Coverack to Maenporth: South West Coast Path Day 28 Guide

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With two river crossings and very few campsites near the trail, today was always going to be a long day. An early start seemed like a good idea, and waking up as the sun peeked over the horizon confirmed it. Even after brewing my morning coffee, I still found myself walking down the lane into Coverack before 7:30 a.m.

On the upside, it was even more lovely at this time of morning than it had been the night before, with a beautiful sunrise and nobody else around to see it. On the downside, it meant Loft Cafe was nowhere near open yet: it looked great and had been my one hope for breakfast in the village this morning.

Oh well. It wasn’t the first time I’d marched on an empty stomach on this walk, and wouldn’t be the last. Walking around the stone harbour and past the equally-stony beach, I started out around the broad sweep of Coverack Cove with just my rumbling stomach for company.

The path started off slightly inland before rejoining the coast for an often grassy, sometimes boggy, and always empty mile and a half stretch out around the headland. There were large rocks covering the beaches and all around the trail, but unlike yesterday, the path went around them rather than straight over top. My feet couldn’t have been more thrilled with this development.

The Coast Path hadn’t been short of quiet, empty sections lately, but the stiff breeze and rugged terrain made this part feel especially isolated. That feeling only increased after I rounded the headland and passed the remnants of an old quarry; it was all pretty dystopian thanks to the chainlink fence, graffiti, and general dilapidation.

Dystopian doesn’t mean uninteresting, of course: if you’re into post-industrial decay, you’ll likely find it fascinating. For everyone else, including me, the views were better in any other direction: it’s an attractive stretch of coastline, as long as you’re not looking inland.

There’d been some cloud cover all morning, and while it never really went away all day, some patches were a lot sunnier than others. One of those showed up now at just right time, as I left the old quarry buildings behind and emerged onto a small beach just before Lowland Point. The soft grass at the back of the beach was the only invitation I needed to stop for a snack and ten minutes of basking in the sunshine.

There have been a bunch of route changes in this area in the last year or two, mostly thanks to the new coastal access rights that came into being as part of the England Coast Path. This means that a lot of maps and guidebooks, including the ones I was using, don’t necessarily match the current route. Here, more than perhaps anywhere else along the path, keep an eye out for signposts!

The first of those changes showed up here; the old route used to take you inland to Rosenithon, but the path now stays close to the coast, climbing steeply over Lowland Point and down the other side into the hamlet of Porthoustock.

The next bit between Porthoustock and Porthallow has changed substantially; the old inland route is now marked as such, while the main route now follows the coastline instead, past disused quarries and Porthkerris Cove and along Porthallow Cove.

That new route had apparently been active for three months by the time I got there, but either I was oblivious to the new signage or it wasn’t particularly obvious. Either way I kept following the path inland on my map, blissfully unaware that anything had changed.

There’s nothing particularly bad about the inland route, other than that you’re mostly walking on country lanes instead than footpaths: it was quite wooded, and honestly, a nice change from the rocks and wind on the coast. Another bonus? It runs very close to the Fat Apples Cafe.

To be fair, I would have been thrilled by this cafe’s existence no matter what it was like–I’d been on the go for a couple of hours by this point and very much in need of breakfast. Luckily, not only were the staff friendly and the ambiance chilled, but the food was excellent.

Apparently I’m not the only one who thinks that: I arrived right on opening time to an empty cafe, and there wasn’t a spare table in the place by the time I left an hour later. Honestly, I’m a bit sad that the main Coast Path route no longer goes past this cafe; it really is a great place to stop.

Still, it’s not like it’s completely inaccessible if you do want to visit: it’s about half a mile from where the two trails join at Porthallow Beach, so you could easily wander up the road to it if you wanted to.

That’s what I suggested to a couple of other walkers who were milling around at the beach looking for somewhere to eat; they’d just realised that the beach cafe was closed today and the pub didn’t open for another hour and half.

