Heading out first to Portwrinkle, some treasure had been hidden on a cliff path overlooking the sea, but we were unlucky this time around. No matter how hard we looked, read the extra clues again, and paced out our steps to the supposed hiding place, the stash remained hidden. The village itself was nice enough, though, with the remains of its 17th century pilchard cellars down on the grey sand beach, and the coastal and cliff walks, weaving their was through the largely unspoilt countryside.

Portwrinkle

Stumped by the first cache, we decided to cut our losses and drive back to the coastal town of Saltash to hunt out the second. We found the place easy enough, but were to be disappointed again, as children were playing in the dried-up river right where the GPS told us the treasure was hidden. Time wasn’t on our side, so deciding to possibly return, we headed back to the holiday cottage to enjoy a family lunch.

The town of Saltash is nice enough, though not as scenic as some of the places we’ve been. In fact, the thing of most interest to us was the railway bridge gracefully spanning the river Tamar. Built by Isambard Kingdom Brunel, and opened in 1859 by Prince Albert, it is beautiful in an industrial, functional sort of a way. Actually an iron suspension bridge in two spans, it still carries trains and their passengers before they snake their way through the ever-changing Cornish countryside of lush green fields, trees, rivers and viaducts.

It’s worth noting that the much modern Tamar Bridge which sits alongside Brunel’s is nowhere near as striking to look at. Built as recently as 1961 for cars and pedestrians, it put the river’s ferries out of business, but at the same time gives many more drivers and walkers an easier entry point into the county.

(I’m afraid there are no pictures of the Brunel’s Royal Albert Bridge, as when we did try to capture it on camera, the lighting wasn’t the best, eve though it had been all week.)

Our activities for tomorrow have much the same familiarity about them. Staying local again for our final full day, we intend to introduce the family to the countryside tramping that is geocaching, at a reportedly easy find at Pillaton (and maybe fitting in another one in back at Saltash), before enjoying the rest of the day. The end of our time away has come so quickly, but we can’t say that we haven’t made the most of the days we’ve had here. We’ve seen some stunning scenery and been to some remarkable places, all of which have left us with handfuls of memories to take home.

It’s been a truly relaxing break in every sense of the word, and although we have next week holidaying at home, it will still be sad to leave on Monday morning. I didn’t really know what I expected Britain’s most south western corner to offer, but I do know that it didn’t disappoint. And, I’m pretty sure of one thing; we’ll undoubtedly be back.

If horticulture and nature is your thing, then you really must pay a visit to the Eden Project; it’s what we did today. Now one of the top ten visitor attractions in the country (with over 8 million visitors since it opened in 2001), the former giant clay pit just outside St Austell is home to endless families of flora and fauna from all over the world.

As the plants and seasons dictate, the place is continually changing, and this seems to be one of the reasons why visitors pay an entry fee of £14, which allows multiple visits in any one year. A fantastic site, the deep-sided bowl lends itself well to be a home for the largest greenhouse in the world, and seemingly endless crescent-shaped terraces, growing all sorts of common garden vegetables and herbs, and more exotic species. Of course, the huge sci-fi looking biomes are the recognisable faces of the Eden Project, but, in fact over 75% of the plants there grow on the outdoor terraces.

Bananas grow in the humid tropics biome

But, it was the biomes that we really wanted to see. There are only two, but as each one is divided in appearance into three, the visitor is fooled into thinking there are six. As with almost all Eden’s visitors, we headed to the larger biome first.

Home to plants normally found in humid and tropical climates, a steamy, jungle atmosphere is maintained, which allows exotic species such as banana trees, coffee bushes, pineapples, rubber trees, sugar cane, and vanilla to be grown. A large cascading waterfall runs literally runs down the centre from the top of the building, while foliage-lined sandy walkways weave their way through region-specific displays.

Although we expected it to be warm as the biome is a home to all manner of plants from the warmer climates, we weren’t quite prepared for how hot it actually was. And, I mean hot. At the top, it is sweat-dripping, and shirt-stickingly hot.

