Great escape: Cornwall
Marcus Leach and family brave the unreliable elements on a tour of the far south-west
It’s character-building,” I shouted through the roar of the wind as the rain continued to lash at our exposed faces. Kim’s expression told me that she didn’t entirely agree and, truth be told, I was beginning to think she might be right. Perhaps we should have stayed in the caravan after all. The weather hadn’t seemed too bad when we set out an hour before, but had gradually worsened to the extent that our toddler son, Harrison, now had to hold both of our hands just to stop himself being bowled over by the wind.
Baby Dorothy, meanwhile, was blissfully asleep, cocooned in her all-in-one and safely tucked against my chest in her carry pouch. From where we were standing, it was difficult
to tell where the sky ended and the sea began, the two a seemingly inseparable blanket of dirty grey.
It was a view we had come to know well over the week during our maiden trip to Cornwall, but not one that had dampened our spirits or sense of adventure.
The weather had been glorious the week before and would return to being so after we left for home. As it was, we arrived in Looe for October half-term under a menacing black sky and the soft patter of rain on the roof. Well, you win some, you lose some…
Childhood holidays
By the time morning came, the rainfall had grown to resemble the rat-a-tat-tat of a machine gun, reminding me of numerous childhood camping holidays with my grandparents in Pembrokeshire. On those all-too-regular dank mornings, my brother and I would try to pull our sleeping bags over our heads, only for my eternally optimistic Gran to cajole us into action with an energy and enthusiasm that belied her age.
These ‘character-building’ days of yesteryear had instilled in me an attitude that we must make the most of every day, regardless of the weather. Kim, on the other hand, was not so convinced and gave me a look of concern as I bundled Harrison and Dorothy into their thermals and waterproofs, ready for a walk along Seaton Beach, which was – hardly surprising – deserted.
Forty-five minutes later, during which both children had been skittled by the howling wind (much to their amusement, I might add), we arrived back at the van drenched but with a sense of satisfaction.
Any good adventure merits a hearty meal, which, in Cornwall, can only mean one thing: a pasty. While we had been battling the elements on the beach, Kim had been researching the best places to sample the world-famous speciality. As luck would have it, one of the best pasties could be found at Sarah’s Pasty Shop in Looe.
Situated under an old fishing cottage, this family-run business has been hand-crimping pasties for more than a quarter of a century, and it only took one bite to see why theirs are regarded so highly.
A slice of paradise
Thankfully, there is one small corner of Cornwall that, no matter what the weather is doing outside, guarantees warmth and a sense of being in the Mediterranean, or the Amazon jungle for that matter, and that’s the Eden Project. Standing at the top of the site, looking down at the giant biomes the Project is famous for, it’s hard to take in the scale and the scope of the place.
We were met by a wall of warmth as we entered the Mediterranean biome, packed with gardens full of fruits and vegetables from various corners of the world. Of particular interest, given our love of spicy food, were the chilli plants, but just as impressive was the multitude of tomato vines heavy with all manner of obscure varieties. Harrison, unimpressed by the tomatoes and chillies, was
B‘While we had been battling the elements on the beach, Kim had been finding out the best places in Cornwall to sample the world-famous pasties’
far more interested in the Cryptid (an animal whose existence or survival is disputed or unsubstantiated) Petting Zoo, where he came face-to-face with all manner of rare and mythical animals, much to his delight. I’ve yet to have the heart to tell him that none of them was real. Or perhaps they just might be…
We left the balmy heat of the Mediterranean biome and crossed into the tropical, humid surroundings of the rainforest biome.
Winding our way around through the thick jungle, complete with a huge waterfall, it was hard to imagine that this site was, until the arrival of the Eden Project, little more than an old clay pit. Now it’s as if you’re walking through the jungle in Brazil – complete with foggy clouds and rampant humidity.
A clear day, a step back in time
The following day we awoke to an unusual silence. The rain had stopped. Not only that, but a glance out of the caravan window revealed a sky full of promise, with large swathes of blue punctuated by handfuls of little white fluffy balls.
We all dressed in haste, eager to make the most of a very welcome dry day, and ate our breakfast on the way to the Lizard Peninsula.
With its tiny fishing villages huddled into coves, rugged cliffs and vast areas of emptiness, this region feels like a world apart from the rest of Cornwall.
It’s as if time has stood still here.
Developments seen in other areas of the UK have yet to arrive, giving this place a feeling of remoteness that appealed to our sense of adventure.
Our exploration of the area took us to the lighthouse, which has been warning ships about this beautiful yet treacherous coastline for more than 270 years, and to Lizard Point – not only the most southerly place in the UK, but also a great place for spotting wildlife. We were fortunate enough to see a large sea lion lazing on the rocks, enjoying the winter sun as much as we were.
Emergency rations
The coastal path wound its way towards the picturesque Kynance Cove, repeatedly rising steeply before dropping down towards sandy enclaves, although before we could actually make it that far, Harrison’s legs began to tire, which called for some emergency measures.
It’s amazing what the promise of a slice of cake and a warm drink can do to the energy levels and enthusiasm of a four-year-old. And a 36-year-old, for that matter.
Equally as motivating for a little boy is the chance to walk in the footsteps of a giant. Legend has it that St Michael’s Mount, the jewel in Cornwall’s crown, was once home to a giant by the name of Cormoran, who terrorised the town of Marazion, stealing its cattle to satisfy his hunger.
He eventually met his demise at the hands of a local lad by the name of Jack (not to be confused with the beanstalk one), and his stone heart is still on the island.
So began our quest to cross via the causeway, revealed only at low tide, explore the island to find Cormoran’s heart, and see the beauty of the medieval castle that is still inhabited on one side by the St Aubyn family.
From the high point of the castle we would have had views for miles had it not been for the return of a bleak
‘It’s hard to take in the scale and scope of the Eden Project’
grey sky. Not that Harrison was concerned: there were cannon to climb on and imaginary ships to shoot.
Not only did we find Cormoran’s heart stone, but on collecting a series of clues for the children’s treasure hunt, Harrison was rewarded with a box of chocolates. “This is the best castle we have ever visited,” he said as he was handed his bounty. It’s also the only one that gave him chocolate, so its primacy was, perhaps, always quite assured!
Tintagel, for all its rich history, rugged beauty and modern architectural wonder, didn’t stand a chance as far as Harrison was concerned. He was far more interested in chasing his reflection in the liquid mirror that flooded the car park than in walking around the castle ruins in the seemingly unstoppable rain.
Bridge to history
Thankfully, in Kim and me the castle had two visitors who were full of appreciation for its merits, especially the brilliant new bridge that has been built to connect the headland to the mainland, using Cornish materials and entwining the history of King Arthur into its design.
It’s his legend that inspired the impressive sculpture of Gallos (meaning power in Cornish), looking all the more eerie against a backdrop of rain.
But despite a really exciting day out, not for the first time on our trip we were happy to reach the sanctuary of the van, where Harrison announced that he was quite ready to go home as, in his words, he “didn’t want to build any more character”.
There was just enough time for one last cream tea before we set off in search of drier clothes and clearer skies, still having thoroughly enjoyed our trip.