They eventually decided they’d rather just have their packed lunch for breakfast instead, but while they were making that decision, I asked them to take a photo of me in front of a very meaningful lump of metal and stone.

I’d finally made it to the halfway point, 315 miles from both Minehead and Poole. Like most such points, it felt both like I’d come a very long way, and still had an extremely long way to go. It had taken exactly four weeks of walking to get here. Hopefully it wouldn’t take another four weeks to finish.

Leaving Porthallow behind, I climbed up out of the bay and set out above the bracken-covered cliffs towards and around Nare Point. Passing the small coastwatch station there, the path now turned west on an attractive and flat two-mile stroll towards Flushing and Gillan Creek.

I really enjoyed this short, easy section, through pretty woodland with small yachts and other boats bobbing in the shelter of the natural harbour alongside. This creek is very tidal; it’s basically empty other than a small channel at low tide, and very much not empty at high tide.

I’d read that it was possible to cross the channel on some slippery stepping stones at Flushing for around three hours either side of low tide; failing that there’s an on-demand ferry that runs from there at high tide, or a bridge about a mile further upstream at Carne Mill.

There’s more on those options in the planning section below, but as I’d managed to time my arrival for about half an hour after low tide, I didn’t need to figure either of them out. Instead, all I needed to do was find exactly where I was meant to be crossing the channel, since it wasn’t immediately obvious.

I wandered over to a guy collecting shellfish off the rocks, and asked him how much he’d charge to loan me his waders for five minutes. No need for that, as it turned out: he pointed out the best place to cross, offered me a few oysters, and wished me well on my paddle walk.

In the end it was no big deal: I found the stepping stones and made it to the other side with dry feet. The warnings about the slipperiness of those weed-covered stones weren’t wrong, though: I needed both of my hiking poles to stay upright.

Turning to head back east again on the other side of the creek, I couldn’t help but be impressed by the stone church at St Anthony-in-Meneage. As soon as I headed up onto Dennis Head on the other side of the hamlet, I found another large, immobile object: in this case, two groups of Ramblers who’d both arrived at a stile from opposite directions at the same time.

I’m not sure what the collective noun is for a group of undecisive walkers. A flap of foot-draggers, maybe? A bumble of bimblers? I had plenty of time to think about it as I rounded the headland. This is another place where the route has changed thanks to the England Coast Path: it used to be an out-and-back path, but the new route sticks rigidly and scenically to the coast. I liked it a lot.

I caught up with one of the walking groups again as I left the headland, walking along a lovely shaded dirt trail above the outflow of the Helford River. The air was filled with conspiracy theories and knee complaints: I wasn’t interested in the former and had enough of the latter to deal with myself, so soon found a place to pass and sped off out of earshot.

The rest of the walk along the river was just as enjoyable: I was loving the soft trail and gentle climbs and descents, and would have been more than happy if they’d both continued for the rest of the day. Or the rest of the month, come to that.

After passing through three lovely little rocky coves in quick succession, the path turned briefly away from the river towards the village of Helford, emerging beside a cafe and a carpark. From there, it was a simple case of taking the next right and following the lane down to a small group of walkers and cyclists waiting above the pier.

The ferry was on the opposite bank, so I had a few minutes to wait for its return. That just gave me an opportunity to admire what felt like hundreds of little boats anchored in the middle of the river: this is by far the most sheltered spot anywhere along this coast, so I can see why they chose it!

Soon enough, I could make out a little boat picking its way towards us through the moored vessels. There was only space for a few people, but we all made it onboard and were on the other side less than five minutes later. At over a pound a minute it’s not the best value water crossing on the Coast Path, but it’s better than the alternative 13-mile detour.

There are pubs on both sides of the river, and I’d opted to have lunch at the one in Helford Passage mostly just because I wanted to get the boat crossing out of the way beforehand. It felt like the right decision: the Ferry Boat Inn was a delightful old pub, super-popular on this sunny Saturday afternoon, and they served up a mean vegan burger as well.

