Harlyn Bay to Mowgan Porth, 12.13 miles, Sunday, June 1, 2025
Not to pull any punches: this was probably the most spectacular coastline we’ve walked in our more than 300 miles along the coast path.
As we left Harlyn Bay, the skies were grey and the wind was fierce. But Harlyn Bay was still gorgeous.
Hats tied below your chin weather!
We were walking up the southern side of the bay, heading for Trevose Head. The tide was in, and the great beach was a fraction of its former self.
As we started out around Trevose Head, we saw the lifeboat station that had been moved from Padstow because of its more reliable availability in crisis: dangerous work for brave men.
This is just a small preview of the remarkable coastline to come.
The path ran through some lovely fields bordered by old stone walls.
You soon come to a narrow neck with the sea on both sides: the path leads right around Trevose Head and then back to a place no more than 10 minutes from where you’re standing.
No shortcuts for us! We headed onward toward Trevose Head and soon its lighthouse came into view. As we learned, it can be seen from many miles up and down the coast.
From the head the path descends gently, passing through an abandoned quarry, to the great twinned beaches of Booby’s Bay and Constantine Bay.
It is at this point that the walk became really interesting. The very high winds, with gusts around 40 MPH, was whipping the sea into a frenzy around the rocky coast.
As we turned toward the twinned bays, the sea was in full fury.
We had a lovely walk along the beaches, watching the kite surfers.
Pravan captured the real action!
This shot looks back on the two beaches, giving a good sense of their length. You can just see the lighthouse and Trevose Head in the far distance.
As we left the beach, we saw an absolutely idyllic cottage.
The path now rose onto the low cliffs, treating us to easy walking and spectacular views of the rugged coast. The path wound crazily in and out as we strode above a succession of coves: Warren, Pepper and Fox.
Here I am approaching the Minnow Islands.
And here are the islands themselves.
Cove after cove provided dramatic viewing.
All too soon we found ourselves descending into the tiny village of Porthcothan. We were making very good time with the moderately easy walking: more than two miles an hour, even with frequent photo stops.
We sought refuge on a picnic table provided by the Porthcothan stores.
We all had a coffee, while some of us indulged in the luscious Cornish ice cream: I had rhubarb / clotted cream. We were soon rising back onto the cliffs. We were continually amazed at the sheer number of incredible beaches on this coastline. Porthcothan has a very long beach that is protected by headlands on either side.
We rose onto Park Head, one of the very few National Trust properties through which we had passed. This is the view looking back up the coast from Park Head.
Passing Park Head, we got our first view of the Bedruthan Steps, the most famous feature of this stretch of coastline. The steps are seastacks and small islands arranged in a memorable pattern. The name Bedruthan Steps is said to be taken from a mythological giant called Bedruthan, who used the rocks (stacks) on the beach as stepping stones, and seems to be a late-19th-century invention for Victorian tourists.
And here are a couple of views as we passed above them. Each of the stacks has a name and from north to south they are Queen Bess, Samaritan Island, Redcove Island, Pendarves Island, and Carnewas Island.
After this steep climb–really the only one of the entire walk–we enjoyed more cliffwalking as we rounded Terrance Point.
The little village of Mowgan Porth soon came into view, and we descended steeply on a series of sandy stairs, an insult to weary knees! The slopes above the lovely beach are studded with stunning modernist homes, including one belonging to the TV chef Rick Stein’s late father.
This was yet another enormous beach with what David estimated at a 7 foot tidal variation. Our taxi van was picking us up at The Merrymoor Inn, and we settled in for a cold drink to wait. We had so far avoided the rain that had been forecast, but we sat down on the terrace with our drinks, the heavens opened and we scurried inside. We had a very pleasant conversation with a man, born in Edinburgh but now situated in the Midlands, and his son.
After the usual terrifying ride on the tiny Cornish roads, we landed back at The Pig. David shared some more photos of this really unusual joint.
After a quick cleanup, it was on to dinner at the hotel’s second dining space, the Lobster Shed. A lovely facility in a field with open sides and roof, it has a less formal menu. We ate lots of fish (including a starter of Montalbano’s favorite, red mullet) and celebrated our continued existence by sharing a magnum of English bubbly.
Our waiter was particularly congenial.
