A Riot of Cliffs and Beaches

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun

The county of Cornwall, at the southernmost tip of England, possesses a quality of light and a mix of salt and fresh air that has kept generations of artists flocking to its shores for inspiration. Cornwall boasts a palette of slate skies, pale sun, and dark turquoise waters. Its rain-nourished peninsulas meet the sea in a riot of granite cliffs and hidden beaches. Ancient Celtic ruins, abandoned tin mines, and cemeteries with better sea views than most of the living can afford quietly stand after the summer holiday-makers have swarmed and gone.


The drive south from London took my friend and me the better part of a day. South of Exeter, the M5 shrank to two-lane A roads as the names of places lost their Anglo lilt and signs appeared for Bodmin Moor and Truro. As one-lane, hedge-lined B roads took over, Penzance, a bustling town of about 19,000 yearround inhabitants, appeared. Exploring the winding cobblestone streets, past boats bobbing in the marina, the town seemed barely populated. We ambled down Chapel Street, and a few doors from the Union Hotel, where in 1805 the news of Nelson’s death rang out from the minstrel’s gallery, settled on the Admiral Benbow Inn (46 Chapel St, 44-1736-363448). Scrumpy’s cider and baked cod freshly caught in the nearby waters of Newlyn took the chill out of the night air.


Our next stop was the small village of Marazion three miles south, itself a charming hamlet full of local artisans’ wares, and the place to catch the boat for St. Michael’s Mount, the dwelling place of the giant confronted by Jack the Giant Killer, likely the inspiration for the Jack of beanstalk fame. At high tide, the Mount is an island so, for a fare of about $1.75, we boarded small open boats six at a time with a handful of other tourists.


The castle of St. Michael’s Mount towers at 230 feet and the climb is steep, but the views alone are worth the admission price of about $9.30. The Mount is also a time capsule of Cornish history. Beginning in the 5th century as a place of pilgrimage, the castle dates from the 12th century and housed by turns a Benedictine priory, a fortress, and private home for the St. Aubyn nobles. The elderly Earl and Lady of St. Aubyn live there still. As we descended, the falling tide revealed a granite causeway, bordered by moss covered stones and tide pool snails, leading us back to the beach.


The brightly painted houses and flowering window boxes of nearby St. Ives looked like a storybook version of a fishing village. It was in St. Ives that I chose to sample the famous Cornish pasty. Created to provide a portable and hearty lunch for the region’s tin miners of days past, they are a kind of British empanada with a thick edge to hold.


Overlooking Porthmeor Beach is Tate St. Ives, sister of London’s Tate Modern, which showcases local talent both past and present in an airy, white-walled modern building that lets the sounds of the beach below converse with the works of art by David Nash, Trevor Bell, and painters of the St. Ives School (Tate St Ives, Porthmeor Beach, St. Ives, 44-1736-796226, www.tate.org.uk/stives). A mile away, the 1920s home and gallery of acclaimed potter Bernard Leach (1887-1979) are intimate, as if the potter himself had just left the studio for a moment, allowing a quiet walk in his garden.


After the relative sophistication of St. Ives, I wanted to seek out the wild and remote. Land’s End, the westernmost point of mainland Britain, where it meets the Atlantic in a ridge of majestic cliffs some 200 feet high. It is a haunting, lovely place reassuringly undeveloped as an attraction. Out to sea, freestanding crags mark the way to the Isles of Scilly 25 miles offshore, supposedly the mountain peaks of the lost land of Lyonesse. According to legend, Lyonesse was either a great city swallowed by a storm in 1099 or sunk by Merlin’s ghost to save King Arthur’s army. In either case, it’s said that at night you can hear the lost church bells ringing out from the depths.


I regretted that properly exploring the glorious coastal province would entail a hike along a slice of the 600-mile Southwest Coast Path, which winds along the edge of both the Lizard and Penwith peninsulas. Fortunately, most destinations in Cornwall are no more than an hour apart by car, but the pleasant sense is maintained that each village in its own cocoon of pastures is a little world unto itself.


Most of my coastal excursions brought me to the edge of sheer drops battered by surf and littered with chunks of black stone. For swimming and surfing, the beaches of Bude, Newquay, and St. Ives draw the biggest crowds.


Kynance Cove, a secluded beach maintained by the National Trust and inaccessible at high tides, is a gem tucked into the stony tip of the Lizard peninsula. A rough path descends for a half-mile to the back of the cove. A tiny white sandwich shop overlooks a maze of arches and caves connected by smooth gray beach. When I visited, a few families frolicked in the waves; a father and daughter played a game of cricket with an improvised bat and a circle drawn in the sand.


I explored the natural architecture and even braved a dip in the frigid waves before settling for a pint and a buttered roll at a picnic table up the hill. Unlike so many other beautiful coastlines, nothing here had been built with any permanence, nothing the sea couldn’t swallow. In a few hours, the beach would sink under the tide, like a legend or a dream lost on waking.


The New York Sun

© 2025 The New York Sun Company, LLC. All rights reserved.

Use of this site constitutes acceptance of our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. The material on this site is protected by copyright law and may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, cached or otherwise used.

The New York Sun

Sign in or  Create a free account

or
By continuing you agree to our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use