Cape Cornwall

It took a large mug of sweet tea and an even larger helping of carrot cake to propel me up the steep incline to the top of Cape Cornwall and the stunning views back across to Whitesand Bay and then out to the beauty of the majestic Atlantic sea.

The wind, already at warp factor 8, reached gusts unknown to mankind as I struggled up the poor effort of steps and a so called path to truly magnificent views. From here I waved happily and proudly back to CC who was safely stowed away in the motor with a sleeping MCC, a good book, black coffee and jam sponge cake.

There is something to be said for standing in getting on for gale force (lovely girl) winds and the thrill it sends through your nether regions. The improbable smile it released across my face was probably too much for some fellow walkers who suddenly appeared over the top of the cliff and couldn't seem to get away quick enough. Either that or it was the wind that took them......

This part of the UK is simply one of the most astounding. Here the currents roar around the headland as though released from all sense of normality, their headstrong joy in meeting with the splendour of the Atlantic. On an afternoon such as this the late afternoon sun makes it's way down towards the sea through its journey in the western skies as dolphins dance joyfully just a short distance from me out in the bay.

This view, this sheer bliss, was, apart from the petrol and the National Trust highly reasonable costs of cake and warm drinks, free. Free! For this joy! This is what we can know.

I worked my way carefully down the worn out steps, slate falling away and making walking rather too treacherous for my liking and then, at the bottom, I stand and watch some brave young souls diving into the sea off the harbour rocks. Then I turn, climb again up the coastal road to my waiting sweetheart and ask her smiling face if she got a shot of me in top of the hill. 'What hill?' She asks in all seriousness, her book proving far more interesting than my death defying climb.

'That hill!' I say in manly tones learnt from watching John Wayne films.

'Oh,' she says, laughter filling the car, 'I thought you said you were just going down to the bottom. Why not do it again?' she asks in all seriousness.....

I splutter that I have shots to prove it and that I don't need to go it again and she offers to get me more sweet tea. I swear the second mug was even better than the first.

Cape Cornwall. A national treasure.

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