like this: take a remote coastline far from the madding crowd and punctuate it with a beautiful wooded valley featuring the long lost remains of old water-mills and have its burbling stream issue out on to a lovely, lonely, beach - pausing just a while to form a pond under some mysterious looking ruins. That is almost an exact description of the Poltesco Valley leading down to Carleon Cove, way down on the Lizard Peninsula’s south eastern coast – inaccurate only in that it is not very far from a madding crowd… The exquisite fishing village of Cadgwith has always been popular with tourists – and has been especially so since Monty Hall based his excellent Fisherman’s Apprentice TV programme there recently. But Carleon Cove – which is the small indention just two bays north of Cadgwith – may as well be 100 miles from a tourist honey-pot. When I adventured there on the hottest day of the year so far recently, just one family was sitting on its pebble beach. The Western Morning News was invited to visit the Poltesco Valley and its magical hidden cove by Justin Whitehouse who is the National Trust’s head ranger on the Lizard – and before we began our walk down to the shore he explained how an old farm in the coombe now acts has his local base. “We’ve got workshops here, an education room and my office which is in a shepherds hut. This was a farmstead and 100 years ago and would have been a thriving place. The river has one of the largest falls of water to run off the downs, so in the days of waterpower it was a busy industrial valley - there were about five or six mills altogether. “There was a mediaeval mill just here, probably dating from the 1300s - but the one further up was working until the last century. However, the main industry happened further down the valley – and that was to do with the serpentine industry in the 1800s.” With that we began our walk down one of the paths which the trust has introduced to the valley and I asked Justin if short and pleasant stroll taken by many people… “Carleon Cove is gorgeous, but it is relatively quiet. Maybe that’s because it’s a boulder cove - but it is a secret spot and not many people know about it. I suppose you could call it a locals’ beach. From my point of view there’s much more to do here than on a bucket-and-spade beach,” he added, referring to popular Kennack Sands which is the next seaside spot to the north. “There are fantastic rockpools at low tide and just exploring the ruins here is fascinating - there’s masses of history. I bring my children here and they absolutely love it. There’s the river, you can swim off the rocks - and also it’s pretty calm usually being on the eastern side of the Lizard. “The people who do take the trouble to walk less than half a mile to discover this place enjoy a sense of ownership - they really think they have discovered it, which I think is good. “There are lots of secret seasides or coves on my patch,” he went on. “In fact, there are some I probably wouldn’t tell you about - because it’s all about exploration. Getting out of your cars, packing a day-sack and going for a walk… You can’t go wrong - keep the sea on one side as you walk and you will come across gorgeous little coves just like this. “There are people who just want to drive somewhere, but that adds to the magic of this place – you can’t drive to the cove. And not everyone wants to make the effort to come to a beach like this, but I would encourage anybody to get out of their car and find somewhere like this. There are some hidden coves that are a bit of a scramble,” added Justin with a warning. “And I would remind people to be careful.” Carleon Cove might be a place where gulls go to be lonely today, but it wasn’t always like that – as you can tell from the jumble ruins which stretch off into the bamboos and trees at the back end of the beach. Almost all of these were connected to the old serpentine industry which flourished here for just a few decades in the 1800s, but adjacent to the one intact building which remains there’s a clue that point to what people did in Carleon Cove for many centuries before the weird rock was discovered. It’s the exterior wall of an ancient winch-house, similar but smaller to the one you can still see at Sennen Cove – and it would have been used to haul up the heavy wooden boats by the fishing community that once plied their trade here. You can imagine the surprise those old fishermen had when – over a very short period of time – they saw their peaceful cove overtaken by a frenzy of extremely noisy and dusty hacking, hewing, sawing and chiselling… Justin explained: “Legend has it that back in the 1860s Queen Victoria and Prince Albert were sailing around the Lizard when Albert felt a bit seasick - so they came ashore at Kynance Cove and Albert bought a piece of turned serpentine. And he got a taste for it…” For those who don’t know it, serpentine is metamorphic rock laced with dark green veins and dotted here and there with reds and whites. Not only is it attractive, but it is easily worked and the story goes that Prince Albert bought an armful of small items from the one or two craftsmen he came across near Kynance, just a few miles away from the Poltesco Valley on the west coast. “At the time there was just a small industry going on,” said Justin. “But suddenly it had royal approval and everybody wanted serpentine. As a result this factory sprouted up here. It was open for about 40 years and it was churning out everything from chimney pots, coffee tables, fireplaces, church fonts - big things, not just the small knick knacks. “The quarrying took place a bit further down the coast,” he explained. “But the factory was here because of the fall of water and they had a waterwheel to power the heavy machinery. There would have been big stone cutting equipment, because there were huge boulders moved here - strung above the river on aerial launders. They’d have cut them, shaped them, polished them… And, believe it or not, flat bottomed stone barges would have come in from the sea and moored up here in the little river where the pond now is. “Large schooners would have moored offshore out in the bay and the barges would have taken stuff out to them and they’d have gone off to London and the Continent. We know for sure there were 20 men working here in the factory - so it was a big industry for the area.” So why did it all disappear? “Well, again this is according to legend… But the story goes that Queen Victoria went on holiday to Italy one year and discovered marble - and suddenly it was in vogue - nobody wanted this old fashioned serpentine any more. It’s probably a good job that happened - if it had carried on this place could now be a huge industrial site. “In fact, The Trust only acquired this valley in the 1970s and I’ve heard that the pervious owner deliberately demolished some of the buildings here because he was adamant he wanted to protect the place and let nature take over.” Having said that Justin cast his gaze across the ruins down by the beach and said: “This all looks a bit wild, but it’s not just left - there’s sensitive management going on here. It is a haven for wonderful stuff, including rare plants and animals. For example, there’s Babbington’s leek – a plant that was first discovered in the Poltesco Valley – in fact, it was one of the last plants to be named and identified in the last century. The Reverend Babbington came here and discovered this gorgeous form of architectural onion. “And the places is an absolute haven for reptiles - it is riddled with lizards and adders the river has frogs and toads. And no, the lizards didn’t give the peninsula the name - Lizard is a corruption of old Cornish for high place... You can imagine it would have been quite dramatic as you were approaching the mainland in an old ship and you saw this high place. “The Trust owns a total of 22 kilometres of coastline on the Lizard today,” Justin told me. “I suppose it’s most famous for the Cornish chough – and it’s been a good year for them. We’ve now had 11 years of successful breeding and most of that is to do with habitat - we have worked with our tenants and Natural England and brought the habitat the choughs need back.” Poltesco Valley, however, is not an example of the open coastal heath so beloved by Cornwall’s “national” bird. “This valley is unique - it’s one of the very few wooded valleys around here - we even have elms. This is one of the best stands of natural elms left. They do get the dreaded Dutch elm disease but the Cornish elms here are a little bit more resistant. And the geographic position means they are a more isolated population so there is not the concentration of the beetle that causes the disease.” As we sat there on the rocky beach joking about the modern journalistic obsession in Britain for “silly-summer-period” stories about great white sharks (a possible sighting of one was made just off the Lizard a few months ago) Justin fell into the kind of reverie people occasionally have when they work in very beautiful places… “Most of all this a brilliant place to explore - all the local schools come to our education room and within 500 metres they have the beach, rock-pools, woodlands, the river, the history, the heathlands… Poltesco Valley and its beach has got absolutely everything all in one small area.”

