Saturday 28 May 2016
Mawgan Porth to Porth Joke
Polly Joke Campsite
I was up at 7 am and already there were 3 caravans waiting to pitch – half term mayhem had started. Ian and Barbara had already packed their wet tents away and Ian caught a bus around Newquay. I went for a coffee at the local shop with Barbara as she was leaving on another bus to head back to Germany.
I packed away at 9 am and headed towards Newquay. The high cliffs here overlook beautiful clear sea and sandy beaches, most of which are joined together at low tide. It was another lovely walk until I reached Newquay town.
I couldn’t believe how many new hotels and apartments had been built along the coast. The dominant Watergate Bay Hotel was now dwarfed by other establishments. This looked like the posh end of Newquay. The town itself was heaving with people and did not look so posh. (Neither of my German friends liked Newquay.)
I bumped into Barbara again as she was waiting for another bus, so we went for a cream tea in Newquay town. People-watching was fun.
The sun was trying to come out as I left the town and walked over Towan Head to Fistral Beach, the home of British surfing. Just on the headland at the edge of the town is the Huer’s Hut, a 14th Century huer’s look out for shoals of pilchard. Upon spying a shoal the huer would ‘hue’ (alert) the local fishermen.
Fistral Beach was packed and there were at least 4 surf schools in the water, despite the lack of waves.
Over Pentire is Crantock Beach, an old family favourite. The Fern Pit Cafe has steps leading down the steep cliff to the River Gannel and a footbridge that is submerged at high tide (when they run a ferry). The old shop with live crab and lobster in tanks that kids can look at was still there.
I walked along the beach and a sea mist came in; I remember sea mists being frequent at Crantock.
I climbed up the cliff at the end of the beach and walked around Pentire Point West to Porth Joke, our favourite beach. It looked just the same: no lifeguards, huts or cafes here, just a small beach with a shallow stream running onto it. It is a half mile walk from the car park to the beach and I had always wanted to stay at the small campsite (no caravans allowed) that is next to the path. Today was my chance.
This campsite always finds room for hikers so I had no problem getting a space. The facilities were basic but I managed.
I walked the half mile back to the beach for a swim and tried to get all my stuff dry before I headed back up to The Bowgie Inn at West Pentire for dinner. The sea mist rolled in again, thicker this time.