To be fair, the cool room half way around, and emergency exits should have given us a clue. It’s not just heat, though, as the humidity is just as overbearing. It certainly feels warmer than the 28 degrees it is reportedly to be. But, as we walked down and descended the paths through the biome, we regained some sort of a sense of a normal temperature.

It’s hot, hot, hot in the humid tropics biome

While the temperate biome is smaller, it is still impressive. Home to species from the Mediterranean, South Africa, and Southern California, citrus fruit rub leaves with olive trees, vegetables, and colourful flowers. Set out with Spanish-style white walls and terraces, it contrasts well with the jungle and ramshackle buildings in its larger brother. One thing was common in both biomes, though; the atmosphere was relaxed, and there was plenty of room to walk around, without jostling with other visitors to see any of the exhibits. And in these modern times, that is something to be applauded.

Another attraction that forms part of the Eden experience is The Core – Eden’s home for education, and already listed as one of the UK’s top ten buildings for using renewable energy – while the yet-to-be-built The Edge will highlight the oncoming water crisis, changes in energy supply, and impacts of climate change. To be built in a yet-to-be-reclaimed part of the pit at Bodelva, the go-ahead may be given soon.

The Eden Project was created as ‘a global garden to explore our place in nature’, and I think it is just that. The relaxed atmosphere, wealth of plants, biomes, and good food in naturalistic and ecological surroundings all meant that we certainly enjoyed our day there. And, we will look forward to walking around the gardens of Eden once again.

Torquay marina 
 
Torquay makes up part of the ‘jewel’ on the south coast along with its neighbouring towns of Brixham and Paignton. Choosing which resort to visit was tricky, but in the end, Agatha Christie’s birthplace lured us with its promise of palm trees, grand villas built into the hills, Edwardian splendour, and Victorian glamour. We’re glad it did.

The town became a favourite of the holidaying public in the mid-1800s, when the arrival of Brunel’s Great Western Railway brought Victorian passengers seeking the convalescing and healthy lifestyle which the now-fashionable town promoted. How I would have liked to have seen the beaches lined with beach huts wheeled out to celebrate the sun, giving the town’s residents one of the highest classes of living.

Nine beaches, an international marina, and many shopping outlets still lure day-trippers and fashionistas today. We certainly enjoyed ourselves, whether walking along the stylish pier, eating our lunch under the shady trees on the seafront, or trying to spot the Gleneagles Hotel, which provided inspiration for the BBC series Fawlty Towers. Famed for its watersports (and even host to the water-based events for the 1948 summer Olympics), it really is a pleasant place to spend a few hours.

Victorian elegance on Torquay pier

The pier must be one of the best I’ve ever walked on, its endless Victorian and 1920s glamour conjuring up all sorts of images of ladies walking spinning their parasols, talking to gentleman wearing striped blazers and straw boaters. It really does tell of a Christie-esque period, with its white-painted slender bench rails and domed lanterns all suggesting a Poirot-like scene from one of the ‘Queen of Crime’s’ novels. But, soon enough, we had to move onto our next and final destination of the day.

Set on the banks of the estuary of the River Dart, Dartmouth has a reputation as ‘the jewel in Devon’s crown’ (just like Torquay, then). I can see why. With rolling countryside overlooking the river, a harbour full of colourful pleasure boats, and the 17th-century Butterwalk shopping area with its impressive restored timber-framed façade and narrow streets, Dartmouth is every bit as scenic and as its name and South Hams location suggests. Famous for the Britannia Royal Naval College, and set in the South Devon area of outstanding natural beauty, a visit is highly recommended.

Dartmouth harbour is a colourful haven for sailors

We arrived at the town via the car ferry, which departs from Kingswear, on the banks opposite, and crosses the Dart to Dartmouth itself. Similar to the old service which used to run from Reedham to Great Yarmouth in Norfolk, it brought back many happy memories. And, as we sat on the Embankment enjoying our tea and chocolate, our legs dangling over the edge, like so many other places in this corner of Britain, we could have been in yet another quiet Mediterranean resort, so blue was the water.