A while ago I came across the old Wycliffe series about a Cornish detective, based on the novels of WJ Burley . Apart from its quaint old-fashioned-style, delightfully slow delivery and many other idiosyncrasies, the series offers a rich seam of possibility for those who love spotting and guessing the whereabouts of real-life Cornish locations... In fact, I’m not the first person to say that the rich, sometimes stark and sometimes scenic, backdrops were the real star of the show - even if the camera sometimes focusses on, for example, one bay only to turn around and reveal what’s supposed to be a neighbouring one, which you know is really 25 miles away on the other coast. Never let the truth get in the way of a good story, I say. I also say that one such bay - that I spotted in a Wycliffe I was watching one rainy night recently - lured me from my direct A39 route home the last time I was in Cornwall and inspired me to drive up the lanes which run across the hills north of the Camel estuary. It was a detour that resulted in a quick there-and-back linear walk - rare for this column, which always prefers to find a circular route if possible. But the coastal glories to be found between Lundy Bay and Port Quin on the North Cornish littoral are too good to miss, despite the fact that there’s no obvious return route inland. Entering the secret domain high above Port Quin Bay is more reminiscent of one of those Famous Five type adventures kids used to read sometime in the last century than some sordid detective story. But I am certain this is where Charlie Wycliffe and his female sidekick were standing here in the rain in the programme I watched recently. In “real life” the path that descends from the Pentireglaze lane, in the north of the parish of St Minver Highlands, seems to offer more of a promise of excitement and adventure than it does murder and mayhem. You’ll see the path across the lane from the National Trust car park, which offers an excellent base from which to explore the handsome stretch of coast that is centred around Lundy Bay. If you look for this bay on the OS map you won’t find it, however the chart does mention Lundy Hole which is a massive sea cave just to the west of the cove. It is one of the first things you will see once you’ve walked down the leafy lane and passed the vertiginous walls of Markham’s Quay – and it is exactly the sort of spectacular and adventuresome place you somehow expect to see down this magical lane. Markham’s Quay by the way, is nothing more than a cleave in the cliff-face. Legend has it booty used to be smuggled here, but whoever did such a deed would have required a good head for heights. It is known, however, that sand from the beach used to be hauled up the cliff face by horse-powered pulleys. Lundy Hole is next door, and an awesome pit it is. Locals used to believe it was made by the Devil while he was pursuing St Minver. They might still believe it, for all I know: “Take care when visiting the site,” warns a local National Trust leaflet, and quite rightly so. Lundy Beach and neighbouring Epphaven Cove offer splendid sandy strands when the tide is out. When the tide is in bathers and beach-goers have to find a comfy space in the rocks. The coast path links the two coves and then climbs the 200 heights of Trevan Point. The summit offers fine views on the entire sweep of Port Quin Bay - from The Rumps the island known as The Mouls in the west, to Kellan Head in the east. The coast path now follows an old stone wall on its way east, and this is crowned by the finest swathe of sea pinks (or thrift) I have ever seen. It is the thrift equivalent of the Great Wall of China – I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that you could see it from the moon. Throughout this section of the walk you will be able to spy one of Britain’s smallest castles. Wealthy Wadebridge businessman Samuel Symons built Doyden Castle in the late 1820s so that he and his friends could party in the privacy of this wild and scenic bit of coast. The trust now runs the place as a holiday cottage and asks walkers to respect the privacy of its lucky occupants. And, seeing I’ve been talking about famous Cornish based TV series - readers of a certain age might recognise the castle from the old Poldark programmes in which it appeared as the home of Dwight Enys. There was no evidence of occupancy the day I was there, Poldarkian or otherwise, so I wandered around the peninsula upon which it stands to enjoy the viewpoint of the deep rocky “fjord” that is Port Quin. This is our final port of call before we turn on our heels and return from whence we have come. Port Quin is as comely a corner as you’ll find anywhere along the north coast. Now it houses a handful of trust holiday cottages, but it was once a busy fishing port boasting a population of 94 living in 23 different homes. Minerals were exported from the little harbour and the sheltered valley played host to several market gardens, though the annual pilchard season (August to December) is believed to have provided the lion’s share of employment. “The desertion of the village is curiously undocumented,” says the Trust information leaflet, though I have heard a legend that claims the entire male population was wiped out in a terrible storm. Indeed, a maelstrom in the winter of 1697 did completely destroy the village's herring fleet, though it's not clear how many lives were lost. You can pretend you’re Charlie Wycliffe and mull over the riddle of Port Quin on the way back along the coast. But unlike him (for he comes across as a melancholy sort of bloke) you will be happy in the knowledge that all the views you see walking in this direction are completely different to the ones you enjoyed on your way out. Fact File Basic walk: from the first National Trust car park on the lane that leads out to Pentireglaze near Pentire Point, follow path to coast path then east past Lundy Hole to Doyden Point and Port Quin – returning via same route. Distance and going: four miles, good going, a few moderate ascents. Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 106 Newquay and Padstow.

The “Wrecker’s Coast” that thrusts it’s razor-backed rocks out into the Atlantic between Hartland Point and the Camel Estuary boasts some of the most dramatic and savage coastal scenery to be found anywhere in Europe. The list of local shipwrecks at the Hartland Quay Museum is enough to bear witness to the savagery of this littoral. Heading for Hartland Quay we pass a small building just before the road descends to the pub and the museum, and in a way the place helps tell part of the coast’s story. The Rocket House, now a modest dwelling with a big view, was once the home of an award winning rescue service known as the Hartland Life Saving Apparatus Company. Before the days of the RNLI and helicopters, rockets were a shipwrecked sailor's best friend, reaching the parts of a sinking ship that other methods simply could not. Needless to say, the rocket squads who worked from here were among the busiest rescuers anywhere in the country, firing their rockets and lines to many a vessel swept onto this windward shore. The museum at Hartland Quay was founded in 1980 in order to preserve material relating to the history and character of this extraordinary coast. It occupies two upper rooms of the historic quay buildings, which once housed the families of coastguards, labourers and tradesmen in the days when the place was once – amazingly, given its crazy location - a thriving port. Turning south along the coast we come to Screda Point, before descending to the strange demesne around St Catherine’s Tor – a steep hill that’s been chopped in half by the sea. On the other side of the tor there’s Speke’s Mill Mouth with its waterfall, which is one of the tallest in the region. The views south are certainly of the stunning variety, the cliffs are contorted into an insane and rocky dance. I was reminded of something I’d read in the Handbook for Travellers in Devonshire written by a J. Murray in 1879. “No words,” say Sedgwick and Murchison (whoever they were), “can exaggerate the number and violence of these contortions, - sometimes in regular undulating curves - sometimes in curves broken at their points of contrary flexure, and exhibiting a succession of cusps, like regular pointed arches.” When it comes to place names, Welcome Mouth is a bit of a sick joke. Nowhere could be less welcoming. The men aboard the ships Maggie, Cornelia, Nancy, Leopoldin Baur, Edward Beck and Avonmore must have thought it to be the most inhospitable place on Earth as they wrecked upon its razor-backed reefs. All those vessels went to their doom hereabouts. Travelling south again we come to atmospheric Morwenstow, the sepulchral hamlet which hangs above the razor rocks of Cotton Beach, Higher Sharpnose Point and cynically named Lucky Hole. The good folk of Morwenstow may have occasionally been called “wreckers” – but they probably never bothered resorting to setting up dodgy lights in order to lure ships to their doom. The wind, the sea and those terrible rocks are so well orchestrated in their overture of destruction, they need no help in dealing with little ships armed with nothing more than canvas wings. In the days of sail, such vessels caught off here in the wrong wind were mere moths in a storm Morwenstow Church nestles in its wooded graveyard over-looking the sea. Rooks caw and flurry about in the wind which moans through the bent old trees as you cross the stile by the lych-gate and enter a demesne that seems to belong to another dimension. That sensation used to be something to do with the white ship's figure-head that until recently dominated the cemetery. At the moment it’s away for renovation, but it used to mark the grave of Captain Peter and many of his sorry men, who died nearby, back in 1842. They had been on the brig Caledonia, out from Rio de Janiero via Syra, Smyrna and Constantinople when her luck began to wane. It started when she reached the eastern Mediterranean where the cook was badly injured in a knife fight with an innkeeper. What a rude awakening those wine and sun-soaked men must have had when they saw the cliffs of the Sharpnose one cold black dawn. Captain Peter ordered the men up the rigging as the Caledonia was pushed onto the rocks by the hard-blowing NNW gale, but no sooner had they climbed it the mast came down killing most of them. There were only two survivors: a tortoise, which somehow managed to swim ashore to be collected by a local boy - and mariner Edward le Dain who was found, much be-draggled but alive, by a farmer the following morning. If he had any luck at all it was that he had washed up here during the time of the Reverend R.S. Hawker, the eccentric, intellectual and humanitarian parson. The famous old parson's hut (below) can still be visited down on the edge of the cliffs, thanks to the National Trust, and is reckoned to be one of the smallest buildings the organisation owns. Gaze out at the ocean from the hut’s snug interior and you can almost feel the mental presence of Hawker next to you - puffing away at his opium, dreaming up new ideas such as the Church of England's Harvest Festival and writing lines like: "And shall Trelawney die? Here's twenty thousand Cornishman Will know the reason why!" Hawker also wrote about Bude, just a few miles down the coast: Thus said the rushing raven/ Unto his hungry mate,/ Ho! Gossip! For Bude Haven/ There be corpses six or eight./ Cawk! Cawk! Said the raven,/ I am score years and ten/ Yet never in Bude Haven/ Did I croak for rescued men. Parson Hawker knew only too well that Bude’s golden sands were simply a death trap. Here's a list of ships that foundered trying to either enter or leave the place in just two years, between 1867 and 1969: