Rinsey Cove, Praa Sands to Porthleven, Cornwall

Time: 1hr 45 one way

Length: 3.5 miles

Ascent and Descent: 250m

Difficulty: Moderate - some mud, some steep bits!

Wildlife: Not a seal or dolphin in sight today

The walk started at Rinsey Cove, a free car park which overlooks the wonderfully iconic house of Rinsey Head, which is said to have been the nearby tin mine's count house and is now a luxury air bnb with panoramic views.

Surprisingly, the lovely mine of Wheal Prosper, one of the heritage spots of mining here in Cornwall, did not last for long and was only a working mine between 1860-1866. It's still standing, although some maintenance seems to be happening there under the stewardship of the National Trust.

There are some wonderful accounts on Cornish Bird Blog, and I especially enjoy the accounts of the locals of the mine: 

The story of Wheal Trewavas begins in about 1834. That year the Mining Journal reported that profitable lodes had been discovered there “by some of those amphibious creatures who obtain their livelihoods by fishing in the summer and mining in the winter”. 

The walk went from dry and easy to more muddy and steep, with two large staircases to the top of the path. We both overheated, and I was amazed to find out Mum had not just two coats and a thermal jumper on, but three jumpers, which she peeled off before we could continue! (We have Willow with us for this walk)

Here is Camel Rock, which we thought looked like a rather imposing eagle.

There are many cormorants here enjoying their winter on the coast of Cornwall, and so many varieties of bracken and gorse along the path. Plenty of inaccessible or hard to access coves open up between each cliff.

My friend recently told me about gorse wine, one of the best country wines we can make in the UK and which has a coconut flavour that lingers after the brewing process. I tried some of it, and it certainly tasted better than the gorse we sampled together as watered by the Basingstoke Canal. There was an elusive morning sun that traced our pathway all the way to Porthleven, interesting cloud formations gathering under its base. 

Descending into Porthleven we got to see the captivating 'Man and Fish' sculpture which I learned was built last September. There's something very timeless about its design - I thought it had been there for many years. It's made by Cornish artist Holly Bendall using a traditional lost wax process at the Lost Foundry. Today they are wrapped up warmly in a little scarf for each of them.

A local press release quotes Holly as saying:

“My sculpture highlights the importance of keeping alive Cornwall’s small-boat fishing traditions, and calls on the observer to think about where the fish we eat here in the UK actually comes from.

“Cornish heritage and fishing are completely intertwined, and some of our local communities still rely on fishing to survive. But most of us have become so used to the convenience of buying industrially-caught fish in the supermarket, and this is having a serious knock-on effect on our small-boat fishermen and marine life.”

A sign at the town says that Praa Sands is 5 miles away back along our route. The path is well sign posted, like almost all of the Cornwall walks I've been on. Many places are closed for January, including the Shipyard Market until 18 February. It's a shame that the trade can't be sustained all year around, and that tourism mostly comes in the holidays and summer - the winter is a beautiful time in the south west. There is an ice cream parlour open and we sit and eat Damson Ripple ice cream in a sudden burst of sunlight.

We walk back along the path and now the sky has cleared. The wind is still cold (I wouldn't say three thermal jumpers and two coats cold, but enough for a hat and gloves) - but the touches of sunlight are warming and illuminate the sea.

One beauty I can appreciate about doing the south coast of Cornwall in the winter is seeing the sun rising and setting in the south across the same stretch of sea. I can now see the sun setting ahead of me where only this morning it was climbing in front of us. Perhaps I'll do more of the north coast during the summer, when the days are longer and the sun aligned more directly overhead.

Much love,

Littlest and Mum x