Summer isn’t quite summer without a visit to Porthleven.
The urge to return to Porthleven for a few days proved irresistible. This time, instead of a week in one of the clifftop cottages on the east side, I stayed in a B & B on the west clifftop. The walk down into the town, part of the South Coast Path, should only take about ten minutes, unless loitering, as I do on all walks, to take photos.
The next day I visited Porthcurno, arriving there by 10 am, to find both carpark and beach more or less empty, an unusual state of affairs. 
Although the white sands were sheltered from a chill wind, I wasn’t in the mood for lazing. I intended to explore a path that snaked its way up the east cliff. The climb was worth the effort, affording a wonderful view of Pedn Vounder beach. Another almost deserted beach, but with such a steep climb down to it, beyond me, that wasn’t surprising. Nor was the tide far enough out to walk from Porthcurno beach. Some other time.
The next stop for my annual pilgrimage to the South West had to be where pilgrims of old traipsed- off to Marazion and a brisk walk across the causeway. The intention to enjoy a glass of something in the cafe was thwarted by the long queue, so I simply headed back to the village and stopped at The Godolphin Arms. One day I will eat here: the menu was enticing.
The ever-beautiful Kynance Cove tempted me the following day. Again, arriving by 10ish meant that the beach and carpark were not yet hosting hordes of visitors. With the tide on its way out, I waded through pools to explore each part of the beach and, of course, the caves and tunnels, which provided shelter when it rained.
As the weather, although warmish, wasn’t the lazing around sort, I thought I’d walk back, via the cafe and ‘road’. I couldn’t quite believe my eyes when I saw something glittering in the sunlight. Was this some kind of installation art, gleaming in the heathers that covered the clifftop?
Back in the carpark, I asked the National Trust warden, who let me look the plant up in the NT booklet. This beautiful, golden plant is a Carline thistle, named after Charlemagne, but surely one touched by Midas himself.
As choughs had been sighted that morning, I set off towards Lizard Point. Whilst a few crows graced my path, no choughs flew by. However, the hope of seeing them persuaded me on to the most southerly point and lunch. On the return journey, a pair of common blue butterflies danced in the sunlight. No choughs, though, but chuffed enough with golden thistles.
One last stop, on the drive back, this time to Gunwalloe Church Cove beach, where storm clouds assembled besides the sun, and the tempestuous sea glowed iridescent blues and greys. The Church of Storms, tucked between this beach and Church beach, has this guardian watching over it.
The next day, an urge to walk grabbed me once more, so I revisited Sennen Cove, where I trekked across to the most westerly point, Land’s End. With so much exercise, I decided I could indulge in a caramel and sea salt ice cream, another annual occasion.
Thereafter, a walk on the beach. The wild waters entranced, as always, and, as it was so blustery, I thought it only right that my pocket kite- which has pockets and also fits into my pocket- enjoyed the weather. However, it disgraced itself, attempting to transform itself into a stunt kite or gyroscope. I gave up on that one.
And so the final day arrived, and the journey home, which had to be the long way, via the ever-lovely Dartmoor. The previous time I’d driven this way, it had snowed. Today the moor basked in gentle sunshine. As I pottered along, eyes scanning every which way for the ponies, I spotted a tor with a convenient car park opposite and a tempting path upwards. It looked easy enough. One more walk then. Its looks were deceptive, however, for it was steeper and further than it suggested. But how incredible the views were, across two counties and the rivers Tamar and Tavy, as well as a glimpse of the Plymouth Sound.
View from Cox Tor
The final photo-stops: the inquisitive, almost tame, Dartmoor ponies, the clapper bridge at Postbridge, the end of a wonderful five days in the South West.
Corner of the Eye 