Alford, Ant, Capricorno, Elizabeth, Elizabeth Scown, Endeavour, Farmers Lass, Fortitude, Fusee 11, Giles Lang, Hawk, Island Belle, Kishon, Llandaff, Maria, Modeste Eugenie, Penally, President Garfield and Uncle John. There were others, especially before the mid-nineteenth century, but then the wreckers were quick to tidy up before the authorities could salvage cargoes and rescue crew. “Unless it is exceptionally fine weather you dare not stay out for the next tide,” I was once told by a local fisherman. “A depression out in the Atlantic can cause a big ground swell here and that means surf. And surf means trouble. You can get ten-foot waves. “The trick is to ride just behind the wave - the opposite to a surfer,” he told me when I asked how on earth the boatmen tackled entering through big waves. “It's a bit strange because you can't see where you're going because of the wave.” What the fishermen are heading for are the only lock gates that open directly into the Atlantic. They mark the end of the Bude Canal, built early in the 1820's to carry calcium rich sea sand to the farmers up in the Cornish and Devon hill-country where the soil was poor. It was a magnificent engineering feat and stretched nearly 35 miles from Bude to Launceston. Like most canals, this one was put paid to by the coming of the railways - it finally closed in 1891. But, thanks to those ocean-facing locks, the port of Bude remained in commercial use until the 1930's. they have recently been renovated and now offer a welcome haven to pleasure boaters and fishermen. Crackington Haven is the next indentation of any note along the coast, then we come to Boscastle – of late famed for its terrifying floods. But I recall much quieter times, sitting in the upturned bows of harbour-master Fred Siford's nautical garden feature surveying the human throng pouring over Cornwall's most secret port. Secret, that is, if you try entering Boscastle from the sea. For mariners who don't know the coast, North Cornwall's unwelcoming cliffs present - with the exception of Bude and its dangerous sands - an impermeable curtain from Padstow to Hartland Point. The fjord-like harbour at Boscastle is well disguised. A giant rock stack called the Meachard hides the entrance but, even if it didn't, you'd have difficulty spotting the gap in the curtain that would allow you to sneak into the one real haven in 40 miles. The tiny inlet twists and turns among its rocks in a determined attempt to hide the lush and verdant Valency Valley from the ocean's salty threat. Boscastle has a foot in two parishes, which are divided by the religious sounding River Jordan. Forraburry and Minster are both ancient - there were people mulling over the area's municipal affairs as far back as the Bronze Age. The people of the Iron Age settled a little bit later, and after that the Romans, then the Normans. A few remains of William de Botreaux’s castle can still be seen at the top of Dunn Street and many of Boscastle's older properties are based on thin strips of land that run down to the river and these are the remains of Norman burgage plots. Now we come to a fascinating bit of coast near Willapark and Bossiney Cove. Rocky Valley is one of the West Country’s closest kept secrets – few people enter this amazing ravine which leads inland to famous, but little visited St Nectan’s Glen. From here there’s a walk to celebrated St Piran’s Well, which some people regard as being the most important place in Cornwall. Even more legendary is much celebrated Tintagel Head and its world famous castle, otherwise known as The Island. English Heritage run the place nowadays and you must pay an entry fee if you want to explore the place where possibly good King Arthur was conceived. We pass Tintagel Haven (where they once traded in boats, against all the odds) and climb towards Barras Nose, which was the first coastal property the National Trust ever owned. From up here you wonder at the antics of the old slate quarrymen who used to dangle hereabouts in their vertiginous attempts to relieve the cliffs of their booty. “I live in a street with 32 addresses," says Port Isaac's former postmaster, Jon Cleave. "Only four of them are permanent homes.” Walk through the myriad cobbled streets of this most famous of tourist honey-pots on a winter's day and you'll witness the results of this remarkable statistic. There is a forsaken, deserted - even abandoned - demeanour about the place. Middle Street, Dolphin Street and Rose Hill all look pretty enough, but they're too pretty by half and so have become the part-time preserve of the well-healed from cities. Second homes and holiday properties don't exactly rattle with life in the depths of winter and it is difficult now to imagine the days when village women would load thousands of tons of Delabole slate onto the schooners that used to ply in and out of here. Somewhat fittingly, we leave the wreckers coast by visiting tiny, quiet Port Quin, which is the last stop before the coast rounds The Rumps and Pentire Head to reach the Camel Estuary and Padstow. The entire male population of this once busy place was wiped out in a single terrible storm in the winter of 1697. Records have it that the village's herring fleet was completely destroyed, though it's not clear how many lives were lost. But then, no one will ever know just how many thousands of poor sailors have met their ends along this beautiful, but terrible, coast.

Any Excuse to Head West: A Journey Through West Cornwall The Meaning of Hesperian The Oxford Dictionary defines "Hesperian" as an "inhabitant of a western land," making it a fitting term for someone named Hesp. Especially when that land is bathed in Atlantic salt spray. Exploring West Cornwall In keeping with the spirit of these pages, it was time for another westward journey—this time to West Cornwall. The trip included a visit to Porthleven for the relaunch of Jude Kereama’s successful Kota restaurant and a stay at the newly refurbished Treloyhan Manor in St Ives. Additionally, a trip to Zennor, one of the most scenic villages in the South West, was in order. Zennor recently gained national attention when Sir Michael Morpurgo mentioned it on BBC’s Today programme while discussing his new play, White Horse. The Timeless Charm of Zennor Zennor holds a special place in my heart. As I sat in the historic Tinner’s Arms recently, I realized I had been visiting the village for 50 years. It was the perfect time for a nostalgic hike, especially given Zennor’s legendary connection to mermaids. The Mermaid of Zennor Legend has it that a mermaid from Pendour Cove fell in love with Matthew Trewhella, a local singer with a captivating voice. Unable to resist his songs, she ventured onto land, eventually convincing Matthew to join her beneath the waves—never to be seen again. Some say his ghostly singing can still be heard at sunset. Walking Around Zennor Head For those with limited time, the lasso-shaped route from Zennor village to the coast and back provides stunning views with minimal effort. The two-mile walk is easygoing and offers breathtaking sights, including the legendary Pendour Cove. DH Lawrence on Zennor The acclaimed writer DH Lawrence, who once lived in Zennor, beautifully captured its essence: "At Zennor one sees the infinite Atlantic, all peacock-mingled colours, and the gorse is sunshine itself. Zennor is a most beautiful place: a tiny granite village nestling under high shaggy moor-hills and a big sweep of lovely sea beyond, such a lovely sea, lovelier even than the Mediterranean..... It is the best place I have been in, I think." I wholeheartedly agree. Over the years, I have frequently explored these moors and cliffs, relishing their untamed beauty. Directions for the Walk Park in the village and resist the temptation of the Tinner’s Arms before setting off. From the church, a small lane leads through a farmyard where a choice of footpaths emerges. Take the left path towards the South West Coast Path. If time permits, explore the historic granite church first, which is linked to the legendary St. Senara. The path winds down to the sea cliffs, where spectacular views await. Those keen on a longer adventure can extend the walk towards Carnelloe Cliff, but for this trip, the plan was to return to St Ives for an evening at Kota’s relaunch. Treloyhan Manor: A Luxurious Stay in St Ives The History of Treloyhan Manor Located just above St Ives, Treloyhan Manor was built in 1892 by Edward Hain, a local shipping magnate. Designed by renowned Cornish architect Silvanus Trevail, this grand residence has been transformed into a collection of beautifully appointed self-catering apartments by the Carbis Bay Estate. Modern Comforts and Stunning Views Treloyhan offers 18 residences, ranging from one to three bedrooms, as well as two-bedroom townhouses with spectacular bay views. Guests enjoy access to the Carbis Bay Estate’s C Bay Spa and restaurants, with concierge services available on-site. Private chefs can be arranged for in-residence dining experiences. Treloyhan’s prime location makes it easy to explore St Ives and Carbis Bay, with direct access to the coastal path. Rates: From £300 per night Website: Treloyhan ManorTel: 01736 795311 Email: Reservations@treloyhanmanor.co.uk Kota’s Relaunch: A Fresh Take on Cornish Cuisine A New Direction for Kota Porthleven’s beloved Kota restaurant has undergone a major transformation. Owner Jude Kereama and head chef Ross Sloan have introduced a fresh concept inspired by Cornish and Basque culinary traditions. Introducing Cornish ‘Pinxos’ Jude explains: “Kota’s style of food has continually evolved since we launched back in 2006, but we are shaking things up with a new approach. Cornish ‘pinxos’ is at the heart of our new offering – small, flavourful dishes complementing the wine expertise of our front-of-house team, giving customers a new and engaging dining experience.” The concept celebrates Cornwall’s maritime and cultural ties with northern Spain. The menu features oysters (Kota means “shellfish” in Maori), kroketas (Basque-style croquettes), Gordal olives, and daily specials. Meat dishes include tartare or carpaccio options, while vegetarian dishes highlight seasonal produce. The fish selection changes daily, depending on the local catch. Kota’s Signature Tasting Menu For those seeking a full culinary experience, Kota continues to offer a six-course chef’s tasting menu crafted by Ross Sloan, priced at £75 per person. When I was staying at the Treloyhan Manor recently, I took advantage of a wonderful local taxi company, A2B Taxis Cornwall so that I could get over to Porthleven (and back after a few glasses of wine) for the Kota relaunch… About A 2 B Taxis Cornwall Premium Vehicles: The fleet includes a variety of high-quality vehicles that ensure comfort and safety for every journey. Versatile Services: Whether it's airport transfers, business meetings, or local tours, A2B caters for all travel requirements with professionalism and efficiency. 200 cars and 300 staff. Experienced Drivers: A2B’s drivers are not only experienced and courteous but also possess extensive knowledge of Cornwall, ensuring you reach your destination promptly and safely. Competitive Pricing: The company offers competitive rates without compromising on the quality of service, making us an ideal choice for businesses looking for reliable transportation solutions. Website: https://link.edgepilot.com/s/b941c054/M3DQwQUHRUuuhAN5ua2V-A?u=https://a2btaxistruro.com/ Telephone number: 01872 272989 Final Thoughts From scenic coastal walks and historic legends to fine dining and luxurious stays, West Cornwall has it all. Whether you’re drawn to Zennor’s mystical charm, St Ives’ elegant retreats, or Porthleven’s innovative cuisine, this western land continues to enchant and inspire.

