Cornwall: The Lizard and Kynance Cove - my moment of 2021.
Somewhere between Kynance Cove and Lizard Head I was berating myself for underestimating this loop and not getting breakfast first, Monty sniffed the cool, grey air and then suddenly I was hit with a sudden need to stand still, gulp a huge breath into the pit of my stomach and turn my palms toward the sea. Suddenly everything fell away and I transcended into a moment of pure gratitude and grounding. Right in this moment I belonged, with my dog at my side, I was here and there was nothing else to do.
Weeks later someone would ask me what makes me feel alive and I would recall that moment. And I would still feel that gratitude, gratitude towards my past self for buying the van and making it happen and gratitude for our natural world and the wildness of Cornwall.
I’d left Mousehole the day before with a plan to check out Penzance and find a park up there. I’d been to Penzance as a kid but had no recollection of it so I wanted to go and walk about a bit and see if it sparked any memories but when I got there I just wasn’t feeling it. I’m sure if anyone pulled up in Brighton it would be hard to see it’s magic straight away without scratching the surface so this is no reflection on the town but I knew if I was in, I’d be in. The weather was really good and I knew there was going to be an amazing golden hour so I made the decision to skip the town and head for the wild. On my park up saved list was Henry’s - a campsite on the Lizard with a bit of a rep of being a gem. I called in and was told there were plenty of spaces being off season and it was so that I found myself driving to the most southern point of British mainland.
I felt excited going to the Lizard, I had a good feeling about it and having read about it it seemed right up my street. Pulling up at Henry’s I just felt an amazing sense of having made the right decision - it was bang smack in the middle of Lizard village and had a magic about it. Checking in and getting settled (more on Henry’s in a. separate post) Monty and I set off on foot - there was an hour of light left and I was keen to make the most of the golden light.
There’s a path straight from Henry’s to Lizard Head and I took it. Following a hedge lined path I knew I was in for a treat, getting teasing glimpses along the way. It was after about ten minutes that the path opened out onto a large clifftop field straight in front of Lizard Head. For anyone reading this who has been to Lizard you’ll know that it’s hard to explain the energy here but it’s beautiful. It’s wild, it’s freeing, it’s humbling and it’s weirdly life affirming. As I looked out to the Atlantic (forever trying to spot those dolphins) I imagined the history here - due to the way the estuary and seabed formed the waters are treacherous and provided a number of shipwrecks for ships trying to get in and out of Falmouth. In particular The Manacles - a formation of sharp, jagged rocks - were a big hazard and now a popular diving spot because of the wrecks. You can feel the ghostly atmosphere here yet it doesn't fail to be breathtakingly beautiful.
Current day, Lizard Point overlooks one of the worlds busiest shipping paths with a third of the worlds shipping passing Lizard Point each year.
Turning left I headed towards Lizard Point taking in the ever changing view of the lifeboat station and Britains most southern cafe. The flora is rich with many rare species of plants nestled on the serpentinite bearing rock (not the reason for the name). Arriving at Lizard Point I walked around a while taking in the magic before I decided to beat the sun to completely setting to get back to the campsite and van and headed back towards Lizard via the well trod footpath next to the road. As I walked away there were some tremendous scenes over Lizard Wireless Station - the oldest Marconi station to survive in it’s original state.
Heading back to Henry’s I managed to catch a little bit of the sun setting over Kynance Cove, nestled in Mounts Bay, in the distance - my morning bucketist.
Rising before the light I pulled on my hiking clothes and slung the camera over my body. Lacing up my boots I started telling Monty that we were off to check out a special place, I think he had other ideas on his mind (always thinking about his stomach) but duly followed me out of the campsite onto the lane that connected us with the path that runs to Kynance Cove.
The path over to Mounts Bay was incredibly pleasant and took little time to throw us out onto the lane down to the bay. Following the path along the side of the lane down to the National Trust building and then following the signs down to the Cove, the beauty of the cove started to become clear. But it was when In started to descend a number of small flights of stairs (there is a stepless route down too) that the impact really took hold. Almost white sand turned the waters turquoise, even with the grey skies, dramatic rocks rose out of the beach and the water lapped around them forming rock pools and the cafe at the cove sat looking very closed yet fittingly at home.
We hit the cove, taking note of the signs about the importance of watching the tide - at Kynance Cove it is very easy to get cut off as the tide moves very quickly. With no phone reception and no other souls around at this point it was a warning I was going to take heed of. You are left to your own devices here but this is an incredibly wild place and caution needs to be exercised. Monty instantly hit the pools of clear water, digging in the sand and looking up to check on me every few minutes. I wandered the beach looking at the textures of the serpentine rock and kicking about in the caves, anxiously watching the tide lapping around the islands while simultaneously listening for a snort, caused by a blow hole on the largest of the islands - Asparagus Island. Then a couple joined me in the cave, keen to tell me what would make a good photo. This friendly pair were from Falmouth and it struck me how amazing it is that they woke up and decided to drive here to catch the morning light from their home.
Having had my fill and with a rumbling tummy I started the ascent up the stairs but at the top decided I couldn’t go back the way I’d come - something I’ve inherited from my Mum. Monty looked at me sagely, knowing that a diversion was about to happen and so began what I thought would be a quick walk back along the cliff tops.
The path turned out to be undulated - dipping up and down the landscape but rewarding every effort with breathtaking beauty. While I regretted not bringing water with us I was incredibly grateful for every moment. It was after climbing some (lots) steps over a small creek, just past Pentreath beach where I had watched one lone, brave surfer crash in and out of the waves where I had my transcendent moment. I was suddenly taken with a gratitude and love for everything in the moment - the company of Monty, being here in this incredibly wild and beautiful place and the Atlantic air filling every corner of my lungs.
The path came to the left just before the pre breakfast fatigue set in and Monty and I wearily trod the path back to Henry’s, incredibly grateful for breakfast and me for my coffee as we rested and let our bodies and minds digest this very special morning before reluctantly moving on to our next destination.