Cornwall

The incredible clifftop spot at Pendeen Lighthouse, just minutes from our stay.

​       ​Throughout my adult life, period dramas have been driving inspiration for me to travel, doing internet searches for filming locations of favorite shows. After discovering the popular drama Poldark, set in late 1700s-early 1800s Cornwall, I firmly added the coastal region to my travel bucket list. I had previously heard and seen photos of Cornwall’s natural beauty, remoteness, and considerable history, but once again, as it always is with travel, you must see it to believe it.
 
        The main magnetic draw that established in my mind as we hit Kynance Cove, the first spot of incredible coastline seen from our 6.5-hour car journey from London, was the remoteness. It takes being in a car, seeing and feeling the distance from a metropolis to a rugged coastline to grasp the isolation of a location. Flying somewhere can dilute our sense of distance, and while it’s quicker, I can’t recommend enough the long but rewarding drive to the western coast of England, where you feel truly “away” from it all.

Kynance Cove, our first glimpse at coastline and used for filming Poldark.

         
​            Since traveling to nature destinations in the last two years, I’ve definitely been more balanced in my love of nature vs. city travel. They both offer completely different experiences and emotions, and after being in the Big Smoke since my trip to Austria earlier in the year, it was high time for this getaway. Choosing an Airbnb in the small village of Pendeen was intentional. I wanted to get as far away from London as I could for a bit. You can’t really get any farther, as Pendeen is almost parallel with, and only a 20-minute drive from Land’s End, the westernmost point of the UK mainland. If you look west straight from the point, New York is only a mere 4000-some miles in front of you, with a bit of ocean in between. For a minute, home seemed closer than London. Land’s End’s name is pretty much the feeling you’d think when being there. The rest of civilization feels small while you sit there, with a pint of cider in hand watching the sun set 23 minutes after it already has in London. Such scenery cannot help but induce waves of emotions too, crashing around in your mind like the very waves beneath you. I felt passionate appreciation for the beauty all around me, for the opportunity to be in that place, to embrace a skyline that was woven into the culture and history around it and know that every glance I had at that scenery was a gift not to be taken for granted.

Pointing at the US

The Last Inn in England, when read from this side, and The First Inn in England when driving back inland.

Cider, sunset, and deep thoughts

         A 5-day trip was just a little but intoxicating taste into the slow life of Cornwall. Being in a specific place is the only way to really understand a culture and appreciate how we all are beautifully knit together. On top of the two days of distance travel, we thankfully had wonderful weather to see lots of western Cornwall’s landscapes. First was a trip to St. Michael’s Mount, the famously romantic Island, a-top which sits a castle and church owned by the same family for generations. The island has been a strategic stronghold for centuries, and what adds to its draw is the tidal causeway connecting the island to mainland by foot. Only open for a few hours a day by low-enough tide, this walkway made the Mount feel more ancient, exclusive and remote. Walking up on those sand-washed stones to such a novel-esque sight and ascending the stone steps and cobbled ramps to a fairytale castle with views of surrounding blue and green horizons was the perfect introduction to ancient Cornwall. Such sights can’t help but inspire dreams of perfect peace.
 

The romantic St. Michael's Mount at low tide, on approach.

        While the castle and harbor, with its dotted little village buildings and toppled over boats patiently expecting the water to come back in,  line the view on from the mainland, the reverse view coming from the sea must truly be a sight. Boats circled the island while we explored, and they would witness one of the most unique vertical gardens I’ve seen. The closest I can compare it to is a mini-Kew; the world-famous Garden in Southwest London. Tight, snake-like paths wove up and down from the high castle walls to the grass level, intricately landscaped with thousands of varieties of cactus, succulent, flowers, trees, vines, and countless plant species. No detail was too little, from large palms to single bud succulents carefully planted into stone cracks. Onlookers from a boat would see an explosion of color to completement the unreal scenery surrounding. It’s as Mediterranean as Cornwall could get.  Inside the castle, ancient weapons and paintings as well as family photos mingled to create a blend of history and home, and the cozy feeling that made you realize a castle can still be a place to reside with modern memories. We crossed back minutes before the tide washed in and watched the boats balance back to their use, making the island once again an oasis on the Cornish coastline, romantically remote until the next day.

On approach, across the causeway.

The crystal waters and thriving ecosystem

Looking out for the Spanish Armada

The unique and eye-popping gardens, with the castle nestled at the top.

We can all thrive in harsh environments.

Stopped to smell the alliums

Felt more like Italy

I've never seen such thriving succulents!