It’s cold outside today. Cold for the UK, that is. Go up on a ridge and face east and the windchill factor will hit your face at around minus 7 or 8 centigrade, which is nippy for us Brits. But I’ve been in places which are much much colder - and shall never forget walking around Whitehorse in the Yukon one morning when the temperature had dipped to around minus 35c. It was so cold that, although i was wrapped up very warm indeed with multiple layers, my thick duck-down filled coat let me down just a bit because the wind went straight through the zip and sort of sliced me down the middle like a surgeon’s knife. Later I borrowed a Canada Goose coat which was completely fantastic in that I survived hours of dog-sledding or whatever in temperatures dipping well below minus 40c. Those coats are miraculous. I’d definitely have one if I lived in the Yukon - but they cost about £1500 and we just don’t get the colder weather here in England like we used to. I much prefer a cold winter to a wet one, I know that. And I enjoyed our cold-weather walk today. The concept of winter can be a welcome one, even if it is a season we are glad to see the back of. Unless, that is, we think of an iconic winter which is rich in all the most exciting things that the great cold can provide. I’m talking about the kind of truly classic winter pastimes like dog-sledding or snow-mobile travel - chilly images that speak of deep, snow-filled, forests and remote communities near the Arctic Circle where great white drifts sit deep on every roof. But as the climate changes and our old-fashioned winters disappear, I’ve got a feeling there is an increasing appetite for such a thing - and I can say that after spending a couple of winter weeks in the Yukon a few years ago. What you get in Canada’s vast empty north-east quarter is winter writ big. Just being there, in temperatures that can dip to minus 50 degrees, is an adventure. Looking out of your hotel window at the all-embracing deepfreeze is a thrill. And travelling around in a place that is as big as Western Europe but which only has a population half that of a town like Taunton is, somehow, breathtaking and astonishing. Whitehorse is classified as a city, but it only has a population of just over 25,000. I liked it a lot and spent a few days there wandering around on my own a lot before heading off in to the wintry wilderness with a group of journalists. The tourism office guide took me out in the evenings and we had great fun - eating wonderful food I remember. But I shall never forget spending four hours walking around Whitehorse and its environs all on my own on the very first morning after I’d arrived on a midnight flight. I awoke to find a curious blob of rainbow just hanging above the town. I asked if these “sundogs” as they are known, were common in the Yukon and was told they weren’t. So it made the start of my stay feel rather special… For guides and maps contact Tourism Yukon on 020 8339 6152 or visit www.travelyukon.com Martin travelled with Air Canada – check out flights and times at www.aircanada.com

There’s a hole in the ground on a windswept moor in Cornwall where ravens go to be lonely and a few stonechats chirrup, and not a lot else happens at all. Thickets have long since choked the misshapen crater, so you can’t climb into it – you can’t even really see where it begins and where it ends. We’re on the top of Tregonning Hill - a very important place in Cornwall’s history but somewhere that is seldom visited by tourists. A strange kind of place. Strange, unless you know something of the hole’s history – then you begin to realise why someone should declare it to be a very special place indeed. This crater in the lofty airy bosom of Cornwall led to the employment of hundreds of thousands of men. Its story bequeathed the county countless £millions. Its white powdery progeny is to be found everywhere – a large percentage of the man-made things you touch will contain it. Indeed, you’ve probably touched something containing William Cookworthy’s magic ingredient already this morning. If you live in Cornwall or South Devon, you may also have seen the physical results of his work. No man in the history of the West Country has had such a far-reaching effect on the region as the Kingsbridge weaver’s son who was born just over 300 years ago today. What follows is an article I wrote about Cookworthy many years ago. The China Clay industry in Cornwall has changed a lot since then - in an ever shrinking kind of way, it has to be said. The company mentioned below and some of the facts and figures which were correct 16 years ago when I wrote the piece are probably no longer relevant. But it’s worth repeating anyway - because it is a hell of a story - and so few of those millions of tourists crossing over the Tamar to the west will have any idea that it ever existed… Not only did Cookworthy’s discoveries change the face of large swathes of the Cornish and Devon landscapes forever, but they provided employment for many, many thousands over the best part of those three centuries. And it is true to say you will have already benefited from the results of Cookworthy’s work this morning before reading this newspaper. There would have been china clay in the light switch. There’d have been quite a lot of it in the washbasin and the toilet. You could even have found it in your toothpaste. Someone, sooner or later, would probably have discovered the value of the seemingly worthless West Country clay if Cookworthy hadn’t been inspired by his stroke of genius in the 1740’s – but the fact remains that the humble weaver’s son from South Devon was the man who got their first and he was awarded an all-important patent to prove it. William Cookworthy was born on April 12 1705, the son of a Quaker from Kingsbridge. The Quakers tended to look after one another and in 1719, at the age of 14, young Cookworthy was taken on as an apprentice by Silvanus Bevan, a Quaker chemist and druggist from in London. The Devon boy had to make the 200 mile journey to the capital on foot as he had no money for the coach fare. But the trip was worth it - he was obviously a bright lad – in addition to his training in dispensary, William also learned Latin, Greek and French, as well as metallurgy. So bright, in fact, that after seven years Bevan offered him a position in a new wholesale pharmacy business he was setting up in Plymouth. By 1735 they were partners and his influence in the business grew when he took on his late wife’s brother to form “Cookworthy and Company”. This gave William more time to spend on his real interests and he began to experiment in chemistry and metallurgy. He also found time to read – and it was a chance perusal of a journal written by a Jesuit missionary which first set him on the trail of china clay. The missionary gave an account of porcelain manufacture in China, and this fired William’s imagination. His thoughts on the subject were further inspired when three Americans visited him with samples of Virginian clay and porcelain in 1745. By this time the Cookworthy business was really flourishing, supplying merchant ships calling at Plymouth. It’s said that he even fell into disagreement with the Society of Apothecaries when he ignored the monopoly which Queen Anne had granted to them to supply Naval ships. The Virginian visitors were involved in a business importing clay through the port of Bristol, but at that time English potters were only able to produce types of ‘earthenware’ - real porcelain was imported from China, where the clay used was known as ‘kaolin’. In 1746 Cookworthy was invited down to Cornwall to visit Great Work Mine at Tregonning Hill, near Helston. As he looked around he was fascinated to observe that miners were repairing furnaces with a local clay, which they called “moorstone” or “growan clay”, noticing that it seemed to survive the high temperatures without cracking. He borrowed a spade and took some samples back to Plymouth where he conducted various experiments. It soon became apparent that the material was capable of making an excellent porcelain and William lost no time in leasing several of the clay pits in the Tregonning Hill area. But the clay contained large quantities of mica and soon deposits of a superior quality were found on land owned by Thomas Pitt (who became Lord Camelford in 1784) in the parish of St Stephen’s, near St Austell – and this area is still the main site of extraction today. Pitt put money into Cookworthy’s venture and in December 1766 they set up a small factory called the Plymouth China Works where William continued experimenting to find the best ways of processing, glazing and firing his beloved clay. On March 17th 1768 Cookworthy obtained a patent for “Making porcelain from Moorstone, Growan and Growan Clay”. It gave him the exclusive right to use china clay for porcelain manufacture. The Plymouth works produced the UK’s first home-manufactured hard paste porcelain. Jugs, vases and decorated tea services were made, but the venture wasn’t exactly earning big bucks so Cookworthy amalgamated it with a pottery in Bristol. His cousin, Richard Champion, became manager of “William Cookworthy and Company” – and the rest is history. A history, as we’ve said, that changed the face of Cornwall and Devon. More and more potteries started using porcelain and demand grew. Many of potteries acquired rights to mine their own clay and mid-Cornwall went through something akin to a kaolin-Klondike. The craze for clay grew even further in the mid-nineteenth century when it was discovered that the material could also be used in the manufacture of paper industry. It was all pretty cut-throat out there in the Cornish “Alps” - as the area north of St Austell became known thanks to its white conical heaps of unwanted granite sand. By the early 1900’s more than 70 separate companies were digging away at the hills. There was huge price competition, but there were no set standards on the quality of the material mined. It was a somewhat anarchic market to say the least. Over production was rife and there was little capital investment being made into the industry. The working conditions were said to be pretty poor and wages were low. However, it was undoubtedly a strongly positioned industry – the West Country china clay pits held a virtual world monopoly over production. And it was good for the British economy, more than three-quarters of the output went abroad to places like the USA and Europe. The industry desperately needed regulating and, not long after the First World War was over, three of the leading producers amalgamated to form English China Clays (ECC) Limited – a company which oversaw more than half the entire South West capacity. The multinational minerals company IMERYS eventually bought ECC and is now (in 2004) the world’s largest producer of china clay – with 39 percent of