SUNNY CORNISH MAGIC

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.