St Ives to Gurnards Head - walking the South West Coast Path

Epidaurous Bronze - Barbara Hepworth

It is two weeks now since I last walked a section of the coast path. My legs and feet have stopped hurting but the weather is hotter than ever. I visited Bristol this week and the thermometer read 31 degrees centigrade. This is not weather for walking with a heavy backpack. This is swim in the sea weather; lounge on the beach weather; loiter in the mini-market standing under the air con weather. I admit it - I have been putting it off. But then I had an email from my good friend Damon at Encounter Walking offering me a fantastic deal on a walking holiday from St Ives to Penzance due to a customer cancelling at the last minute. I would be staying in fine hotels and bed and breakfast establishments en route, a welcome change from my teeny tent.
'I'm not sure whether to take it,' I said to my brother.
'Why ever not? It sounds brilliant!' he said.
'But it means I will be doing the walk out of order. I will have missed out Perranporth to St Ives.'
My brother stared at me with incredulity. 'Are you out of your mind? Does it really matter what order you do it in? Do that bit later.'
I thought about it. Brother was right. After all this is my walk - I can do it in whatever way I chose. I would walk on from St Ives and go back and fill in the gap from Perranporth sometime afterwards.

St Ives

I had friends staying for the weekend so decided to head down to St Ives on Monday morning and walk from there to the destination for the first night, Gurnard's Head just beyond Zennor. Mick had got wind of the trip and invited himself along. He pointed out that as I had been merrily making use of various pieces of his kit for my venture this summer, including his tent(s), bedrolls, camera and sleeping bag, I could hardly refuse. We had a double room booked but we were used to sharing a room after so many trips together so this wasn't really a problem. Most people naturally assumed we were a couple and I couldn't be bothered to disabuse them although when I saw his walking outfit I seriously considered it, he looked like an overgrown escapee from a boys comic.

Hmm now who does he remind me of?...

The Bash Street Kids
©DC Thomson and Co Ltd

So, we had an early start, planning to set off at 5am to get down to St Ives. En route we were amused by a sign that read: STOP CREAM TEAS.
‘Wonder what they’ve got against cream teas?’ said Mick. ‘Maybe they're anti scones?’


At St Ives we stopped for breakfast of poached egg on toast (me) and a huge fry-up (Mick) before setting off. St Ives of course is renowned as haunt of artists – apparently it is something to do with the quality of the light here, although I doubt the light would have been as attractive had St Ives not been quite so pretty anyway with its narrow winding streets of whitewashed cottages curled around the golden sand of the harbour. We had a quick look at Smeatons Pier and the little fisherman’s chapel of St Leonards. Outside, dedications on the benches to those who had lost their lives at sea reminded me what a hazardous and dangerous job being a fisherman can be. After rounding another beach we passed the coastwatch station. Stopping for a chat with the chap on duty I learned that the circular structure outside was the remains of gun emplacements dating back to the Napoleonic wars.

St Leonard's Chapel, St Ives

The Cintra Anchor, St Ives

The path climbed gently past rock-strewn inlets, but soon turned into an energetic scramble. I had been a little worried about this section as I had read somewhere that it was the most challenging part of the whole path. There were some ups and downs but nothing as severe as sections farther north around Morwenstow and Crackington Haven. The terrain underfoot was interesting though, and required considerable concentration as we hopped from stone to stone. The ground was bone dry and our progress was not too bad, in wet conditions I could tell this section would be a daunting one with boggy ground and slippery stones. At one point the path turned into a full-on boulder scramble over huge granite rocks. "My caving practice is coming in handy!' I called to Mick. 'This is like caving only with the light on!'
Two seconds later I slipped off a rock. 'Not that handy then,' said Mick drily.

Once we had finished scrambling, the heather across the top of the cliffs was gorgeous, carpets of purples flowers contrasting with yellow gorse and silvery grey granite stone walls.

Many gates are not designed for backpackers...

More stunning sartorial style

Just after Carn Naun Point we came to The Carracks, a cluster of rocks just offshore where we counted a colony of over twenty grey seals, some swimming and some sunning themselves on the rocks, grunting and mooing to each other. This was obviously the local hang-out for seals judging by the number of seal watching trip-boats hovering around the islands. The clouds were low and the humidity was high; we were sweating buckets and a couple of short showers doing nothing to reduce the stickiness of the air.

Boulder scramble on path

The views at Zennor Head were stunning and we sat for a while taking them in before heading up the lane to the little settlement of Zennor and The Tinners Arms. We had fond memories of this pub, it had been the first of many that we had tried on our cycle ride from Land's End to John O'Groats a few years previously.

Zennor Head

Going back is often a mistake. The first time we had visited this pub we had loved its old world charm and slightly gloomy interior which felt like it had not changed for centuries. This time there was something different. It was still a fine pub but felt a little gentrified, with a fancy restaurant and fancy prices at the bar as well. Still, we enjoyed a couple of pints of Tinners Ale before retracing our steps back to the coast path and the last couple of miles to Gurnard's Head. We soon realised that the beer had been a mistake, and those last two miles seemed rather hard work. With some relief we turned up the lane towards the pub.

Ladies in line

One last delay as we waited for a long procession of cows to plod down the lane for milking in an orderly line. Eventually we reached the Gurnards Head. This is a fabulous hotel and beautifully decorated. Mick was slightly disappointed and I was very pleased to discover there were no televisions in the bedrooms (hurrah!), just a Roberts Radio and perfect peace. The food was superb too and was nicely washed down with a fine pint of Cornish Crown Ale.

The Gurnards Head

Distance: 8.5 miles

Total Distance Walked So Far: 211miles

Accommodation Ranking: 10/10