PORTHALLOW
On the 6th November 2009 my wife, Jacky, and I took a five hour journey by car to the little village of Porthallow on the east coast of The Lizard peninsula, Cornwall, England. This piece of land is the most southerly of mainland Britain. It has beautiful countryside and picturesque fishing villages nestling in wooded valleys. We stayed in Headland Cottage on the north end of the beach. A very nicely appointed cottage with fine views of the pebble beach and bay.
There are many places to visit on The Lizard which are too numerous for me to mention here. I suggest a Google search will give you far more information than I can give. Suffice to say that the area is very popular with holiday makers, especially during the summer holidays. Indeed I have spent may holidays down here since the late 1960s. My parents used to take my brother and I to parts of Cornwall in a little 850 cc Austin Mini. (BXC 991B. How we all got in it with all our luggage I shall never know!). In those days, before the motorways and major roads were built, it used to take us as long as fifteen hours to get to our destination. It was in the days of the “Factory Fortnight” when most of Britain’s industry shut up shop for two weeks a year and everyone took to the roads: Chaos! Queues everywhere!
There are two roads into Porthhallow: One on the north side of the valley and one on the south. They meet just in front of the sea wall. To get to Headland Cottage we had to drive through the wall and turn immediately left and park under the cottage by the South West Coast Path. (Something I’ve always wanted to walk in its entirety.) To get to the cottage you have to climb the steps and turn left to the door which is a split stable type. Great in the summer but we didn’t use it in November!.
The cottage has a tiled floor in the kitchen and wooden floors throughout the rest. Great views from the bay window, out as well as looking in! There’s a multi fuel stove should you have some fuel.
As you can see there’s a fishy, sea/nautical theme throughout the cottage which is very pleasant. The kitchen has everything you could possibly need for self catering. Below: One of the three bedrooms, the main above the living room, has a very pleasant aspect of the bay.
Above is the view from the door towards Porthallow Arts centre and the Five Pilchards pub to the right with the smoking chimney. On the left of the car park you can see the bonfire being built for the 5th November celebrations. Below: The building of the fireworks display which was to be set off just outside of our cottage. The photo after this is looking back at the cottage (left with blue door).
On the first evening Jacky and I went for a drink in the Five Pilchards pub. Nice pub with a strong nautical theme running throughout. Not, may I say, manufactured like so many pubs these days but quite genuine. This was a busy pilchard and herring fishing community in days gone by and I suspect many a sailor drank at the Pilchard’s bar. The landlord is very friendly and the beer/food excellent. We were soon chatting to a local and in a short time more turned up and much to our satisfaction it was announced that there would be a talk on keeping chickens on Tuesday night by a very knowledgeable local gentleman. Having our own hens we looked forward to the evening.
Before his unfortunate redundancy from Shakespeare fishing tackle, Redditch, my friend purchased for me a 9’ Expedition beach caster rod with reel, line and lures. The first attempt at fishing from the rocks on the north end of the beach showed my inexperience by loosing a couple of lures. I was about to try somewhere else less taxing to a beginner when I got a bite! A quick glance out to sea revealed, what appeared to be, a bird after my catch! It didn’t take long for me to realise that the bird was the catch. I was quite upset with this state of affairs.... I’m supposed to be fishing not birding. Nevertheless action needed to be taken and quickly so with the bird diving and surfacing I managed to get it to a point where I could get a hold of it. This meant clambering over slippery rocks with rod in hand and seriously annoyed bird flapping around. Being used to handling domestic fowl Jacky held the bird (a Guilemot) whilst I took the hook out of the extreme end of the wing’s digit. No harm done, just a slight wound, so back to its element it went. The bird swam down and away from sight.
I decided that I wasn’t experienced enough to continue fishing here so I decided to pack up and go back to the cottage. Jacky and I spent a short time collecting up the litter left by previous fishermen: camping Gaz cylinder, Tesco chicken curry and rice trays, plastic bags and Rizla packets. Why do they leave such a mess? I always ask myself.
I decided I would try beach casting at first light next morning as this would put me at an advantage. I thought if I brought the lure through the water just under the surface it would catch any light available and any marauding fish would strike without much thought. The rod was set up and ready for me at 0630 in the morning. After a cup of strong tea I set off in the dark for the beach. In a short time I had two Pollock weighing about 1/2 pound but put them back as they were too small and then caught a good 2.25 pound sea bass. I was surprised at the lack of a fight the fish put up. This is the largest wild fish I’ve caught and the pollock put up more of a fight. I later learned that this is the case. I also learned that a fish of this size would put you back about £25 if you wish to purchase one. I tried again in the evening and caught another pollock which I kept, being large enough. The following few days gave me another two pollock one of which I kept.
Before all this happened we had the 5th November bonfire and fireworks display to look forward to. The locals had spent the windy day putting up the marquee, erecting the bonfire and laying out the firework display all on the beach. As is usual with this celebration it was held on the nearest Saturday (7th). Everyone trooped down to the beach after dark and purchased food from the marquee. The fire was torched and the firework display commenced. No sooner had everyone started to enjoy the wind swept fire and display then it started to rain. And did it rain! It absolutely hammered it down! We were wearing our waterproof coats but in no time at all our legs were soaked. I shone my torch down onto the pebbles to reveal the surface shimmering with bouncing hail stones. Everyone did their duty and stayed to the end of the display then made for cover. Either home or to the pub.
