Pentire Point and The Rumps. Where Legacy Meets Landscape.

We have been fortunate over the past few years to enjoy an annual family holiday in Polzeath, on the North Cornish coast. This place is now synonymous not only with surfing, V-Dubs, and sandy beaches but also with a growing number of magnificent homes and an air of exclusivity. However, my most enshrined memories of this place can be categorised into two distinct themes.

Firstly, as time marches on, it has been heartwarming to witness the children playing and interacting together with a sense of freedom and adventure. They have managed to maintain their ability to simply be children, even as their teenage traits begin to prickle. They still enjoy the waves, the beach, and evening board games just as much as they did five years ago. When asked about their favourite holiday destination, Polzeath with their cousins remains the top choice every time. The allure of the surf quickly helps them forget about PlayStations and Snapchat as they wrestle into wetsuits and stuff bodyboards under their arms. Indeed, standing on the clifftop and gazing over the bay, the sight of so many people enjoying the sea serves as a reassuring nod to the enduring wonder of the Great British seaside holiday.

The second thing that I love about coming here is purely related to the landscape. The Coastal Path runs beyond the bay and winds its way up towards the headland at Pentire Point. Like any landmark, it continuously draws your eye upward, igniting a sense of curiosity that is hard to ignore. Even though I have walked this path on a number of occasions before, that magnetic attraction never fades. A compulsion to leave the crowds behind and step into an altogether ancient world.

With boots on, binoculars and camera packed, I found the time to lose myself, just for a couple of hours. Coastal walking often progresses slowly due to the terrain and the frequent need to pause and look back, but there was no rush. I know that the South West Coastal Path has become incredibly popular over the past few years, with more and more hardy souls taking on the challenge of covering the staggering and varied 630 miles between Poole and Minehead. No mean feat for sure, and one that no doubt offers those who complete it a level of achievement that is hard to comprehend. For me, though, today’s wander will only cover around four miles, providing me with more than enough to see and consider. Starting at the beautiful Pentireglaze Haven, I pondered my way to the summit and the further serenity that lay out of view.

At a little over a mile, the distance always seems further to the eye than it is in reality. Nevertheless, it was a welcome break to sit and look back at Polzeath and the Camel Estuary. The wind provided the only soundtrack to the scene, making it all the more satisfying. This was especially true when considering that Padstow lay on the periphery of my view. A charming harbour town without question, but one that attracts such crowds that the experience can feel more like a test of character and patience than anything else. We all occasionally fall prey to the herd mentality, opting for familiar routes and well-trodden destinations. But perched here, I recognise that I am among many who seek to break free from the throngs. My reward? Enjoying this breathtaking spot in solitude, if only for a little while.

Rested, I turned east towards what I consider to be the highlight of the walk. Somewhere that has become ingrained in my sense of how powerful and moving the landscape can be. ‘The Rumps’ commands your attention almost immediately on walking away from Pentire. This twin-headed promontory rises proudly from the sea and must be amongst the most striking Iron Age forts in the country. It’s astonishing to think that people once thrived here, which sparks a profound connection between humanity and this enduring landscape.

With the full vista of ‘The Rumps’ in sight, the most significant part of the walk sits quietly and unexpectantly on the edge of the grassy clifftop. A small plaque offers the words: Composed on these cliffs, 1914.

For The Fallen

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old.

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning.

We will remember them.

Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

I am hard pushed to think of anywhere that I’ve been that can match the poignancy that this place offers. A few simple lines, heard every year across the country as we come together as a nation for remembrance, were composed in a location that offers such peace and contemplation. It elevates what is already a spectacular view into something completely different. The permanence of this rugged coastline, which has endured and supported us through the centuries, transcends time and acts as a powerful reminder of how insignificant we are. Mere visitors.

Calmly looking out beyond, I allow myself to take stock. To consider the words and the meaning that they resonate. Doubling down on my conviction that kindness, compassion and respect are the only real antidotes to the increasingly worrying world that we live in. A world so entrenched in the need to seek approval whilst disproving others. Where the immediacy of news fosters hasty opinions and growing divisions. Sitting here, it becomes easier to put that into perspective and reassert the notion that controlling the controllables is the best way to navigate life without anxieties taking over.

Legacy can be best described as the lasting impact that certain events or actions by people in the past have had on our lives today. When I consider the depth of pleasure derived from these holidays, both through the joy of sharing family time, alongside the ability to walk freely within a dramatic and ancient landscape, it is impossible not to feel moved by the words placed upon that simple plaque. Standing high above the town and looking down at the thousands of people enjoying the liberty that we perhaps take too easily for granted is a timely reminder of how grateful we should all be for those simple pleasures and opportunities afforded to us. This is not a melancholy feeling, but certainly one that helps to make me feel grounded.

In recent months, I’ve sought to not only refine my writing style but also deepen my appreciation for landscapes and what they mean to me. Their therapeutic qualities are undeniable, whether it’s the wind on my face, the threat of rain, or the warmth of the sun. It’s in these expansive spaces without ceilings that I find the freedom to get lost in thought and process what weighs most heavily on my mind. Perhaps it’s their vastness or my perceived unimportance in the grand scheme of things that allows me to simply be myself.

As I turned to follow the winding coastal path back down to Polzeath, I inhaled deeply, savouring the fresh sea air one last time. The path, familiar yet ever-changing, seemed to guide my feet effortlessly. This place holds a special significance for me, a retreat I know I will return to again and again. The beauty of the landscape and the sense of peace it offers are treasures I look forward to revisiting.