The Paddler Autumn/Fall issue 2017

ThePADDLER 42
The morning shadow hid most of this coast’s
true glory but it still impressed. The sun was out
and the scenery was ticking boxes, but the long
days, late nights and early starts had finally caught
up with me by day seven. By the time we passed
an unbelievably packed Porthmeor beach at St
Ives, I was crawling along behind the others.
Officially broken! And then came the culture
shock – we landed amidst all the tourists in
Cornwall. St Ives was teeming with burnt Brits!
Despite having had limited company for a week,
we were still unabashed about spreading wet kit
in a 10m radius around us. We had reached
saturation point, quite literally, and were
desperate to dry our clothes. Bless the sun!
Suitably recharged by Spanish tortilla in St Ives,
the afternoon paddle saw the Cornish coast
completely change character. The tin mines were
replaced by a fascinating collection of stacked
sediments. Godrevy lighthouse has a secret
(you’ll have to go there to find out) and the seal
colony was surprisingly empty. However, the
rolling swell delivered us to the Samphire Islands.
We squeezed through the pair of islands, gawping
at the layers of mud and sandstone. The bizarrely
named Ralph’s Cupboard was next. We didn’t see
Ralph but his cupboard was an epic alcove in the
cliff. However, the sun was setting and Portreath
beckoned. A quick group discussion determined
that the camping opportunities looked limited and
so a frantic 4km dash to Porthtowan ensued, as
we tried to land before full dark. In the fading light,
we could see the white capped tops of the waves
that were rolling into the beach.
A surf landing in the dark? What fun! Mark went
first and was surfed wildly into the beach. He
imagined the rest of us were doomed. Amazingly
we all landed, much wetter than before, without
incident. Adrenaline and cold wet bodies fuelled a
crazed run up the beach, with the loaded boats.
Hard choices
In the darkness, we found a flat spot within the
dunes, right in the middle of Porthtowan. Not
exactly subtle, but needs must and we urgently
needed dry clothes and food. The forecast for
early day eight was OK, but deteriorated rapidly
as the wind piled into the coast. Options were
limited as we considered the exposed Atlantic
coast and the increasing surf. I certainly welcomed
the first opportunity for a day off and we spent
the day mending and drying kit. A bit of tin mine
tourism and more café time was a welcome
respite from the hours at sea. However the
forecast for the next four days varied from
unpleasant to awful to downright wild force 7 as
Hurricane Gert swirled across the Atlantic. A
difficult decision was approaching…