It’s fair to say that sitting in the sun with a belly full of food, my desire to keep going was less than high. With the nearest on-trail campsite still over five miles away and the afternoon already wearing on, however, I couldn’t procrastinate much longer. Creakily standing up, I gave my table to a couple who’d been circling for the last few minutes and wandered off along the causeway.

The path stayed concrete for a short time, passing the private Trebah Beach before dropping down into the little hamlet of Durgan. There were more people than usual out on this section of trail, partly because it was easy, pretty walking, and partly because on a day like this, why wouldn’t you?

The path detoured briefly but steeply inland at Durgan to avoid a cliff fall: I could have done without the climbing, but I guess it’s better than dropping into the ocean. A herd of photogenic cows greeted me while I climbed out of the next cove at Porth Saxon Beach, before I rounded Toll Point and hit another pretty little patch of woodland as the trail zigzagged down to Parsons Beach.

Another long stretch of grassy trail took me out to Rosemullion Head, leaving the river behind where it hit the ocean. It was starting to cloud over by this point, as it often had recently about this time of day, and right on cue the wind picked up as well.

Pair that with tired legs and it’s fair to say the last couple of miles into Maenporth weren’t my favourite. Still, I really couldn’t complain: up until now the walking had been an absolute delight, one of the more enjoyable days I’d had lately, and a few scudding clouds weren’t about to change that.

I’d had low expectations about my chances of finding dinner tonight, and arriving at the kiosk at Maenporth beach five minutes after it closed didn’t help. There was a fancy seafood restaurant nearby serving food in the evening, but I knew I’d be nowhere near motivated enough to walk back to it, nor attired well enough to be let in the door.

Instead, I carried on another few hundred yards until I got to a locked metal gate in a fence alongside the trail. This was the entrance to Bay View Camping, my intended home for the night. They’re a seasonal farm campsite so for once I’d called ahead at the start of the day to make sure they were still operating: I’m glad I did, as I needed the lock combination to get inside, and had no phone service while I was standing there!

One steep climb later, I found myself in a vast, near-empty camping field, now with phone service to call the owner. She arrived a few minutes later with a card machine and a cheerful smile, pointing out the amenities (it didn’t take long) and suggesting that beside the hedge at the far end would be the most sheltered spot from what was by now a very stiff breeze.

She was right, and even though that meant a very long walk to the showers and toilets, I gladly took her advice. After wrestling my tent into submission, there was nothing to do except crawl inside it, eat my two-course meal of a protein bar (main) and Jelly Tots (dessert), and wait for the rain to arrive.

It didn’t take long.

Planning

Started at: Coverack Camping (0.6 miles/1km off-trail)

Finished at: Bay View Camping (0.2 miles/0.3km off-trail, up a steep track)

Bay View Camping is a basic seasonal campsite that operates for around 60 days a year, give or take. It opens the first week of July, runs through August, and switches to a weekend-only schedule in September until it closes. I was there the first week of September, and luckily it just happened to be a Saturday.

You’ll need to call or text Alice (0772 024 7587) ahead of time to get the combination for the gate, which is right on the Coast Path. There’s no phone service there, but there is in the camping field at the top of the hill. If you don’t have the combination, you’ll need to come off the trail at Maenporth Beach instead, walking up Maenporth Road to the main entrance of Penrose Farm.

It’s a very simple setup, with portable (but modern and clean) hot showers and toilets at one end of a large field overlooking the ocean. There’s a drinking water tap nearby, and that’s it for amenities.

I pitched right at the other end of the field beside some trees, to try and get the most shelter from the wind. Unfortunately the prevailing wind comes right off the ocean, and there’s not much shelter from that direction: if it’s windy, you’ll be feeling it. I know I did.

Bring food with you for dinner unless you want to go to The Cove, that fancy, expensive seafood restaurant I mentioned at Maenporth Beach.