Dartmouth High Ferry

With the sun sparkling on the water and the steam train coming into Kingswear station (Dartmouth has a station, built before local opposition moved the proposed line to Kingswear, and is reported to be the only place in the world with a purpose-built railway station which has never seen a train), it really was another idyllic afternoon, and again we left feeling relaxed, and ready for tomorrow’s adventures.

Today was going to be a bit of an epic one, and certainly the busiest of the break so far, possibly of the holiday itself. We planned to explore the whole of the west of the county, taking in St Ives on the north coast, Land’s End in the south western corner (and the western most point in England), St Michael’s Mount and Lizard Point on the south coast (Lizard Point being the southern most part of the UK), and the Goonhilly Downs, to see giant satellite dishes against a sunset sky.

St Ives had come recommended by a fair few people, although we were disappointed with our first stop of the day. We had to park in a very crowded and expensive car park, overlooking the harbour, which is actually more than a fair walk away. When you we did get there, the little beach and harbour wasn’t as pretty as some we’ve seen this week, and the place is full of seagulls.

Now, this wouldn’t be quite so bad in itself, as the birds seem to be part and parcel of Cornish ports and fishing villages, but the ones at St Ives seemed almost of a different breed (and not a nice one). As day-trippers made sandcastles on the golden sands beneath our promenade seat, I had tomato stolen out of my baguette sandwich, twice. With a swoop of which a superhero would be proud, the blatantly upfront and hungry seagull glided in and picked the fruit of the bread in a carefully calculated move.

The rest of the town was pleasant enough, just nothing special, and even the Tate St Ives didn’t tempt us in, as unlike London, entry isn’t free. I wonder if the man and his seven wives from the nursery rhyme actually knew where he was going, and wasn’t in fact going to this St Ives at all?

Motoring down to Land’s End, we stumbled across an old tin mine in the countryside. Scores of these litter the Cornish green fields and hills, and while this one provided us with a few pictures, we were keen to move on. We had a lot to fit in after all, and it was already close to lunchtime.

St Ives tin mine

We’d been told not to go to Land’s End, but as we were close, we thought we’d give it a look. But, those friends’ tales of a tourist trap seemed to be true. Lots of cars turning around from an expensive car park told their own story, and while there were many more visitors actually inside the complex and behind the barriers, we decided to seek out our own version of the great landmark later in the day, when we’d visit Lizard Point.

It may not be either the western most point in the UK, or even remotely as famous, but it is a notable landmark being the southern most part of the UK, and stunning scenery with no tourists would prove too much of a peaceful haven to miss.

Driving further along the coast, we stopped at Porthcurno. An unexpected stop, we weren’t really prepared for it to wow us as much as it did. Our favourite beach of the break so far, its golden sands really are golden, made up from tiny shell fragments, extending below the water line, giving the clear water a glossy, turquoise appearance. The contrasting granite cliffs hold anther secret; the Minack Theatre is the most famous cliff theatre in Britain.

The golden beach at Porthcurno Bay

It’s hard to take this fact in, but it was reportedly made by hand by Rowena Cade in Victorian times, and although we didn’t see it for ourselves, the pictures we have seen would seemingly tell another story. Carved into the cliff overlooking Porthcurno Bay and the beach, the theatre can be accessed by a dangerous and rocky cliff path, which although a little hairy at times, is well worth the climb. The views out to the Channel and to the moderately empty beach below are truly stunning.

Stairs on the cliff face to the Minack Theatre

Porthcurno is also well-known on communication circles, as the first undersea cable was laid by a cable ship from the cove to Bombay in 1870, which instantly connected the British Empire to the rest of the world. By 1900 Porthcurno had the largest telegraph station in the world, and during the Second World War its strategic importance led to the construction of secret underground tunnels, which now house the Porthcurno Telegraph Museum. Breathtaking scenery, an almost empty beach, and the freshest, most sparkling sea make this place a must visit on any Cornish trip.

