Maggie and I spent a very stormy week in Perranporth at the start of September. We arrived at our caravan park (Liskey Hill) in the early evening and wandered down to the beach. The tide was out and the vast expanse of beach and sky stretched out before us, the clouds reflected in the wet sand. The excitement – of the wind and the crashing waves and the space to run – got to both of us. I took off my shoes, put Maggie on her long line and we raced down to the water’s edge to dip our toes in the Atlantic.
There are deep, clear rock pools on the Perranporth end of the beach, which Maggie happily wallowed in, as well as cool rock formations. You can walk for miles if you want to – when the tide is out, you can get to Perran sands along the beach, or pick up the coast path in either direction. We walked to Perran sands later in the week, but got caught in a rain storm. Thank goodness for the multitude of caves, stained green and red with minerals, that line the top of the beach – excellent for exploring whilst sheltering from the weather. Maggie made me laugh in one of them; she disappeared at full pelt into the darkness at the back of the cave, only to come charging out again two seconds later with her tail between her legs – something must have spooked her, because she didn’t go in again and neither did I! Piskies perhaps!
The town itself is small, but has all the usual tourist amenities; chips, ice-cream, tat shops, pasties, and a beach front carpark – this last was particularly good for us, as we had some nasty weather during the week. Snuggled in the back of the van with a cup of tea, a bag of chips and a good book whilst watching the surfers battle the wind, rain and vast waves was cosy and one of the nicest bits of our holiday.
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