As is typical of a Cornish holiday, the next day was also spent at the seaside, this time in sunny St. Ives. The popular destination is full of beach and harbor views, winding village pedestrian walkways, local artisan shops, gourmet treats, and the inevitable seagull soaring around, waiting to grab your chippies, pasty, or ice cream cone. So often is the occurrence, that there are signs in the shops and around the beaches warning tourists, and making it clear by the businesses that no, you won’t get another one for free.

St.Ives, but feeling very Hamptons

St. Ives offered a low tide when we arrived, and immediately we set out to walk barefoot across the rolling sands far out from the harbor and once again, it’s toppled boats.  We dipped our feet into the cold but refreshing crystal blue waters. The expanse of melted together blue horizon and waters calmed and reset my brain, and made London melt away from memory. We wound our way through the little streets after, seeking a popular lunch spot recommended to us. Amazingly, we were seated immediately with an incredible waterfront table. I was glad, but immediately thought of the possible gulls descending on my food, so the entire meal was a balance of eating and looking up. After admiring the beach before us, which was a separate cove from the harbor earlier in the day, we went out back onto the sands with a blanket, a book, and had a proper rest. I enjoyed the sun, the sounds, and my current subject matter of the life of Hans Holbein, Henry VIII’s portrait painter. Some passions can’t be left in London.
 

Cool but clear waters

Lunch views across the beach

Being extra careful of my chippies

Shell shopping is the new candy shopping

Taking full advantage of pasty land

The winding beach streets

        The day promised other goodies, like ice cream, shell shops, and my first Cornish pasty, a famous Cornish delight historically eaten by miners to give them fuel as they worked in dark and cramped mines all day. A pasty traditionally is meat, potatoes, onions, and other veg, in a flaky pastry crust. While many versions of the dish are made today, I kept it traditional and took mine to go. We drove back to Pendeen, sun-kissed and calm, along the striking South West Coastal Path at golden hour. No words can properly relay the lush green fields, separated by ancient stone borders, and dotted with villages, farms, and grazing cattle and sheep, all on rolling hills cut off by a jagged coast, and then nothing but blue. Shivers.
       
​         We wound our away out to the Pendeen Lighthouse, a few minutes from our humble cottage stay, and were surprised to be mostly alone on a coastal cliff covered in heather and wildflowers as the sun set. We once again laid out the blanket, took out our pasties, and had our dinner with the most fitting view possible. I thought of the thousands of people throughout history that had sat here with their pasties before us. Lovers, friends, families, and wanderers would have watched the endless waves, talked about their lives, and dreamed dreams. It was a moment in time to be cherished, to be grateful to be alive, and to stare in awe across the dotted tin and copper mines from period dramas and real life alike.

Soaking in the unreal scenes just before sunset

           Rain, inevitably, filled our third day. It didn’t stop us from seeing as much rural areas and more cliff-sides and beaches as we could. The one that struck me the most was famous Holywell Bay, from many a sunset Poldark scene. In the stormy weather, it was another creature. In my yellow rain jacket, I hiked around a dune and was met with a desolate wide expanse of beach. Rain poured and wind roared from every direction.  A few locals walked their pooches, but it was mostly empty. The vast beach still carried an unimaginable magic. I’m of the strong opinion that there is equal beauty in the rainy days as the sunny ones, and England is one of the best places on Earth where the rain suits the natural beauty so well. That beach, as many other a place here, is built to be admired by rain as well. The stormy waves crashed onto the sand, creating vivid whitecaps. The sound of the wind hummed its own tune, one of peace and noise in equal fervor. The cliffs took hit after hit of waves from each side, and from steady downpour as well, as if unfazed. Many people would see such sights and run, but all I wanted to do was stay. I was enamored by the convergence of emotions falling over me, and the battering of the weather all around me. It was overwhelming but I was calm. I wanted to run like the wind across that beach. I wanted to dip into the waves like I couldn’t feel the cold. I was becoming soaked by the minute but didn’t feel it as I should. It was the perfect experience of being at one with nature, feeling the deepest connection to a place in time and knowing that feeling would never leave you. Rain is just as beautiful as the sun, and dare I say, more deeply romantic.

Holywell Bay, which was hauntingly romantic

Water and sand constantly reformed and twisted back to the sea

Cornwall was the perfect escape. It is not a place you easily leave mentally. It’s a state of being, of breathing fresh, of reflecting. Winding one-lane roads lined with hedgerows and stone walls. Sprawling hydrangea bushes are the most beautiful you will ever witness. Cliff sides change your perspective. And like all good things in life, you have to work a bit harder to get there.

On the lookout for Ross Poldark, in an ultimate regency moment for me