Padstow to Harlyn Bay, 8 miles, Saturday, May 31, 2025
After a cooked breakfast (mercifully enough, The Old Custom House serves half of the full English, although they call it a “child’s English”), here’s the whole crew ready to take on the path.
The path was crowded with walkers: a few long distance types, but lots of day walkers and especially dog walkers. At least there were more people than we were used to seeing. The path leaves Padstow at this cross, a memorial to the fallen in World War I.
As the path rose and fell along the Camel Estuary that leads to Padstow, we passed the Doom Bar, a massive sand bank that crosses the entire bay at low tide. The Doom Bar has been the ruin of countless ships…and given its name to the best-known lager in these parts. The tide was in, so we couldn’t see the bar today.
We were soon walking behind Harbour Cove, the first of several magnificent beaches along the path today.
The horticulturalists among us were absolutely delighted: we seemed to be walking at the height of wildflower season.
Just beyond the beach is the tiny settlement at Hawkers Cove, with holiday cottages to die for!
There was a nice tea room just off the path, but our full stomachs resisted the temptation, and we climbed on past.
The path then led on to Stepper Point at the head of the long Camel Estuary that we had been following.
As we turned around Stepper Point, the Daymark Tower, a navigational aid built in 1830, came into view.
The wind off the sea had really picked up, and we either tied down or took off our hats. From the tower, we could see back down the other side of the point all the way to Padstow.
After the climb up to the tower, we enjoyed mile after mile of sensational cliffwalking, with broad panoramas of verdant fields, dramatic cliffs, and gorgeous coves.
The ancient farm walls are a never-ending source of wonder.
We passed by enormous fields of barley.
Did I mention that fully half the group belonged to “Team Spyder,” which means they purchased a significant proportion of their outdoor clothing at Costco?
We passed by a number of ancient farmsteads as we walked.
After a good bit of walking along these fields, we came to a farm gate with a particularly complex lock. We wished that we had a really good builder like Nathaniel along, but were very glad to have an Expedition Engineer, and, after a few fails, Gary had it unlocked. Rory was the caboose at this point and I said, jokingly, let’s close the gate and see if Rory can get through. At which point Pravan, his loving wife, marched back to the gate and locked it. With this result:
Luckily, Patti had the chance to confirm her well-deserved reputation as a cow whisperer; we passed through this herd without so much as a moo.
And Sue and I got to demonstrate the proper technique at a kissing gate.
During the entire day, there was only one steep descent into a creekbed followed by a sharp rise back onto the clifftops. We hardly knew we were on the Southwest Coast Path! But all good things have to come to an end.
As we descended, we met a lovely family that ran a nearby farm, and Patti and I stopped for a long chat. They’re tenant farmers, with 200 ewes, 100 head of cattle, and 50 hogs. And oh yes, two border collies (and a terrier), which is why we stopped to talk. We think Viv and Iggles would have loved the dogs.
As we approached Trevone Beach, we encountered some dramatic scenery.
And some happy hikers!
As we descended toward Trevone, we found an enormous hole. An entire field had collapsed above a sea cave.
At the edge of the hole, which had precipitous drops to the bottom, we found this enigmatic but no less melancholy memorial.
And here is Trevone Beach itself.
David had jackrabbited ahead, but the seven laggards stopped for something restorative at a beach cafe.
We were now close to our goal. The path brought us through a few more fields above a rocky coast.
We soon emerged above Harlyn Beach…extraordinary even for an Arizonan indifferent to beaches.
The full extent of this enormous beach will be revealed below. Meanwhile, we made our way up through some stunning vacation homes above the beach and on to our very swish hotel for the next two nights, The Pig at Harlyn Bay.
The hotel occupies the manor house of the Hellyar family; the building that now houses The Pig at Harlyn Bay was built in the fifteenth century. It has been remodeled and occupied by different families over the centuries, with some elements dating back to the medieval, Jacobean, and Georgian periods. The current owners have done a terrific job of maintaining the rustic character of the property. It has a lovely terrace that gives onto a sloping lawn with chairs and tables.
Beyond the lawn is an extensive kitchen garden.
Our room was in the second story of an outbuilding; it had fieldstone walls and ancient beams: tons of character. After getting settled, Pravan, Rory, Sue, and I walked back down to the beach. This little video conveys some sense of the vast extent of the fine golden sand. We could really imagine Alex racing along the sand in pursuit of something elusive!
And here are two friends contemplating the infinite.
We headed back to the hotel, where we had drinks on the terrace with Cindy and Gary. Gary and I are becoming decided fans of the light, dry ciders from Cornwall. He had apple and I had pear…wonderfully refreshing after a day on the path.
Dinner went from joyous to raucous when Gary and David, aided here and there by Patti, launched into a series of traditional Irish songs. The food was awfully good, and we drank well because the wine list was very fairly priced: a Bourgogne Blanc from Jean-Claude Boisset and an Etna Rosso from one of my favorite produces, I Custodi. Here are the ghostly remains of our meal.