I paid £15 for my pitch, which is quite a bit for the facilities on offer, but there aren’t any other campsites nearby. There were maybe half a dozen other people staying there that night, either car camping or in campervans.

Transport and Parking

Maenporth isn’t served by public transport, but fortunately it’s not much further to Falmouth, which definitely is.

If that’s where you’re finishing the day, start by taking the 380 or 36 bus from Coverack to Helston, getting off at the depot beside Sainsburys. From there, you have a few different choices about how to get to Falmouth.

The quickest and most frequent is the number 3 service to The Moor, downtown near the docks. Other alternatives run less frequently and/or take longer; they include the 35A to The Moor, or staying on the 36 all the way to Perranwell train station and then taking the GWR service to Falmouth station.

The 380 runs from Coverack to Helston just once a day, early morning on weekdays. The 36 is more useful, operating five times a day Monday through Saturday. The 3 runs from Helston hourly during the day, every two hours during the evening and on Sundays.

If you’re looking to break this section up using public transport, that’s also possible. Take the 36 bus in the other direction from Coverack to the square in St Kerverne, then switch to the 33 and get off at the carpark in Helford, where you can take the ferry across the river and start walking from the other side.

The problem with this approach is that the 33 only runs once a day, leaving St Kerverne at 9:30 a.m. on weekdays. Alternatively, you can walk that first leg to Helford, cross the river via the ferry, and then walk half a mile up the road to Helford Passage Turn to catch the 63 bus into Falmouth. That service runs every two hours, Monday through Saturday.

If you’re starting or finishing your time on the Coast Path in Falmouth, the train stations there have half-hourly services to Truro, where you can catch onward trains to London Paddington via Plymouth, Exeter, Taunton, and Reading.

If you’re leaving a car somewhere, you’ll have an easier time of it. Coverack has a good-sized car park run by the local parish council; pay via the honesty box. Likewise, there’s a gravel carpark basically on the beach in Porthoustock with an honesty box alongside.

There’s free parking at Porthkerris Cove (on the new section of trail), and continuing the honesty box parking theme, Porthallow Beach has it as well.

You might be able to find an on-street spot in St Anthony-in-Meneage, but there aren’t many of them. Helford has a large pay and display carpark with reasonable all-day rates, and there’s a cheaper but much smaller one over the river in Helford Passage as well.

There’s a small carpark with a honesty box at St Mawnan church just off the path, and finally, a somewhat expensive pay and display lot at Maenporth Beach.

River Crossings

You’ve got two bodies of water to cross today, Gillan Creek and Helford River. It’s about a 90 minute walk between them.

Gillan Creek

I talked above about walking across this creek, which you can do within three hours of low tide. If that doesn’t fit your timetable, you’ve got two other choices:

• Take the small boat across. It only runs between April and October, and obviously only when the water is high enough. Open the signboard on the southern (Flushing) side of the river, or call SailAway, the company that operates the boat, on 01326 231 357. It costs £5 per person, cash or card.
• Continue along the footpath and country lanes (marked on Google Maps) for about a mile to a T-junction, then turn right towards Carne Mill. Pass the mill and follow the lane back along the other side of the creek, rejoining the Coast Path beside the church in St Anthony-in-Meneage.

Helford River

This is a much larger body of water, and there’s definitely no wading across it at low tide! The ferry runs on-demand between April and October: open the large yellow signboard above the jetty so the boat operator knows you’re there. It costs £7, and you can pay by cash or card. There might be a bit of a wait at low tide, since the boat can’t always run then.

The only alternative to the ferry is an extremely long (13 mile) detour inland via Gweek; it’ll add another day to your walk, and most sensible people won’t take it unless the ferry isn’t running. The exact details are listed in the official guide if you need them.

Waymarking and Navigation

Due to the significant route changes on today’s section, navigation was more of a challenge than usual.

Waymarking was generally pretty good, with obvious new signposts and stickers appearing reasonably often, but I still managed to completely miss the sign pointing along the new coastal route from Porthoustock (assuming it was there at all) and took the old inland route instead.

