Porth

Going 'home' to where I grew up and raised a family, was an odd experience. So much was unchanged; headlands that we walked, caves that we explored, the rock where I got stuck and nearly had to be rescued. Other places, though, have changed almost beyond recognition, as rolling acres of farmland have produced large crops of houses and once familiar palatial hotels have been demolished or redeveloped.  Even the hotel that was my childhood home lies derelict, awaiting the developer's bulldozer. 

For 20 years, Porth was my home beach and Porth Island my playground, where my friends and I hid amid Bronze Age earthworks and defended them against imagined invaders. To my mind it's a spectacularly beautiful place to while away a few hours in the summer sunshine. That I've been able to do so twice within the space of a few months is a bonus, particularly as the tide was out during the afternoon of my first visit, and in during the second.  These photographs are drawn from both occasions.

This narrow gap separates the mainland from Porth Island. When the tide is in and a storm is blowing, waves smash through here, throwing spray as high as that bridge. I know; I've stood there and received a face full.

The outgoing tide takes longer to clear the other end of the gap.  That's Norwegian Rock in the centre, though why it's so called is a mystery to me. I do know that a ship once foundered there, so perhaps that's the connexion. Like many rocks on that side of the headland, it's been disfigured by mining.

No sea spray today! Behind me is one of the Bronze Age ramparts and on the skyline a barrow (burial mound).

In this view, looking back towards the mainland, you can clearly see the ramparts on either side of the bridge, and a third line of defence running diagonally across the headland beyond them.

That dark cave-like shape in the cliff on the left has a story to tell...

Here's a closer look at it, to the right of Norwegian Rock. It's all that's left of the Banqueting Hall, a large cave, made still larger through mining, where concerts were once held.

I well remember entering the cave many times through a hole in the rock to the left of this old postcard photo. One winter's day, whilst carrying out an Auxiliary Coastguard patrol, I discovered that part of the roof had collapsed, leaving a dangerous hole in the ground above. The Council hastily erected a protective fence around it, but from that day the hall lost much of its magic as light streamed in from above.

Then, in 1987 the whole cave was deemed to be unsafe, so the company for whom I worked was called in to blow it up. (No, they didn't ask me to help!)  Many locals, and even an 'expert' I once spoke to, believe that the decision to destroy it was taken in haste and that the historic cave could have been saved.

At the end of Porth Island is the Blowing Hole. On this visit there was only enough swell running to produce a gentle mist, so to give you a taste of its ferocity, here's a photo that I took on New Year's Day 2008. Impressive, eh?

An older photo, probably taken in the 1980's and rescued from a deteriorating colour slide.

Finally, a look back towards Newquay