its production coming from Cornwall and four percent from Devon. The company obviously believes there’s a huge future in West Country china clay – it has invested £106 million within the UK over the last five years and is planning go invest a further £27 million in 2005. At this point I must introduce a man called Ivor Bowditch, who was community public relations manager for IMERYS at the time I wrote the article. I interviewed Ivor several times over the years and learned a great deal about the China Clay industry from him - he was passionate about the industry and knew absolutely everything there was to know about it… Anyway, to go back to the 2004 article… Ivor has an encyclopaedic knowledge of the industry, and he told me: “Cookworthy died in 1780 with the knowledge that his patent had been modified to allow the Staffordshire potters to use china clay, but with little knowledge of how the industry would have developed. He would undoubtedly be amazed at the scale of the industry today and the technology we use. “For 100 years after he’d patented the use of china clay, the industry employed little over 200 people. But as the demand for clay grew from mid-19th century the number of companies, together with those employed, increased dramatically to a point around 1900 when there were probably some 5000 people working in china clay here in the South West.” After the two world wars the figure eventually peeked at 6,000, but Mr Bowditch explained how advances in technology and mechanisation had brought the number of people employed in the industry down to 2,500, the present number employed. “The industry has had a far reaching effect on local employment and commerce,” Mr Bowditch went on. “Over the past 50 years china clay has led the way in developing educational standards by employing large numbers of apprentices who’ve been trained in various technical disciplines. It is a fact that a large number of successful engineering activities within the mid-Cornwall area have been developed on back of the china clay industry’s requirement for skilled people. “The industry has been at the forefront of technical development and continues to operate a large research and development facility employing 140 scientists who provide a scientific base for IMERYS’ much larger global operations.” It was Mr Bowditch who came up with the line about how much china clay the average person comes into contact with first thing kin the morning: “By time readers see this article in the morning they will have used a lot of china clay,” he beamed with obvious pride. “It will have been in the light-switch, in the toothpaste, even in the newspaper. The car you drive will have whole range of components that include china clay - from the electrics to the facia panels, from the paint to materials in the tyres. In a high quality performance engine it may well be that components have been cast in a mould made from china clay based products. “Rolls Royce use it in their aero engine components – you’ll even find materials supplied by IMERYS in the turbine blades of the latest jet engines.” The weaver’s son from Kingsbridge could never have realised just how far-reaching – on an global scale - his unearthing of some humble, white, Cornish mud would turn out to be. Sidebar 1 Excerpt from Parliamentary papers of 1768: “Patent, dated the 17th March 1768, granted to William Cookworthy, of Plymouth, Chymist, for the sole Use and Exercise of a Discovery of Materials of the same Nature as those of which the Asiatic and Dresden Porcelain are made, were produced to your Committee, and read: “That he has great Experience in several of the China Manufactures, and has made several Trials upon all of this which have been manufactured in England, and finds that all of them, except that of Bristol, were destroyed in the same Fire that brings Bristol to perfection. And he produced to your Committee several Samples of the said Kinds of China, which showed the Effects upon them severally; and said, that they have not been able to bring the Bristol China to a marketable Commodity, that they can afford it at a Price equal to Foreign China of equal Goodness, and that they have made some Specimens equal to good Dresden; that he had not seen any Dresden ornamental China equal to the Vases produced to your Committee, nor any Thing in Biscuit equal to the Biscuit in those Vases, and other Ornaments…” The document goes on at some length, but the “Bristol” referred to was the name given to Cookworthy’s porcelain – his company having been merged with a Bristol pottery to produce chinaware of a high quality. Sidebar 2 Cookworthy timeline: 1705: April 12, William Cookworthy born at Kingsbridge, South Devon, son of a Quaker weaver. 1719: Cookworthy is taken on as an apprentice chemist in London. 1726: Given a position in a new wholesale pharmacy business in Plymouth. 1735: Becomes partner in company. 1740’s: Reads missionary accounts of special clays – known as kaolin - being used in the manufacture of porcelain in China. Also meets three Americans selling Virginian clays through the port of Bristol. 1746: Cookworthy discovers clays known locally as “moorstone” being used to patch up mine furnaces near Helston. He spends years experimenting with the local clay. 1766: Sets up small factory trial porcelain items are manufactured. 1768: Cookworthy obtains a patent for “Making porcelain from Moorstone, Growan and Growan Clay” - giving him the exclusive right to use china clay for porcelain manufacture. 1773/74: Sells company to cousin, Richard Champion made manager. Cookworthy sells his interests to Richard and retires. 1777: Richard Champion attempts to renew the patent, but Josiah Wedgwood and other Staffordshire potters raise objections. Use of china clay was released to enable the manufacture of other ceramic products provided that the formula was not infringed. 1782: Champion sells formula to the New Hall Porcelain Company, which had been formed by the Staffordshire potters. 1780: October 17th Cookworthy dies and is buried in the family vault in the Westwell Street Burial Ground, Plymouth.

Some call him The Codfather, but to thousands of food-lovers across north and west Devon, he is Dan the Fishman. A few even know him by his real name, Dan Garnett - but whatever you call him, this avuncular purveyor of seafood is very good fun to be around. Which is why, year after year, I took up Dan’s invitation to attend a beach picnic in a bid to celebrate the fruits of the sea in general and the fruits of the North Devon area fishery in particular. Beach cooking with Dan the Fishman It was, after all, one of the first sea-areas in the world where a no-take zone was put in place - a concept which eventually led to the Marine Conservation Zones which now surround British coasts. And it was the local fishermen themselves who originally instigated the seasonal no-go area known as The Lundy Box after they realised it acted as a kind of nursery for the fish which provide them with a living. But it is Dan’s passion for the harvest of the ocean which so many of his Devon customers (and WMN readers) find attractive. And the reason we like to go on his seaside seafood picnics every year is to help him spread some of the enthusiasm. Having said that, we’ve not been able to gather for such a celebration for two long years, which is why we were so pleased to head to the shoreline this week for a socially-distanced cook-up at a secret location on the Clovelly coast. Dan, who lives in the area, had been given permission by the owners of the Clovelly Estate for us to drive down private forestry rides so we could reach an isolated cove with all our cooking equipment and therefore be far from the madding crowd. Because that’s one of the things about these annual seaside get-togethers… We always attract a large crowd of interested folk who just happen to be at whatever the location is - and Dan is very generous when it comes to handing out mackerel butties, cartons of seafood soup and other tasty morsels. Perhaps not the wisest idea at present, even if the pandemic threat is receding. Anyway, down down down we went to a remarkable beach somewhere between Clovelly and Hartland Point and, once there, our regular “Fish Crew” helped set up a mobile kitchen so we could begin preparing the enormous five-course seafood lunch Dan had planned. “This is a stretch of shore known as the Iron Coast - it was a graveyard of ships in the old days,” Dan told me. “It’s a bit of a secret really - you can’t drive here, you can only walk to this beach along the coast path. It’s a little bit of heaven. Coal barges used to come across from Wales to this bay and donkeys would take their cargo up to the lime kilns. There even used to be cannibals living here long ago. Look it up! When they found the King of Bucks Mills, they found bones in a cave - and they weren’t animal bones. They were human! “Anyway, this place is a lovely welcome back after Covid. We are going to cook some rather nice fish landed at Appledore Quay. Real fish for real people. We’ve got five courses, starting with oysters served with some fruity green Tabasco, moving on to local lobster and a little bit of crab with mayo. “There are some amuse-bouche, like really good smoked salmon and barbecued prawns in a chilli sauce. The main course is turbot and we are going to stuff it with beautiful herbs and a few scallops…” Asked about the big controversy presently surrounding the fish-eating world since a highly critical documentary called Seaspiracy was launched on Netflix, Dan commented: “I am sure there are some awful practices going on elsewhere in the world, but the way we fish here is highly sustainable. It’s day-boat fishing and it is highly environmentally sensitive. “The fishing community started the first marine reserve around Lundy Island, long before we were asked to anything like that. And we are part of the North Devon Biosphere here,” said Dan, who always talks very passionately about sustainability. “What we need to do is rebuild the trust between the scientists, the politicians, the fishermen and others. If we don’t work in harmony, there is no future for us. “We operate a responsible fishing scheme - what we have here off the North Devon coast is good clean water and fish which are caught locally. All I do is provide a small sustainable living for myself and the fishermen. “There is a great future for us,” Dan added with his usual optimism. “And, most of all, it tastes jolly good. This is not industrial food - this is wild food which was landed yesterday afternoon. All I’ve done is loaded it into the van, and here we are. People come to me on my market stall because they trust me - people want to eat real food. We are an island nation - we’ve got a fantastic resource and if we manage it properly we can be eating it forever.” With that, we all got peeling, shucking, cleaning