Walkabout in St Ives (Cornwall my home)

Walkabout – St Ives (Cornwall)

The heavy veil of darkness hung over the town, a shroud broken only by few twinkling stars that looked down between the high clouds. A lonely street cleaner goes about his work, his labours broken for a moment as he chats with a solitary pedestrian carrying a tripod and a camera. The cobbled street lit by the light from shop windows and the odd lamp is suddenly quiet and deserted once again as both the cleaner and pedestrian turn a corner and disappear.

I walk down a narrow alley to the quayside and look out over the familiar, dimly lit harbour. The shadows of boats, resting on the sands for a few more moments as the tide rises inexorably around them. A bright green light shines from the lighthouse at the end of the pier while the lifeboat sits patiently in the station awaiting the next shout for help. The street is deserted. Not a soul about, just a few hopeful gulls sensing the coming day, wheel gently above the lampposts, invading the silence with their familiar cry. Light slowly begins to break the night’s grip on the eastern horizon and the sky turns a pale blue. My footsteps echo gently as I walk along, stopping next to a large pot of blooming agapanthus. I sit down facing the coming dawn. A few curious turnstones appear close by. The sky gets brighter and the thin layer of cloud turns golden, while the blues get deeper and deeper. A woman appears with her dog and strolls slowly down the slipway into the sandy harbour. A man joins her and they chat while the dogs splash and play in the slowly rising water. A young woman appears from behind me and sits down two benches away. She pulls a small bag from her pocket and begins feeding the turnstones who flock around her feet. The water flows into the rippled channels in the sand as the tide continues to flood. A small island forms at the end of the pier becoming more defined as the sky gets brighter.

I leave the young lady with her friendly birds and walk along the quay past the slipway to the end and turn left up the cobbled street. I walk on past a small beach, car park, cafe, coloured chalets and down the wooden steps. I bend down and take off my sandals, taking a moment to wiggle my toes in the soft Cornish sand. A lone fisherman has cast his line hopefully into the surf, while a photographer, camera on tripod, awaits the imminent dawn. Footprints mark my progress, then I stop and look east. The sky has turned orange and blue as the sun peeps above the horizon painting a ribbon of golden yellow across the sea.  The waves break around the rocks as they have for thousands of years, while water washes the sand before retreating once more. An optimistic gull swoops down and settles on the fisherman’s bait box. The sun continues to herald the day until it is a golden yellow circle of light hanging in the heavens. It is reflected in the glass of the cafe and I begin to sense the warmth.

I pause for some time enjoying the peace and quiet of the early morning before returning, through the back streets, to the road above the harbour beach. A lone white van turns the corner and after a short distance, stops. The driver climbs out opens the rear doors and piles boxes onto a trolley and wheels it into a nearby cafe. There are more people on the street now, some carrying a takeaway coffee which they eagerly sip as they walk along. In the distance, a train drifts into the station. A fisherman is working on his boat as the tide rises around it. I take a deep breath of the cool fresh morning air and walk on. After refuelling, with a coffee and almond croissant,  in a small cafe on the cobbled street behind the quay, I return to the harbour.

The street is getting busy. Visitors stride along carrying vibrant rolled up umbrellas and windbreaks, hats perched on heads as they head to claim their spot on the beaches. Some take a seat outside one of the harbour side cafes and order breakfast while others climb stairs and grab the table by the window with an unbroken view across the harbour and bay beyond. The smell of coffee, bacon and baking pasties hangs in the air. The pleasure boat operators set up, hand out leaflets and take early bookings. More delivery drivers unload and drive on. Another train arrives. I think it will be a busy and crowded town today providing a welcome boost to the local economy. With a last glance back at the harbour I head home for the day.

Golden hour had begun to weave its magic some minutes ago as I picked my way through the bustling street before cutting left and disappearing into a quiet back road leading toward my destination. As the shadows begin to lengthen I descend the stone steps, next to the cafe, onto the sloping beach. The tide is out revealing rocks and wet sand in equal measure. Sunset is rapidly approaching as I set the camera on the tripod and point it towards the western horizon. Slowly the sun and sky become a deep yellow, almost golden, and I take a few photos. There were many others who have the same idea and had made their way to this popular sunset location. The beach faces the north west and in summer the sun sets into the sea before moving south, as autumn approaches, hiding behind the western headland for the winter. People in the cafe, holiday accommodation and just leaning on the wall watch in wonder as the sun disappears and the ribbon of yellow light on the sea fades to nothing. Some spectators begin to drift away at this point but twenty minutes after the sun sets the atmosphere filters out the yellow light, turning the sky orange then a deep red providing a stunning end to the daylight hours. I take some more shots.

Time marches on and it becomes darker, the street lamps flicker into life, the shop windows light up and reflect in the water. I nip into the Harbourside Inn and order a pint of real ale, grab a bench outside and settle down to people watch. Families wander by chatting happily, the odd car drives past, a couple munch on fish and chips as they watch a car drive up the slipway from the harbour towing a dinghy. It is getting late now and I wander back down the street behind the quay as the last stragglers leave the restaurants and pubs and weave their way home. By the time I reach the car park the veil of darkness has descended once more over the town, the high cloud blocking out the stars. I look down over the harbour and listen …. to the sound of silence. I catch the last train. The end of another day. Time for bed.
Cornwall – My home.