The tidal island of St Michael’s Mount was as pretty as it is in pictures, even though we had cloudy weather for picture-taking and couldn’t get across the causeway, due to high tides (even though we’d checked our tide tables first).

The causeway links the imposing outpost to the coastal town of Marazion on the mainland, and although it is still owned by the St Aubyn family, visitors can explore the island courtesy of the National Trust. It was shame the tide was out, as we would have liked to have seen more, but as time was precious today, we gazed out to sea, and contented ourselves with its rich history.

St Michael’s Mount in the afternoon cloud

A draw for Pilgrims as early as the 15th century (just like Lindisfarne which we visited earlier in the year), a castle and chapel sit atop the granite pyramid. Historically linked to the similar Mont St Michel in Brittany by way of visions of the archangel, it was a spectacularly eerie yet calm sight in the mid-afternoon sun, with the cloud-darkened sky, the dank-looking sea lapping the shore, and large birds circling the mount itself.

The Lizard Peninsula is an area of land measuring 14 miles by 14 miles further east along the southern coast. Famous for its local serpentine stone, some villages still have serpentine turners working during the season, even though the fashion for ornaments made from the metamorphic rock died out in the Victorian times. We journeyed to the southern most point of the peninsula, and indeed the UK, and by the time we’d reached Lizard Point, the sun had started its descent below the horizon.

We reckoned that we had at least an hour before if disappeared altogether, and so did a planned geocache (dropping off a travel bug to start its journey around the country), and stood on the cliffs to take a few pictures of the burgeoning sunset. I love a good sunset, and this was one of the best I’ve ever seen.

Snapping the Lizard Point sunset

Just like Porthcurno, Lizard Point isn’t swamped by tourists, and as the craggy rocks and calm waters were lit by the fading sun, silence was literally all that could (or couldn’t) be heard. The lapping of the waves was almost hypnotic, and the sunset was glorious. It was one of the best – and most romantic – moments of the holiday, and will stay burned in my memory for a very long time.

Before the sun disappeared, we made a dash to the car, for our appointment with the satellite dishes on the Goonhilly Downs. We had have to move fast, though, as the sun was fading fast.

Owned by BT, the Goonhilly Earth Station dominates the skyline from some distance away and is the largest satellite tracking establishment in Europe. Over 60 dishes track geo-stationery satellites 36,000km away in space, and the largest (and first-built) dish, Arthur, is 46m high, and weighs 1,100 tonnes. Now Grade II listed, it is now protected against any closure plans which may threaten the site.

Sunset at Goonhilly Earth Station

As stunning on the landscape as any natural beauty we’ve seen this week, the silence of the downs was punctuated by the occasional whirr of these huge space communicators, as they turned to get the best signal beamed back down to them.

Did we get our pictures? Arriving a little too late, unfortunately the dishes were set back from the perimeter fences by quite some distance, and were facing the wrong way to catch any sun at this time of day, be it golden orange, or not. But, it didn’t matter; it was arguably more memorable to see them at that time of the day, in the silence.

We didn’t stay long, though. As the deserted road snaked past us, to the dark pink skies in the distance, we soon headed along it. We had a lot of villages to drive through before we got home. It might have been a long and tiring day, but it was a very memorable one, too.

After yesterday’s full day of excursions in the north of the county, we decided to take things a little easier today, and visit places recommended by friends, who had previously holidayed to the area. And, with some sort of synchronicity, in contrast with yesterday’s proceedings, both the villages of Fowey and Mevagissey are on Cornwall’s south coast.

Fowey really is a delightful place to visit. Between Looe and Mevagissey, and sharing the shores of the River Fowey with Poluran, its most spectacular aspect must be its natural harbour, which can attract up to 7,000 yachts in any one season. Much of the village is built on steep cliff foundations, and the higgledy-piggledy nature of the houses on various levels, all jostling with each other for harbour views is very scenic. As we climbed up behind pastel-painted houses above the quay, and peeped out over the rooftops of neighbouring dwellings below, the vistas out to the English Channel were superb. There’s no doubt about it; this county offers so much to the eye.