Next day, Sunday 8th, was Remembrance Day. And as is usual with Jacky and I, we made for the nearest parade which happened to be at the village of St. Keverne. We had a lovely, though rather cold, walk over the fields and reached the square in St. Keverne. The war memorial is in the centre of the square and all the roads into the village were closed off. We were a good hour early and beginning to think we might freeze to the spot before the laying of the wreaths. It was an excellent ceremony with a brass band in attendance and the two minute silence observed.
On the way there we saw a lovely rainbow over Porthallow but didn’t find a pot of gold.
One thing we were determined to do was to purchase a fresh crab off a fisherman. Or, indeed, anything fresh so the next day we visited the fishing village of Cadgwith. We were a bit early for the boats so we popped to the Cadgwith Cove Inn for a pint of very good beer. The boats came in at about 14:00 and offloaded their catch of crabs. I popped round the back of a lorry and asked for one. It was an enormous cock crab and cost a very reasonable £4. (I know hen crabs are better but I wasn’t going to argue!) We took it home, dispatched it with a sharp implement and had it for tea. Delicious! Absolutely spot on!
It’s been a bit of a tradition eating crab on holiday, ever since I was a child. I remember being in Cornwall on holiday when I was about eight years old and we drove past a house with a sign up outside: Fresh cooked crabs for sale. We pulled over and dad knocked on the door. When asked how big a crab did he want by the lady he suggested something about the £4 mark. She looked a little worried and replied: “I’m sorry but I don’t have anything near that size.” Dad was of course thinking of Birmingham market prices. We had her largest crab and took it with us to a peaceful grass verge out in the countryside, spread out a ground-sheet and tucked into the crab using spanners and screwdrivers from the car’s tool kit. Lovely except for the hoards of flies!
On one day we decided to take a walk north along the South West Coastal Path to Gillan via Nare Point then back to Porthallow over land. It was a really nice day with great views. We found some wood blewits in a field which we took home and cooked and also loads of magic mushrooms which, needless to say, we left. On the beach at Gillan we came across loads of free range fowl. I’ve heard of chicken in a basket but not chicken in a boat!.
The air in these parts is particularly clean by virtue of the SW prevailing wind. (Nothing between Cornwall and the Americas.) As a result there’s some pretty impressive lichens growing on the trees.
Above: Lichen growing on a tree branch and right: Chickens in a catamaran, Gillan.
On the evening of the last Friday I did some more beach casting. I still couldn’t quite get the hang of casting the lure any great distance. I’d bought some new lures from a tackle shop in Helston. I thought the swivel on one of the lures looked a little small and I was soon proved right by the swivel parting in the middle and the lure disappeared into the distance. Whilst all this was happening I noticed a van pull up on the beach and after a while a chap came over and introduced himself as “Mat the Fisherman” He showed me how to cast properly and promptly lost the end of my rod in the surf. We spent a few merry moments dashing in and out of the surf. What with it raining and having only walking boots on my feet I got rather wet. We managed to retrieve the tip and got chatting. He is looking towards renting a building on the front at Porthallow and doing fishing trips in the summer and, much the same as with me, teaching beach casting etc. During the winter he does maintenance for the holiday trade.
Mat suggested where to fish and asked me if I’d caught anything. When I said about the bass he remarked that he knew some people who had fished this beach for years and had never caught a bass. He seemed quite impressed with me even though my technique was a little unorthodox! I had noticed a couple regularly fishing the beach and the next evening I came out to fish they came along some time later. I introduced myself and asked if they’d caught anything the previous days to which the reply was no. They said they were locals and were always fishing the beach. I told them about my short stay and my attempt at fishing for the first time in twenty years and about the sea bass to which the lady turned to her partner and said “I told you there were bass out there!” Could these be the ones Mat was referring to? They asked me when I had caught it and I replied “first light”. That’s it then! they said, first light tomorrow it is! I decided to fish right over by the rocks out of their way and on the second cast hooked something that looked like a garfish but, to my relief, it came off the hook before I could land it! (I thought this would be rubbing their noses in it and I was in the strange position of wanting to catch something but not in front of anyone, if you know what a mean. It was like being at school again: deliberately getting a low score in my spelling tests so the teacher wouldn’t accuse me of cheating!) Half a dozen casts later I landed a garfish (No choice this time) which was over the minimum size so that went in the bag. Strange fish: green bones and slime! but good to eat and very elegant.
I went back to the cottage after this but came down again next morning at 0630 hours but caught nothing. I went back happy but empty handed at about 0900. The couple came down to fish soon after I left the beach. (first light!?)
Jacky and I thoroughly enjoyed our stay in Porthallow and could quite easily have moved down there to live. Great village, very friendly locals that made us feel as though we were part of the community. I am now completely “hooked” on sea fishing and it’s a pity we live just about as far from the sea as is possible in England. The “chicken talk” was well attended and we were made to feel really welcome. This could be a regular thing, me thinks! There is something undoubtedly wonderful about winter beach holidays in the UK, without all the tourists. This short break was just about the most relaxing and rewarding we have had in years. We look forward to doing it again.
