Newquay to St. Agnes, 14 miles, Wednesday, June 4, 2025
To wit: I saw my first skylark above Perran Sands!
We started our day by crossing the low tide bridge over the Gannel once again.
We were soon walking through the dunes above Crantock Beach.
The path from here to Pentire Point West is a famous wildflower area; the hillsides are ablaze with red poppies and cornflowers. It is a National Trust Property called The Rushy Green.
You can see a vivid gash of poppies up the hill in this picture.
We have had forecasts of rain almost every day, and so far haven’t felt a drop. Rain was forecast this morning, and it had fallen overnight, but the worst we experienced was some cloudiness, as this view back across Crantock Beach shows.
As we rounded the point, we had our first view of the great cove and beach known alternately as Porth Joke and Polly Joke. The legs on this guy, however, are not a joke. We called him Strider.
This beautiful beach is unusually deserted because there is no car park nearby.
Because of the stream entering on the near side of the beach, we needed to walk far up the cove and cross over a little bridge.
And this is looking back down the beach.
As we climbed gradually on the far side toward Kelsey Head, we looked across the cove and saw our first seal. The view back from Kelsey Head wasn’t bad.
This was very pleasant cliffwalking; we were gradually approaching the beach at the hamlet of Holywell.
We were being surveilled as we walked.
We took advantage of the beach cafe at Holywell for a light bite and a few minutes off our feet. It was also a good opportunity to let Patti and David, who had stopped to deal with an urgent email, catch up to us.
Here are three desperados waiting for a train.
As we rose back onto the cliffs above Holywell Bay, we found ourselves walking around a huge British military reservation; we were pretty sure we heard the chattering of machine guns in the distance. This is the view back to Holywell.
You can see the military reservation on the left.
The cliffs at this point were enormously rugged.
We then walked far inland around the head of Hoblyn’s Cove; an isolated farmhouse sits on a promontory above the cove.
As we walked around toward Lugger Point, Sue got a chance to model her Tilley hat.
As we rounded the point, the vast reach of Perran Sands spread out before us; almost two miles long, the beach ends only at Perranporth.
Getting to the beach proved slightly tricky, though. The narrow path ran through a field of sea grasses with a sheer drop-off on the right. Not for anyone with vertigo!
It was actually quite beautiful…if you didn’t look down!
We did make it onto the beach alive.
It was a long old trudge through the sand, somewhat enlivened by the hang glider visible here.
At low tide, you can walk all the way to Perranporth along the strand; today, however, it would have entailed a 40-minute wait. We rose onto the cliffs again, this time in style, since there was an elaborate ramp leading to a car park above the beach. Here is the beach from the top.
After a bit more than ten miles, Perranporth hove into view. They were busy readying the beach for a concert, “Tunes in the Dunes.”
As we approached the Esplanade, we all agreed that a pasty was just the thing. We were directed by several long-term residents to Chapman’s Family Butchers for their award winning pies. And the things were indeed delectable!
I opted to miss the last three miles of the walk. So what follows is yet another guest blog provided by the estimable Mr. David Bradley!
We were energized whilst eating this marvelous Cornish delight. We took brief refuge on a park bench, complete with obligatory sharing with sea gulls & a small but sly tern (I think it was a tern).
Up another hill, past the pretty beach bay filled with walkers, beachgoers, surf school students & and workers setting up for a sizable rock & roll concert. I thought it might be part of the upcoming weekend Cornwall County Fayre—along with sheep judging & blue ribbon pasty competition.
Not for us. The path was for us. We were simply following our gear—transferred to the next hotel: Driftwood Spars. Onward!
Uphill one foot in front of another to find a myriad of pathways through 200 year old abandoned mine shafts and tailings. Very different landscape with multiple options for routes around & through. Somewhat dangerous in places with signage warning of subsidence & deep holes. Pravan & Rory on a low road-Gary, Cindy, Sue, Patti & David up higher picking our way around and through many colored soils and minerals from the tailings.
For us it was a somewhat stark and at the same time interesting landscape–enlivened by the late afternoon guesswork involved in finding the best trail. Per instructions we kept the ocean to our right and moved along as the scenery changed back to more of the ruggedly beautiful Cornwall Coast.
Many of these slopes were steep and reached down to the water—with and without stairs. The last section a mile outside of St Agnes was particularly challenging.
Late in the day every 1/10th of a mile seems so much longer..but that’s a topic for another time!
The trail takes you steeply down to the beach, where you find a couple of options back up (after boulder-hopping around the corner at beach level through a hopefully diminished tide).
Of course the group split, following both options.
Sue led Patti & Cindy up the hill on a safer route. David picked a different slippery slope requiring hands and feet to clamber up. Rory & Pravan followed him and passed him as if he was standing still (because he was standing still trying to catch his breath).
An old story.
We were now about 1/2 mile from the path to Driftwood Spars (thankfully on the north side of town). This last bit was downhill for the most part–around yet another beautiful crescent cove and beach with a surf school. And then we spied it: a craft beer garden populated by the comrade who had deserted us in Perranporth.
Our home away from home for the next two nights is a wonderful pub, The Driftwood Spars.
The Driftwood Spars is in a 17th century building ot immense character. It served over the years as a warehouse for the nearby tin mines and as a ships chandlery and sail makers loft before assuming the unique air of a rural Cornish pub. The old pub is built of Cornish slate and stone and huge ships timbers and spares, from which it gets its name. Behind the bar fireplace a wreckers tunnel runs through the hill to the beach. Can anyone say dog convention?
We had dinner in a wonderful loft on the second floor.
Although we were all starved after a long day, one look at the portions had us skipping starters and desserts. Several of us had gargantuan burgers with mountains of fries; but that wasn’t the biggest plate. That honor went to the fish and chips.
