South by south west
Mullion Cove, Cornwall (all images on this page by Deri Robins)
“THERE'S nothing here,” said the north of England woman standing by the slipway in Mullion Cove. Gazing with distaste over the lobster pots and a rusty old anchor, she turned to her husband and looked thoroughly disgruntled.
Full marks to them, though – there are no shops, no burger bars or pizzerias, no karaoke clubs, no supermarkets, not even a pub or betting shop; in fact none of the things you’d want from a holiday resort. Instead, just an old grey harbour, crumbling a bit, a few fishing boats bobbing about, crashing waving, great towering cliffs, and a thousand seabirds wheeling overhead.
Mullion Cove Apartments — you can't get accommodation closer to the beach than this, apart from a sleeping bag on the sand
And we were staying there, right there in the clapperboard building at the water’s edge, overlooking the harbour.
More fool them, I’m sure I heard the northern couple say as they waddled back up the hill.
But we were more than happy with the Mullion Cove Apartments – part of the Mullion Cove Hotel, a stylish establishment that sits atop the headland on The Lizard.
These are luxury digs, fully equipped – from wifi to widescreen TV to cooker and microwave; the very latest digital devilry.
In the summer you and the dogs – yep, Touser can come too – can sit out on the balcony and watch the boats come and go, and listen to the odd peeved couple complaining about lack of facilities. In the winter, batten down the hatches, pull up one of the rugs, and watch the Atlantic perform its jacuzzi party piece. Mullion Cove faces westward, so heavy weather is not unknown round these parts.
Luxury digs for dogs — excellent views available from the Mullion Cove apartment balcony
THE STRANGE, ethereal Cornish landscape has inspired writers, composers and artists, from Arthur Conan Doyle to Gilbert & Sullivan. But in truth, hereabouts has always produced a cauldron of folk tales and fables. The Otherworld somehow doesn't seem to far away.
Partly due to this focus on fable and legend, the Lizard can claim some pretty major celebrity visitors over the centuries.
And did those feet in ancient times, walk upon England’s mountains green / And was the holy Lamb of God on England’s pleasant pastures seen?/
And did the Countenance Divine, Shine forth upon our clouded hills? /
And was Jerusalem builded here, Among these dark Satanic Mills?/ Bring me my Bow of burning gold; Bring me my Arrows of desire . . .
That's William Blake’s big number. The answers of course, are No, No, No, No and get them yourself. The legend that Jesus once made it to Cornwall to learn the tin trade is almost certainly due to creative thinking by 6th century Irish monks up the road in Glastonbury. Religion is showbusiness, and the previous presence of a major hitter like Jesus meant bums on pews.
But the Jesus yarn is a measure of how old the tin trade is hereabouts – and it’s still attracting celebrities. The man from Nazareth may not have made it to the Lizard, but — seamless link coming up — actor Aidan Turner most certainly did. He was staying in the very same Mullion Cove apartments as ourselves, although the week previously; it seemed such a pity to have missed him by only a few days. But then again, it’s difficult to know what to do if the star of Poldark is your neighbour. Talk about mining techniques? Invite him in for an old sing-song. . .or maybe suggest a scything contest?
Guard dogs at Mullion cove — Walter (left) and Bodie taking their protection duties seriously
To get to the beach from the apartment is an adventure in itself. Entrance to the sandy cove is via a Stygian cave carved out in the rocks by a restless ocean. The cave threads some fifty feet through the dark, damp bedrock before opening out onto the sand. One can only speculate on the value of the contraband transported through here over the centuries.
On the other hand, to get to the hotel, you need to take the South West Coastal Path. It’s a short – though steepish – walk up the cliff to the hotel, but the Rosette restaurant awaits. Ask for a window seat and watch the sun sinking beyond the horizon as you sample local scallops and lobster.
The South West Coastal path connects Mullion Cove to the rest of the Lizard, and indeed the rest of Cornwall. Fishermen, smugglers, shepherds, pirates and the odd wrecker have tramped along this spectacular walk. It’s not too arduous – there are stiff climbs here and there – but for the most part a gentle saunter will take you past savage rocks and crashing ocean on one side, and meadows crammed with thyme, clover, tormentil, orchids, wild camomile and Cornish heather on the other.
Walter — imagining what it might have been like to be a miner — checks out the path from Wheal Coates
You’ll also spot hardy breeds of Dexter and Highland cattle, brought onto the heathland to help with conservation, while overhead raptors and seabirds keep a sharp lookout for lunch. The area is home to wildlife rarities such as Shrike and Wryneck, which although sounding like estate agents, are in fact among the area’s more timid avian inhabitants.
The coastal path is relatively safe, and not wildly vertiginous – a tickle of sea-stunted bushes provides a sort of barrier. Certainly the trail goes close to the cliff-edge in places; but with a little care you’ll have no problems. Anyway, cut out this paragraph and if you do get into difficulties, show it to the cliff rescue people.
The village of Mullion, a mile up from the apartments, has been hunkered down against the elements since mediaeval times. Today the tangle of narrow streets are lined with cafes, a fish and chip shop, and an excellent pop-up Indian restaurant – although a sudden pop-up squall sent us scurrying for the shelter of the local pub, The Old Inn.
Wheal Coates tin mine
Nearby is the little village of St Agnes. Just outside, overlooking the sea, is Wheal Coates. This former tin mine, clinging to the rocks by its finger tips is possibly the most dramatic site of any mine in these islands. The view from the cliff path that leads there is stunning, as no doubt the tin miners remarked to each other every morning as they trudged to work. They may even have used the word 'iconic'; an adjective almost as hard-working as they doubtless were.
Chapel Porth beach — paddling, surfing, and demonic bacon sarnies (not shown)
The Chapel Porth beach (starting-off point for the hike to the mine) is a gem. At low tide a wisp of ivory sand curls round rocky outcrops, and the sea booms into caves, chucking spray in all directions. There’s also a little beach café that serves outrageously good bacon butties to surfers, hikers and malingerers alike. You can, of course buy Cornish pasties here, the ultimate finger food, the tin miners’ gift to the world. If Jesus really had been here and tasted the pasties, the miracle of the loaves and fishes in Galilee might have taken on a surprising dimension.
Millions of years of iffy weather have given Cornwall its moody coastline and dramatic inland scenery. Added to that extravagance of Mother Nature is a huge dollop of serious boutiquery. Hotels and apartments now offer voluptuous languor after a hard day of exploring the ancient, intriguing landscape of this county.
Chapel Forth beach ready for the surfers. As far as we could tell, the yellow and red flag means that the bacon sarnies are available