Rooftops at Fowey

The rest of the village is a mixture of winding streets, lined with both traditional and boutique shops. Not finding much to take home with us, we stopped for lunch and the largest Cornish pasty of the holiday so far. Sitting by and looking out on the harbour, we both felt really relaxed, and commented that, in common with other Cornish villages by the sea, if the sun is out, and it’s warm, the we could have been somewhere in Mediterranean Europe, with the sun glistening down on the calm water.

Also a major port of the exporting of China clay, Fowey does have to be visited with caution, though. If you’re of a non-hilly disposition, the village is not for you. Those terraced layers of pastel-painted houses may look very hilly, but they are punishing for the legs. All is not lost, though, as a bus will gladly take passengers from the main car park high in the village, down to the quay and harbour area at the bottom.

Mevagissey harbour

Like Fowey, Mevagissey is a place of winding streets and cottages built into the cliffs above the harbour. It’s easy to dismiss all Cornish villages as one and the same, but in reality, they are all quite different. Mevagissey boats the only double harbour in Cornwall, for example, and although we had our doubts when we arrived, these were soon dispelled as we took a late afternoon stroll in the sun, with an almost cloudless blue sky above us.

As the fishing boats bobbed up and down in the inner harbour, and provided platforms on which the seagulls played, the large birds would occasionally stop for a quick dip in the salty water, before circling high in the air if the merest hint of fish odour was wafted from the harbour’s own ice house. Mevagissey still plays host to catches of fish and shellfish, a long-standing and once-rich trade plied in a great many of the places we’ve visited over the last few days.

So, two charming and pretty villages, and another warm day spent in the sun. Is it likely to get better? With more places to visit, and good weather stretching into most of the week, who knows? One thing is for sure, though; it really does feel like we’re on holiday.

Made famous by legendary author Dame Daphne du Maurier’s novel of the same name, Jamaica Inn has stood on the moors between Bodmin and Launceston since 1750. Previously a coaching inn, travellers at the time would have stayed in Jamaica’s dark, dimly-lit bedrooms, which were also used to hide away all sorts of smugglers’ treasure, taken from the Cornish and Devon coasts. In a synchronistic twist, I began to read the book at the start of the break, and so was keen to see if the modern-day incarnation was as dark and brooding as its fictional counterpart seems.

Reading Jamaica Inn at Jamaica Inn

Disappointingly, the real Jamaica Inn is now somewhat of a tourist trap, cashing in on du Maurier’s legacy. A museum tells the tale of the great storyteller in tableaux, light, and sound, and boasts a memorabilia room including her supposed writing desk. The Smuggler’s and Pedlar’s Bars provide further links to the fictional story of Mary Yellan and the dark and grotesque characters that surround her.

I can quite imagine that the place was the real-life inspiration for the novel (du Maurier having stopped there), but on a sunny September morning, its unforgiving reputation seemed ill-deserved. On a dark and dank winter’s night, though, things could be quite different…

A fleeting walk around the car park and posing for a few pictures, meant that we on our way again soon, heading out on the A30 to Newquay. Traditionally the surfers’ paradise, we expected lots of golden sands and breaking waves, and while these were all there, so were the many bars and clubs that make up the boarders’ lifestyle.

Fishing boats in Newquay harbour

Visitors to the town can enjoy over 10 beaches; some backed by steep cliffs or dunes, others with holiday homes and pools, and another looked upon by Newquay’s harbour. While I doubt the latter is as scenic as most of the others, it was filled with small fishing boats, and was very much off the tourist patch. Leading to a very peaceful coastal walk, we left the surfers to enjoy their Volkswagens and loud clothes, and paced along the cliff edge to the headland, stopping to take the occasional picture, and look out across the Atlantic.

The Bedruthan Steps

Revisiting past memories, we drove east to the Bedruthan Steps to enjoy a tasty (if windy) picnic. A dramatic coastline with massive rock stacks, I think has been the most beautiful place we’ve visited so far. The ‘Steps’ are cliffs which have been systematically eroded over many years, leaving vast columns of volcanic rock stacks. As we walked down the rock staircase which has been carved out of the cliff face, and with the sun beating down on the golden sands, the true beauty of the columns and the spectacular landscape which surrounded them unfolded.