and cooking on the banks of a small stream which was flushing clear fresh water down onto a wild and dramatic-looking boulder beach. And it was, indeed, very good to be back. During the long dark months of lockdown I, like so many people, dreamed of spending a day with friends at the seaside. And here we were at last… Laughing, joking, getting stuck in with the preparations and eating some of the best freshest fish I’ve seen in more than 18 months. “I’ve lived here for 42 years and it’s living the dream,” said Dan, whose stall can be found at markets in Tavistock, Crediton, Bideford and South Molton. “Coastal living is wonderful and we produce some of the best food in the country in this area.” RECIPES Today’s recipes are specially suited to beach cooking on a small barbecue and they’ve been borrowed from a brilliant new cookbook by Cornish chef Emily Scott. Many readers will know that Emily recently took over the dramatic seaside restaurant which used to house Jamie Oliver’s Fifteen Cornwall, having cooked at her much-celebrated St Tudy Inn just a few miles inland for many years. The new book Sea & Shore, is a joy for anyone who lives in the West Country and who has access to the region’s superb larder. SEA & SHORE by Emily Scott is published by Hardie Grant at £26 - photography: Kim Lightbody. LOBSTER OVER FIRE WITH FINES HERBES “There is nothing better than lobsters cooked to order over coals,” writes Emily - and indeed we did just that at Dan’s seafood picnic. Serves 2 1 live lobster, about 650 g (1 lb 7 oz) 125 g (4 oz) unsalted butter, softened 2 garlic cloves, crushed 1 tablespoon olive oil zest and juice of 1 lemon 100 g (31/2 oz) tarragon, roughly chopped 100 g (31/2 oz) flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped 100 g (31/2 oz) chives, roughly chopped Cornish sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste kitchen herbs and garden salad leaves, to serve Preheat a barbecue or the grill. Place the lobster on a chopping board. Insert a large, sharp, heavy knife into the cross on the back of the head and cut down towards the tail, cutting it in half. Remove the stomach and the black intestinal tract that may run through the middle of the tail and discard. (If you prefer, buy your lobsters already cooked from a trust local purveyor like Dan the Fishman). In a small pan, melt the butter with the crushed garlic and add the olive oil, lemon zest, lemon juice and chopped herbs. Brush the lobster flesh with the butter mixture, season with salt and pepper, then place on the barbecue, place flesh-side down and cook for 4–5 minutes. Baste the lobster with the butter mixture and keep basting from time to time until it is cooked through, about 5–6 minutes further. Serve on a plate with kitchen herbs and garden leaves. Emily Scott’s MONKFISH, CORNISH CHORIZO AND SUN BLUSH TOMATOES ON ROSEMARY SKEWERS “Here, the combination of monkfish, chorizo and sun blush tomatoes is delicious,” writes Emily. “Threading them on to rosemary skewers is pretty and adds a depth of flavour to the fish.” Serves 8 1 x 200 g (7 oz) jar sun blush tomatoes, drained, reserving the oil 1 medium chorizo, about 225 g (8 oz), cut into 1 cm (1/2 in) rounds 650 g (1 lb 7 oz) monkfish fillet, cut into chunks 12 long rosemary sprigs, plus extra leaves for sprinkling 100 ml (31/2 fl oz/scant 1/2 cup) olive oil Cornish sea salt and freshly ground black pepper To serve handful of rocket (arugula) leaves hot buttered Cornish new potatoes mixed leaf salad with edible flowers Preheat a barbecue. Place the sun blush tomatoes in a large bowl and add the sliced chorizo. Using a skewer, pierce a hole through each piece of monkish, then toss in the bowl with the tomatoes and chorizo. Thread alternately onto rosemary skewers, allowing 3 pieces of each ingredient on each skewer. Barbecue the monkfish skewers on all sides, keeping them moving, for a total of 6 minutes, or until browned at the edges. Drizzle with with olive oil and sprinkle with salt, pepper and rosemary leaves. Lay the grilled monkfish skewers on rocket leaves and serve with hot buttered Cornish new potatoes and a kitchen leaf salad with summer flowers.

A Life-Changing Meeting in a Jungle Cave One hot humid day last week I found myself clambering down from mountain crag to a remote cave high above the rain-forest. I happened to know that a well-known Buddhist guru would be there and I wanted a quiet word with him. Swathed in this saffron robes he beckoned me to sit next to him and we spoke, alone together, for 15 minutes. Even a cynical old newspaper hack like me was impressed. As you’d expect, the priest had a profound, calming and tranquil air about him. “The Secret is to Know the Moment” “The secret,” he sighed, “is to know yourself and to know the moment. To slow to a complete standstill and to really know yourself in that moment.” Then he added: “Not that I will be slowing down today. After I’ve seen you lot, I’ve got to dash to the airport and fly to Switzerland.” I couldn’t help but ask… “Why are you going there? To stash all the money those rich hippies give you in an untaxed Swiss bank account?” Perhaps the heat had got to me. This is very much not the sort of thing you say to a famous guru. But the priest burst into gales of laughter. He was going to the Alps to run a series of retreats for a month, but he chuckled: “That is funny. I like your sense of humour.” Which is when I decided to give away all my worldly possessions and spend the rest of my life serving as a monk in his jungle monastery, located at the very heart of beautiful, mysterious, magical, Sri Lanka. Not really. But for a moment or two I could imagine why some people do it. Reflections from the Road: A Journey Across Sri Lanka I write about this interlude because I shall never forget those 15 minutes. But then, I shall never forget a great many other incidents that I’ve experienced and observed over the past fortnight while enjoying an extensive road-trip right around the island of Sri Lanka. There are thousands of reasons why we leave the comfort of our homes and this particular strand of weekly articles is all about the more exciting, interesting and joyous things you can do when you’re out and about. “Experiential”. If there was one word to sum up the theme, that would be it. And, as I’ve alluded, I’ve just had my most “experiential” adventure since I started writing Hesp Out West. Indeed, so filled with rich experience, excitement and adventure was my recent journey, I’m going to divide my reflections into two articles. Exploring the Road Less Travelled in Sri Lanka Why had I climbed through a rain-forest to a remote cave to meet a guru? Because it was all part of a busy, fascinating and, in some ways, extreme itinerary devised by the British Guild of Travel Writers with Sri Lankan tourism. Extreme, because we adventured into just about every corner of that beautiful island - a journey that took us along 2000 kilometres of Sri Lanka’s crazy, scenic, hazardous, demanding and mesmerising roads. The itinerary was entitled The Road Less Travelled. By day-four we had changed that to Road More Travelled. Exhausting. At times too much. But I enjoyed every fascinating, joyous, mad and moving moment of it. Cave Temples and Ancient Wisdom in Ridigama That meeting with the guru is just one example… It occurred the day after we’d arrived after a direct long-haul flight from London with the excellent Sri Lankan Airlines. After a 6am start (following a wonderful gala dinner with Sri Lankan Tourism and the amazing Jetwing Hotel group) we found ourselves several hours north of Colombo visiting the Ridi Vihare Cave Temple, a 2nd-century Theravada Buddhist complex in the village of Ridigama. We were shown around by Dr. Sinharaja Thammita, one of the country’s leading experts on Buddhist history and our day-long tour included not only rock caves and meditation, but also a visit to the centre’s Jungle Hermitage where we had a special lunch. Craft, Culture and Sri Lankan Heritage Village dancers cavorted and span, and monks showed us how the nation’s oldest written records were made, not on vellum, but on long thin fermented layers of Ola leaf. The monks demonstrated the process and let us have a go at inscribing our names on the treated leaves with needle like pens. The marks were then made permanent by a form of ink which is handmade at the temple. Sigiriya and Jetwing’s Sustainable Tourism Vision All this was followed by another two hour journey up to Sri Lanka’s most visited landmark - the spectacular citadel of Sigiriya rising sheer and impregnable out of the plains. The next day we visited this UNESCO world heritage site (built by King Kashyapa 1600 years ago), but as I wrote about the imposing Lion Rock last year I won’t deliver another lecture here. Instead I’ll say something about Jetwing Hotels, many of which we stayed in during our journey. I don’t know about you, but belting around the planet leaves me with enough environmental guilt as it is, but sometimes the effects of tourism are enough to make you bow your head in shame. Not with Jetwing you won’t. Eco-Conscious Hospitality with Jetwing Hotels The family-owned group goes further than any other hotel corporation I’ve encountered to put sustainability at the forefront of its operations. After we’d spent our first night at the company’s beautiful Jetwing Lagoon Wellness complex at Nelumbo (near Colombo), we settled in for a couple of nights at the Jetwing Lake, set in a lush 18 acre park not far from the touristy area of Sigiriya. Plenty to do and see around there, I can assure you - but we were also given a tour of the hotel’s sewerage system, power plants and water filtration works. Despite my misgivings, I was hugely impressed. Many of their properties have wastewater treatment plants and onsite biogas digesters to deal with food waste. They have banned single-use plastics, they filter the local water in-house to make it healthy and drinkable (rather than import branded drinking water), they even have a state-of-the-art reed-bed system to help clean the sewerage. Added to that, Jetwing Lake also obtains a great deal of its power from sustainable fuel sources such as off-cuts from the cinnamon industry, which help to power its generators, as does a large solar farm in the grounds. And they grow most of their own fruit and veg. Rural Life and Elephant Encounters We were taken to the nearby “eco-village” of Hiriwadunna (via oxen cart) where we enjoyed an organic lunch in an open-sided village house prepared by local women. There was also a boat ride across a wonderful lily-filled lake where the boatman made use weird and wonderful hats made from the leaves and flowers of water plants. Very cooling they were too on such a hot day. A tuk-tuk ride through forest paths took us back to the main road. We also went on the obligatory elephant safari in Habarana’s