Setting off on the main path from St Anthony-in-Meneage, I almost missed the new loop around Dennis Head as well. Fortunately that one was marked on my map, so I could drop down and join it instead of having to backtrack.

I used AllTrails as my main navigation app for the entire South West Coast Path, and it worked well throughout. The section from Coverack to Helford is here: the marked route goes via the old inland path from Porthoustock, but the new coastal path is shown on the map as well. From Helford to Maenporth or Falmouth, use this map instead.

The app is free to use, although I pay a couple of pounds a month for a subscription so I can download maps to my phone in advance.

Phone Service

I didn’t have much service at the start of the day, as I made my way through a relatively isolated area between Coverack and Porthoustock. It came and went after that, more likely when I was near a village and up on higher ground, less likely in the middle of nowhere or when I was down in a cove or surrounded by cliffs.

Even under a mile from the outskirts of Falmouth where I turned off the path to head to the campsite, I had no service. As soon as I got up to the camping field and could see Falmouth in the distance, I had signal again.

As a backup, I’d also paid a few pounds for a data eSIM from Instabridge that let me swap between all three UK networks, EE, O2, and Vodafone/Three. It worked really well as a fallback option all along the Coast Path: if I didn’t have service with my usual provider (O2), I’d just switch to another. As long as there were any mobile phone towers in range, I’d have service.

Facilities

Nothing was open as I left Coverack, which was a shame: the Loft Cafe in particular looked like it would have been a good option for breakfast. There’s nothing after that until you get to either the Fat Apples Cafe near Porthallow if you’re taking the inland route like I did, or Beach Bites Cafe in Porthkerris Cove if you take the new coastal route.

Porthallow itself has a cafe on the beach (open Sun-Thu) and a pub which opens at midday. After that, you’ll need to wait until you get to either Helford on one side of the river or Helford Passage on the other: both have well-rated pubs beside the trail. I can only personally vouch for the Ferry Boat Inn in Helford Passage, and it was great.

The Holy Mackeral Cafe is another good option, beside the carpark in Helford. There’s also a small village store near there, on your left just before you get to the pub.

Towards the end of the day, there’s a small kiosk selling hot and cold drinks at Bream Cove (weather and season dependent), and there’s the beach cafe or the seafood restaurant at Maenporth Beach.

Accommodation

There aren’t many campsites along this stretch, and none in Falmouth either, which is why I ended up staying where I did.

There’s Roskilly Camping, a simple but nice farm campsite near St Keverne and Rosenithon. It’s not far from the trail as the crow flies but a bit more effort to get to on the ground: you’ll likely end up backtracking along the country lanes from Rosenithon.

If you take the inland route, there’s a camping field at Fat Apples Cafe, the place where I had a great breakfast. It’s simple, with a toilet and coin-operated shower, and you’ve also got access to the cafe when it’s open.

And really, that’s it for sites anywhere near the trail until you get to Bay View Camping where I stayed. Even that is seasonal: if you’re walking before early July or after mid September, it’s likely to be closed.

If you’d prefer to sleep in something that isn’t a tent, you’ve got more choices. A couple of the pubs offer rooms: the Three Tuns in St Keverne is a 15-minute walk from the trail, while the Five Pilchards is right beside the path in Porthallow.

The Fat Apples Cafe that I mentioned earlier for both food and camping has a loft and small hut as well, and there’s an appealing homestay option in Gillan just before you cross the creek. There’s also luxurious four-star resort in Helford Passage, about a mile from the ferry crossing point, and both the Hotel Meudon and Trelawne Hotel are just off the path in Maenporth.

Finally, if you decide to continue on to Falmouth, you have a much wider range of choices there. Good places close to the path include both the Membly Hall and Falmouth Hotels, a room above the Star and Garter, and this apartment. Further from the trail, this studio is a good, cheaper option.