West Cornwall

Gribbin Head

Basic hike: from car park above Menabilly Barton, south to Gribbin Head, and
then north along coast to Polkerris before returning inland by footpath and
lane.

Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 107 - St Austell and Liskeard.

Distance and going: four miles, easy going.

Having written about the walking opportunities provided by the Daphne du Maurier Centenary Festival in the Western Morning News recently several readers have asked if I could enlarge upon one of my favourite strolls in du Maurier Country. Happy to oblige.

One of the best coastal sections of this wonderful domain is to be found just west of Fowey. J.R.A. Hocking put it this way in 'Walking in Cornwall': "All day long one can lie on that suavely sloping point on a carpet of thrift and primroses watching the gulls in echoing coves."

Mr Hocking continues: "A fox may come trotting intently round the wide curve of the headland, and in the dusk you may meet one of the badgers who I am told live in the wood below the daymark under masses of rhododendrons and wild garlic. But there are seldom more signs of man than some Swede or Dutchman waiting for a pilot off the slit in the cliffs that is the entrance to Fowey Harbour, or perhaps an old three-master, white with clay, standing round the Dodman for the Lizard, or the Mevagissey fleet drifting across the bay."

Note that all maps on this site are only indicative. You should never set out without the correct OS map.

I suppose you might still see a three-master coming in or out of Charlestown, given its unique collection of tall ships. And there are fishermen who sail from Mevagissey and clay boats that ply their trade from Fowey and Par. But I saw no fox trotting over the beautiful headland of the Gribbin.

But it was more than a sweetly written sentence by Hocking that sent me out to that far-flung promontory. I had been in St Austell and thought I’d like to get a view of it from afar. The thought occurred to me because, as you may know, Cornwall's biggest town is a sprawling sort of place.

I figured that Gribbin Head across St Austell Bay would afford me the perfect panorama, and it did. Go there in the evening as the lights begin to twinkle across St Austell Bay, and you get a fabulous view of this central chunk of the Cornish south coast. The whole shooting match is dominated by the conical shaped kaolin 'alps' and the effect goes to make up one of the most extraordinary vistas in the region.

This is a somewhat abbreviated amble compared to the massive and magnificent circular route you could do, but it's a most enjoyable hour-long stroll nevertheless. Longer, if you call in at the pub at Polkerris - which I'd like to recommend but had no time for, due to the increasing darkness of the night.

To reach the area take the Fowey road (A3082) out of Par, go through Polmear, climb the hill and turn right for Menabilly at the top. The lane follows the ridge of the hill until the public part of it terminates at Hambland above Menabilly Barton. There you'll find a car park, so that you can leave the car and begin the walk by proceeding down past the Barton towards the sea.

The old lane has the feel of ages about it and if I was directing a swashbuckling movie about smuggling I'd use it as a venue for a brandy-scented scramble. This atmosphere of furtive sea-going adventure is especially noticeable the nearer the track gets to the twin beaches at Polridmouth.

The place is pronounced 'Pridmouth' and I am told it's popular with locals during summer months. Nevertheless, writer Liz Luck in her National Trust handbook says that even on a summer's day "This little bay can have a strangely melancholy and brooding air, perhaps because it has been for so long a very private place, deep in the feudal embrace of Rashleigh land."

I understand the Rashleigh's are still embracing the land around here - they own the estate at Menabilly. Daphne du Maurier rented the old place for a while years ago, and it certainly haunted her. It features in Rebecca, one of her best-known novels, where it's referred to as brooding Manderley.

At Polridmouth we take the coast path south, across a small hill, and up the steep slope to the Gribbin itself. This is everything Hocking promised it would be and more, especially in the evenings when the 84 feet red and white daymark points like a glowing finger into darkening skies. Local writer A.L. Rowse caught the mood exactly in a poem called The Gribbin, Palm Sunday 1943:

Fragile and rosy in evening light,
Behind, the lovely headland lies,
The landmark loved of mariners
Catches the last glow in the skies.

Liz Luck says the daymark looks "good enough to eat," and I know what she means in a stick-of-rock sort of way. The tower, and the end of the peninsula, belongs to the National Trust and Liz, who writes for the organisation, told me: "The daymark is open on summer Sundays. We have to have someone out there to keep an eye on it when we let people in, because climbing to the top is a bit of an adventure - specially where it gets dark near the top. Great fun for kids."

So, my return visit to this area will be on one of those summer Sundays, because climbing to the top of the tower has become one of my many modest ambitions. But you get a marvellous enough vista without hoisting yourself up the 84 feet, and walkers will no doubt dally at the Gribbin before heading north along the coast towards the ancient fishing hamlet of Polkerris.

There's a footpath which heads inland just before the little port and, with great reluctance, this was the one I took because by now darkness had overtaken me. I look forward to visiting the place properly, and enjoying a pint at the inn, next time I'm in Rashleigh country. As it was I climbed up to the lane to Menabilly, turned right, and returned to my car.

I'd enjoyed an hour of quality time after a day of driving and deadlines, and somehow the long journey home wasn't as intimidating now I'd been haunted by the brooding mystery of Daphne du Maurier's romantic Cornwall.

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