With summer hopefully here at
last, it will not be long now before I make my first trek of the year out to
one of my favourite little places on God’s earth. Among those before me who felt the same way
about this place was Falmouth’s celebrated artist Henry Scott Tuke (1858-1929),
who many times captured its magic on canvas.
Tuke had his house and studio
on the outskirts of the town, just above Swanpool Beach and overlooking the
bay. A short walk away is one of the
coves where he would paint his trade-mark male nude figures. Although that cove is not named as such on
any map, it was and is known to all locals as “Sunny Cove.”
The remains of Tuke’s studio
and house, now long since gone, were still clearly visible when I first visited
this delightful little beach. That was
way back in the early 1960s when, as part of a group of pupils from Falmouth
Grammar School, we were led down there by our teacher, Mr F L Jukes, to obtain
our 25 yards swimming certificate.
It was a world without fear,
long since lost. I was not quite out of
childhood then and the health and safety brigade belonged very much to the
future. Which was just as well, given
the precarious nature of the cliffside access to Sunny.
But that trek, which is not a
lot safer even today, was and is well worth it.
More than anything, it is a beautiful escape to an enchanting little
oasis of peace in a troubled world.
It is “far from the madding
crowd,” yet just 15 minutes’ walk from the bustle of Falmouth town life. Indeed, one travel writer described it as
“the most remote beach close to any urban conurbation anywhere in the south
west.” I can believe that.
On a fine summer’s day, the
walk to Sunny is a treat, with countless insects buzzing away in the fields and
woodland, the seagulls circling overhead, and an azure Falmouth Bay stretching
out for as far as the eye can see.
The approach is almost as
delightful as the place itself – that lovely clifftop walk followed by a
descent through the woodland, then a bit of hard work down the cliffside and
along the rocks. Finally, Sunny greets
you with its crystal-clear waters shimmering in the sunlight. It is truly a little bit of paradise found.
Two arms of rock about 35
yards apart jut some 30 yards out to sea.
Sunny Cove is disturbed in the main only by nature’s sounds and, being
tucked in behind Pennance Point, is sheltered from the prevailing south-westerly
winds.
It all makes for a wonderful
swimming haunt – for me and, latterly, my children, too. And now, with Father Time getting to grips
with me, I find sitting on those rocks beside the water to be a restful,
reflective experience beyond measure.
Sunny Cove’s magic lives on . . . and I will shortly savour it anew.