The Bedruthan Steps flex their mussels

Each rock was covered in millions of mussels, which cannot be seen from the top of the mainland cliff. With their dusky matt and often wet shells glinting in the sun’s rays, they contrasted well with the greenery atop some of the stacks, and the sparkling clear water that filled perfectly-formed rockpools, at the bottom of these rock giants. It really is a spectacular place to visit, and on an almost perfect afternoon like today, could easily pass as a tropical desert island, with the gentle waves lapping the shore.

The Bedruthan Steps shoreline

Many pictures were taken, but it was soon time to journey to our next and final destination. Just as other places in the county, Padstow seems to offer visitors the full harbour, fishing boats, and picturesque scenery experience. Most famously home to the establishments of seafood chef Rick Stein, we enjoyed walking the beach and bay-lined coastal path, and sharing our afternoon tea with inquisitive sparrows.

The coastal path at Padstow

On the west side of the Camel estuary, the town is still a working fishing port, and this afternoon at least, I could imagine staying as day turned into night, and enjoying an alfresco dinner in one of the many pastel-hued pubs and restaurants that line the pretty walled harbour, with its still blue water and warm temperatures. And, as we sat and enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere, we sat and remembered what we has seen, what we done with the day, and planned a much less busy day for tomorrow.

It’s come at the right time, that’s for sure. We both needed a break, and the offer of a ten-day break with the family in Cornwall was too good to resist. And so it was with anticipation and expectation that we packed our bags and journeyed down to the south west corner of England yesterday.

Neither of us has been to Cornwall before, and we were looking forward to seeing what the county can offer. Getting into the holiday mood by listening to local radio station Atlantic FM on the internet, we hoped that the skies would be sunny, and the temperatures warm. That’s certainly the picture that the radio paints, anyway.

Most of yesterday was spent buzzing along the motorways to our holiday cottage just outside Saltash, and we made good time, even with a friendly stop over in Bath for lunch. Today was our first full day of exploring, and wanting to stay local, we chose to zizz along the coast, and visit the reportedly pretty villages that litter the shoreline.

First stop was Cawsand, which along with its ‘sister’ Kingsand, are part of the Rame Peninsula. The scenic ‘twin’ villages are side-by-side, and have long fishing and sea connections, and although popular, are unspoilt by tourists. The coastline of both settlements are rocky, but with a twist. The rocks themselves are a rich dark purple or green in colour, marbled with white inlays, and are quite beautiful. Shallow pools with clear water are formed where the rocks dip under the sea, creating a very scenic view out to the English Channel.

Polperro harbour

The charming small fishing port of Polperro was our next destination, a little further west along the coast. I’m surprised at how hilly Cornwall is, the landscape changing dramatically from livestock-filled and hedge-walled fields to cliff tops looking down towards the great expanses of sea. With houses nestled high in the stepped hilltops above the gentle roads below, shops line the steep quiet streets down to the harbour.

Electric milk float-style buses and carriages pulled by horses ferry tourists to the harbour itself, and while the tide was out when we visited, it was still very pretty. The empty fishing boats provided platforms on which the gulls could sit, while the gentle and tranquil atmosphere seemed to rub of on everyone, while other gulls glided above. All in all, pretty much the archetypal Cornish fishing village then, but none the less enjoyable for that.

Deckchairs at Looe

The last stop of the day was Looe, made up of the villages of East and West Looe. Separated by the tidal river Looe, it was very busy with tourist activity, and parking proved a problem. So much so, that we didn’t see that much of the friendly rivals, including East Looe’s fish market and sandy beach, and the seafront at Hanafore with views across to Looe Island. No matter though, we’d had a very nice day out, and even enjoyed our first Cornish pasty. I only hope the other places we plan to visit over the next week prove to be both as scenic and enjoyable.