Favourite British Scenic Drives: St Just To St Ives
The barbed Atlantic winds screamed at me relentlessly,
penetrating the bones and drowning the songs of seabirds. Cape
Cornwall stood defiantly in the face of the mighty Atlantic
Ocean, sculptured over time by driving currents, wind and rain.
Cape Cornwall lies in the far west of county Cornwall, deep in
the south-westerly reaches of England. Standing sentry against
the intensity of the Atlantic, Cape Cornwall guards the town of
St Just from the worst of the elements.
St Just is the last major town in England before the shipping
graveyard of Land's End and its treacherous stretch of rugged
coastline. A delightful little town, St Just is just minutes
from the ancient monument site of Carn Gluze on the Penwith
Heritage Coast.
Travelling north from St Just along the B3306, you soon descend
a steep gradient before passing through the sleepy little
village of Botallack. A little further is the enchanting
Pendeen, home to the old Geevor Tin Mines, offering a glimpse of
days gone by and unenviable working practises.
Pendeen Watch stands at the head of the shore, embedding you
amongst the jagged Cornish coastline at the mercy of the
elements and Atlantic Ocean. The South West Coast Path provides
opportunity to explore more of the seacoast.
The coastal road continued northeast through Morvah village and
the excellent coastal observation post Gurnards Head, before the
panorama broadened to incorporate a vast expanse of land slowly
descend as it approached the sea.
Vibrant coloured plants and shrubs blanketed the ground as they
raced across the decline towards the towering cliff tops,
stopping suddenly at the edge to observe the high seas. A fusion
of scents emanated from the vast array of flowers swaying in the
ocean breeze.
The narrow road continued to twist and turn slowly through the
pretty Cornish countryside. The monopoly of fields and shrubs
rescinded upon arrival of Zennor. Calm and peaceful, this serene
village seemed the perfect antidote to the rigours of modern day
city living.
A steep downhill gradient preceded the final approach to St Ives
with its tight cobbled streets and busy harbour. The land began
to rise again as the town neared. Tantalising glimpses of St
Ives Bay and a glut of sailing vessels suddenly emerged between
breaks in the houses.
The steep descent through cramped streets became a battle of
wills with pedestrians; everybody fought for the same space. A
fortunate place in the harbour car park left me gazing into the
Atlantic. The wind had now relented; all was calm again.