Hurulu Eco Park and duly saw a great many gentle giants wandering wild and free across. Northern Adventures and Southern Soul After two nights at Jetwing Lake we travelled north and I’m going to leave that part of the journey until next week as the upper half of Sri Lanka really is the road less travelled. It was the part most badly hit by the civil war - moreover, geographically and physically the area around Jaffna is very different from the south. So I’ll round off by talking about our final journey to the southern tip of the island, by which I mean the area around Matara and Galle. Tsunami Memorial and Galle Fort Readers may recall that the coast here was badly hit by the tsunami of 2004. So much has been written about it and the 40,000 plus victims who lost their lives I’ll not go into the disaster here. However, if you ever visit the area, do visit the Tsunami Honganji Viharaya, a Buddhist temple on the coast where a 30-metre tall statue will take your breath away. In a bad way. Why? Because it was built to show people just how terrifyingly high the wave was which hit the coast. It’s a miracle there were any survivors at all. Luxury and Local Impact at Malabar Hills Inland at Matara we had lunch at the lovely Malabar Hills hotel, which is very much an experiential kind of place, offering activities like bird watching and nature trekking (besides serving some of the best food in Sri Lanka). The hotel is involved with projects designed to employ and better the lives of local people - a wonderful thing in a country like Sri Lanka where money is short and wages are low. Batik-Making and Boutique Hotels in Galle One of the projects is a batik “factory” where local women produce beautiful designs to supply to the nation’s burgeoning fashion industry. And, of course, being a hotel led project we, as guests, were invited to have a lesson - which I thought would be a little boring and unnecessary in the heat but which turned out to be great fun. I am proud of my little square of batik which now sits on my desk. At Galle we did the usual things (looked around the old town and walked along the fortress walls). It’s a pleasant town - a tad touristy but interesting and lovely all the same. We also met up with our excellent guide, Danushka Weerasekara of Blue Lanka Tours, and he’d brought his lovely family into town to meet us. It was a joy and an honour to meet the family of this most intelligent and helpful of men. I’d happily spend a few days there next time I’m in Sri Lanka, maybe at the excellent Jetwing Lighthouse, a luxury resort perched on sea-cliffs just a mile north of town. A four night B&B stay there for two next week would cost around £455 - just over 50 quid each - not bad for such a high-end place. You could also stay up the coast at a delightful boutique hotel run by an Englishman and his Belgian wife. The Calamansi Cove resort is select and very beautiful - and it has one of the only safe beaches for swimmers along the entire coast. Ending the Journey in Colombo’s Skyline Our grand tour was rounded off with a stay at yet another Jetwing - this time the Jetwing Colombo Seven - a high-rise but extremely comfortable billet located in the heart of the capital, complete with rooftop bar and an adjacent infinity pool. The view you enjoy while swimming there is breathtaking - but so too was everything on this trip, and I haven’t yet told you the half of it… Parking at Heathrow It is 160 miles to Heathrow from our West Country base, so I booked meet and greet parking at the airport with the Holiday Extras group. Their system is cheap and easy to use - I’d recommend them if you are ever having to park near one of the airports they service. https://www.holidayextras.com/ If you’re visiting Sri Lanka do consider using our tour guides Blue Lanka Tours, they are among the best in the business - https://www.bluelankatours.com/ And if you are after a really luxurious stay while you are in such a hot and busy country, consider Jetwing Hotels - they are truly fantastic with their highly sustainable practices and the have properties all over the country. https://www.jetwinghotels.com/

Few places in Britain inspire quite the devotion of St Ives. Famed for its golden beaches, bustling harbour, world-class art galleries and winding granite streets, this Cornish town has long been regarded as one of the country's most beautiful seaside destinations. I have put the article up here because, in some ways, it now acts almost as a historic document. St Ives has changed quite a bit since I went there for my Hesp’s Harbours series, which appeared in the Western Morning News for a whole year. The Magic of St Ives , Cornwall The harbour at St Ives must be one of the most celebrated havens to feature on Britain's proud roster of picture-perfect ports and, judging by the crowds that fill its narrow cobbled streets throughout the year, it's certainly one of the most visited—even if it is at the far end of the West Country peninsula. Perhaps it's the perfect pale golden sand that draws them in. Maybe it's to do with all those artists who've done so much to promote the town's wonderful intensity of light. Or possibly it's the salty, maritime charm which the place exudes with more panache and exotic mystique than a dozen other, more nautical ports. Why Tourists Love Visiting St Ives You could almost draw an analogy with one of those big Premiership football clubs that attracts supporters from all over the world. Come rain or shine, the fans pass through the turnstiles in their droves. It's a magic no one can quite explain. St Ives is like that. On a Tuesday morning in a grey drizzle, it will have more faithful enthusiasts plodding its cobbled streets, munching its pasties, observing its art, hiring its motorboats, drinking its ale, throwing money into its arcades, purchasing its sometimes awful Cornish gifts, riding its waves, castellating its sand and generally soaking up the atmosphere of all things Cornish and shanty-esque than any other port in the West. Iconic Things to Do in St Ives To many tourists, a visit to Cornwall's far west that did not include a dawdle along The Digey, a paddle on Porthmeor, a carouse in Carbis Bay, or a saunter on Smeaton's Pier would be like partaking of a very good dinner without a bottle of wine. The place is quite literally an icon of the seaside. It is a living, working theme park that seems to say: "I've got more salt in me veins than a dozen Polperros or Looes." The Disappearing Pilchard Industry of St Ives And it's a clever con trick because the very essence that makes St Ives sing like a mental sea-shanty is no longer there. The massive pilchard industry which shaped the picturesque Downlong area of town has completely disappeared. This was where the poorer fishermen lived among their many curing sheds and net lofts, as opposed to the "Uplong" area where the well-to-do merchants, sea captains, and professionals once based themselves. A Saint, a Sandbank, and the Origins of St Ives If you had visited "Downlong" before the Irish martyr St. Ia landed here more than a millennium ago, you'd have found very little but a sand bank stretching across to the Island which is nowadays one of St Ives' best known landmarks. The sand bank separated Porthmeor Beach from what is now the harbour and it was here that St Ia washed up. She was to give the place its name and in some ways it is typical of the ephemeral and mysterious quality of St Ives that she should arrive riding upon a leaf. Most of those Irish saints crossed the sea on inflated cow's stomachs or hurdles. St Ia chose a leaf. But she ended up the same way as all her saintly pals. "Off with her head!" roared Theodoric, King of Cornwall. And then all that was left was a name to bestow upon a tiny fishing village and later a parish church. How St Ives Rose in Prominence So much for early history. It was Lelant, just two miles along the coast, which played Big Brother in those days, and continued to do so until the restless sands of the Towans blew in and strangled its growth. Then at last, St Ives could grab the limelight, partly thanks to the wonderfully named Lord Broke, who had acquired the local manor and who, in 1488, managed to get a charter for a weekly market and two annual fairs. A Dark Moment in Cornish Rebellion History Lord Broke! I'll bet he wasn't — broke, I mean — and he's sure to have been a good deal more fortunate than wretched John Payne, who was Portreeve (mayor) during the so-called Prayer Book Rebellion. That was when Cornishmen lay siege to Exeter in protest at the new English liturgy. Not a good idea. They were beaten back and when Sir Anthony Kingston came hot on their heels relieving the county of these trouble-makers, Payne went to great lengths to mollify him by diplomacy. His efforts cost him dear. He treated Sir Anthony to a huge dinner at the George and Dragon, only to be told to have some gallows erected while they ate… The Glory Days of Pilchard Fishing in St Ives So let's leave politics and religion behind and make our way back through the teeming crowds to the good honest St Ives harbourside. At least here, you might think to yourself, things would have been quieter in days of old. Not a bit of it. The place was absolutely alive with a million flapping, glinting, silver-sided fish and alive too with the frenzied actions of the men whose job it was to catch them. I'm talking about the seasonal pilchard trade which would see vast shoals entering the bay, the traditional hue and cry from the cliff-tops, and the furious efforts of nearly 1000 men on more than 400 boats. Pilchard Chaos: A First-Hand Account Here's an eye-witness description of the scene written in 1890 by a Mr Anthony, part of an exhibition in the town's excellent museum: "I have seen more than 100,000 hogsheads in St Ives bay at one time. Such a scene can never be forgotten – white bushes waving everywhere, trumpets roaring, a network of 'seans' across the bay and boats spinning about like a regatta." When you consider that a hogshead was a cask designed to hold 3,000 pilchards, you get some idea of the colossal shoals. The "white bushes" were semaphores used by the huers—men on the cliffs directing the boats. Further Reading: Explore More of Cornwall If you enjoyed discovering St Ives, you may also like these Cornwall guides: 👉 The West Country Beaches I Love Mosthttps://www.martinhespfoodandtravel.com/post/the-west-country-beaches-i-love-most 👉 Bude Beach Walk: Crooklets, Northcott Mouth and Summerleaze Downshttps://www.martinhespfoodandtravel.com/post/bude-beach-walk-crooklets-northcott-mouth-and-summerleaze-downs 👉 Cornish Walk: Talland Bay to Polperrohttps://www.martinhespfoodandtravel.com/post/cornish-walks-talland-bay-to-polperro 👉 Classic Afternoon Tea on a Cornish Islandhttps://www.martinhespfoodandtravel.com/post/classic-afternoon-tea-but-on-a-cornish-island 👉 Catch of the Day in the Isles of Scilly: Seafood from Britain's Atlantic Edgehttps://www.martinhespfoodandtravel.com/post/catch-of-the-day-in-the-isles-of-scilly-seafood-from-britain-s-atlantic-edge 👉 Discover Cornwall and the Isles of Scillyhttps://www.martinhespfoodandtravel.com/blog/categories/devon-cornwall--somerset Visit the St Ives Museum and Relive Fishing History The huers also blew massive trumpets to alert fishermen. Visitors to St Ives museum, located on Wheal Dream, can see one of these ear-splitting devices. There’s also a wide variety of pilchard industry relics—including wooden shovels, original fish presses, and exquisite sepia photographs by Lander Elvin Comley. A Modern Harbour with a Historic Soul "There's not a pilchard left," sighs St Ives harbour master Eric Ward, who now manages the harbour where he once fished. "Not a single pilchard have I seen in this bay for years. The sea around here used to go a sort of reddish colour there were so many of them." But pilchards are not the only fish to have vanished. "There are about 30 full-time or part-time fishermen working out of St Ives now, and some have to do other jobs like flower-picking to make ends meet," says Eric. Does he miss it? "No I do not. Not the way it is nowadays. I'm lucky, this is a wonderful harbour and I suppose in a way it's a bit unique. It's got clear water and perfect sand so the visitors use it like a beach. I have a bit of a balancing act to perform – it's still a working harbour and at the same time we like to make sure the holiday makers are happy." St Ives Harbour Today: A Living Seaside Legacy Imagine the mayhem if they were still landing three million pilchards at a time among the tourists and sun-bathers… Nowadays it's more likely to be a couple of buckets of mackerel. But when they've all gone and the last St Ives fisherman hangs up his pots and nets, the place will still exude the atmosphere of a sea-shanty, and it will still be packed with people who've travelled hundreds of miles just to sniff the smell of the ocean and dream of salty days of yore. Frequently Asked Questions About St Ives, Cornwall Where is St Ives in Cornwall? St Ives is situated on Cornwall's spectacular north coast, overlooking St Ives Bay. Around 10 miles west of Hayle and 30 miles from Truro, it is one of the county's most picturesque seaside towns and a popular base for exploring west Cornwall. Why is St Ives so famous? St Ives is renowned for its stunning beaches, picturesque harbour, thriving art scene and rich fishing heritage. It has inspired generations of artists and is home to the internationally acclaimed Tate St Ives, while its narrow cobbled streets, independent shops and waterfront cafés make it one of Britain's favourite holiday destinations. Is St Ives worth visiting? Absolutely. Whether you're interested in history, art, coastal walks, wildlife, watersports or simply relaxing beside the sea, St Ives offers something for everyone. Its unique blend of natural beauty and Cornish character makes it one of the highlights of any visit to Cornwall. What are the best beaches in St Ives? St Ives is blessed with several outstanding beaches, each with its own character. Porthmeor Beach is popular with surfers, Porthminster Beach is ideal for families, Harbour Beach offers traditional seaside charm, while Porthgwidden provides a quieter, sheltered spot for swimming and relaxation. What are the best things to do in St Ives? Visitors can explore the historic harbour, browse independent galleries and boutiques, visit Tate St Ives, walk the spectacular South West Coast Path, take a boat trip to spot seals or dolphins, enjoy fresh Cornish seafood or simply relax on one of the town's beautiful beaches. When is the best time to visit St Ives? St Ives is beautiful throughout the year. Spring and autumn often provide the best combination of pleasant weather and fewer visitors, while summer brings a lively atmosphere and long days perfect for beach holidays. Winter offers dramatic coastal scenery and a quieter, more peaceful experience. How do you get to St Ives? Many visitors drive to St Ives, but the scenic branch railway from St Erth is widely regarded as one of Britain's most beautiful train journeys. During the busy summer months, the St Erth Park and Ride service is often the easiest way to reach the town. Is parking difficult in St Ives? Parking can be limited during the summer season, so using one of the Park and Ride facilities at St Erth is highly recommended. It avoids traffic congestion and allows visitors to enjoy the spectacular train journey into the town. Is St Ives good for walking? Yes. St Ives is surrounded by some of Cornwall's finest coastal scenery. Walkers can enjoy sections of the South West Coast Path, including routes towards Zennor, Carbis Bay and Lelant, with breathtaking views across the Atlantic. Is St Ives suitable for families? Very much so. Safe sandy beaches, rock pools, boat trips, wildlife cruises, cafés, ice cream parlours and family-friendly attractions make St Ives an excellent destination for visitors of all ages. Can you visit Tate St Ives? Yes. Tate St Ives celebrates the town's remarkable artistic heritage and showcases both modern and contemporary art. Its stunning location overlooking Porthmeor Beach makes it one of Cornwall's most popular cultural attractions. What food is St Ives famous for? Fresh seafood is a highlight, with local restaurants serving everything from crab and lobster to freshly landed fish. Visitors can also enjoy traditional Cornish pasties, cream teas and artisan ice cream while exploring the harbour and waterfront. How many days should I spend in St Ives? A long weekend is enough to experience the town's main attractions, but spending four or five days allows time to enjoy the beaches, coastal walks, galleries and nearby villages without feeling rushed. Is St Ives one of the most beautiful towns in Cornwall? Many people would say yes. With its turquoise waters, golden beaches, granite cottages, bustling fishing harbour and thriving artistic community, St Ives consistently ranks among the most beautiful seaside towns in both Cornwall and the whole of Britain. Planning Your Visit to St Ives Include just five or six bullet points: Nearest railway station: St Ives (via St Erth branch line) Nearest airport: Newquay Cornwall Airport Best months to visit: April to June and September Ideal stay: 3–5 days Perfect for: Families, walkers, food lovers, artists and photographers Don't miss: Watching the sunset from Porthmeor Beach

The antidote I needed to a few hot and busy days in Ho Chi Minh City was supplied by Les Rives, a company that provides thrilling speedboat journeys down the Saigon River to the Mekong Delta. This unique experience offers travellers a glimpse into a different side of Vietnam - one that is as fascinating as it is sobering. From the water, you can witness a stark contrast to the modernity of the city centre as the boat speeds its way past canals lined with sprawling slums. These areas are a striking reminder of the challenges faced by many. Yet, for those staying in the city’s luxurious District One, this journey provides an important and essential perspective, highlighting the edge of industrial progress where poverty and struggle persist. The boat-ride is a mix of speed and maneuverability, as the skipper cuts his craft down the river with ease. As you move further from the city, the air grows more fresh, and the sights become greener, gradually transporting you into an entirely different world. The journey is exhilarating, and the sense of adventure is heightened by the changing landscape. Witnessing the Contrasts Along the Saigon River Soon, you find yourself in the heart of the Mekong Delta, a place that feels like a totally different world. This extraordinary region is characterised by its intricate network of waterways and its lush, fertile land. Here, the locals live in harmony with the environment, navigating their daily lives in often flooded flatlands. They seem to exist at a subsistence level, but manage to exude an equable and cheerful spirit. This resilience and optimism are, from what I could make out, hallmarks of the Vietnamese people, and nowhere is it more evident than in the Delta. Lunch in this watery area is a memorable experience. Les Rives takes you to a local farm where the rich, alluvial soils produce an astonishing variety of crops. The meal, prepared fresh on-site, is a farm-to-table feast featuring locally grown fruits, vegetables, and freshly caught fish. It’s a culinary journey that complements the visual and cultural exploration of the region. The farm also provides an opportunity to meet the people who sustain this vibrant ecosystem and learn about their way of life. Les Rives plays a vital role in supporting the local economy by employing teams of residents who assist with its tours. This collaboration ensures that the benefits of tourism extend directly to the community, making the experience not only enjoyable but also meaningful. Interesting Facts About the Mekong Delta Population: The greater Mekong Delta area is home to approximately 17 million people, making it one of the most densely populated areas in Vietnam. Geography: Known as the "Rice Bowl of Vietnam," the region covers around 40,500 square kilometers of fertile, low-lying land interlaced with rivers, canals, and swamps. Agriculture: The Mekong Delta produces more than half of Vietnam's rice, making it a crucial area for the country's food security. Other major agricultural outputs include tropical fruits like mangoes, bananas, coconuts, and dragon fruit, as well as shrimp and fish from aquaculture. Floating Markets: The region is famous for its floating markets, such as Cai Rang and Phong Dien, where traders sell fruits, vegetables, and other goods directly from their boats. Cuisine: Popular dishes include bun rieu (a crab and tomato noodle soup), ca kho to (caramelized fish in clay pot), and banh xeo (crispy Vietnamese pancakes filled with shrimp and pork). The Delta is also known for its fresh tropical fruits and coconut-based desserts. Biodiversity: The Mekong Delta is a biodiversity hotspot with unique flora and fauna, including endangered species like the Irrawaddy dolphin and giant catfish. Lifestyle: Many residents live in stilt houses or floating homes, adapting to the frequent flooding in the area. Transportation: The region relies heavily on waterways for transportation, with small boats and ferries being a primary mode of travel. Climate Challenges: The Delta faces threats from rising sea levels, saltwater intrusion, and unpredictable weather patterns due to climate change, impacting its agriculture and livelihoods. Cultural Significance: The Mekong Delta is a melting pot of Vietnamese, Khmer, and Chinese influences, reflected in its festivals, architecture, and traditions.