Praa Sands to Lizard: South West Coast Path Day 26 Guide

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The overnight forecast had predicted bad weather, and yet again it wasn’t lying. My new tent held up just fine, and although I certainly heard the rain as it came and went all night, I barely felt the wind at all. I’d suggest the shelter of an eight-foot hedge alongside had something to do with that.

With nowhere in the village open yet for breakfast, there was nothing else to do except start walking. Lucky I grabbed those protein bars yesterday, I guess. Lucky, too, that I’d had the foresight to pack my jacket at the top of my backpack: I’d barely rejoined the trail before I had to take it out.

Not for the first time on this walk, the strong wind meant very changeable weather. Rain, shine, blue sky, dark clouds, rinse and repeat every half hour. It kept things interesting, and I wasn’t complaining: after the long, hot days in August, I was enjoying the cooler conditions.

I wasn’t sure how far I’d go today, but because there weren’t a lot of campsites, I was probably going to either stop before I was ready or walk further than I wanted to. I hadn’t done a 20-mile day so far on the Coast Path: would today be the day?

Those decisions were for future Dave. Present Dave was too busy enjoying the stroll along the dunes behind the long stretch of Praa Sands beach; other than a few resilient dog walkers and their four-legged friends, I had the path to myself.

Soon back up on the cliffs during a spell of sunny weather, the trail became quite overgrown. I’d seen reports of major issues with this elsewhere along the Coast Path earlier in the year, but up until now, I hadn’t really encountered much of it: I think there’d been quite a bit of cutting back done during the summer months.

This section was wild and spectacular, all rugged cliffs and misty sea spray, and I admit to being more than a little jealous as I crossed a small private lane leading down to a stone cottage right on the edge of Rinsey Head. I could get used to waking up to that view every morning!

Resolving to start buying lottery tickets so I’d have at least some hope of affording a place like that, I continued on across the lane, past a carpark, and to the ruins of the Wheal Prosper tin mine. I was there at just the right time, as a shaft of sunlight shone out from the engine house like a laser beam in my direction.

I was keen to have a look inside, but the building was fenced off due to “structural concerns”. Hopefully it doesn’t fall down any time soon.

Continuing along the low clifftop on what was (for now) a lovely morning, I stopped to take a photo of silhouetted rocks that I thought resembled some kind of upright bird gazing out to sea. Was all this alone time on the trail making me go slightly mad? It certainly seemed possible.

Passing behind Trewavas Mine engine houses shortly after, I could now clearly see Porthleven in the distance. My stomach rumbled to remind me that when you’re burning 3000+ calories a day, one protein bar for breakfast doesn’t cut it, but I ignored it: the nearest cafe was still nearly three miles away, and grumbling wouldn’t get me there any faster.

In any case, I had other things to think about, mostly along the lines of “wow, this path suddenly got a lot less flat”. Whenever I dropped down into a bay, the boulder-covered beaches showed just how big an issue rockfalls are along this part of the coast, as if all the signs and trail diversions up on the cliffs weren’t enough of a hint.

After a bit more up and down and another shower suddenly appearing out of nowhere, I walked into a postcard. Porthleven harbour really was beautiful, even under grey skies as I strolled into town, and especially under bright blue ones as I strolled out an hour later.

In between, I stopped at Origin Coffee for what was easily the best coffee I had on the entire Coast Path. They have a small cafe in town and a roastery just up the road, and the difference between their cups and the bitter dishwater I’d been given most other days was night and day.

I’d run out of my own coffee a few days earlier, so this was the obvious place to buy another bag. Did I want to add another 250g to my pack weight? No I did not. Was it worth it to have good coffee for the rest of my walk? Yes it was. Even stale three weeks later, it was better than most of what I ordered in cafes.

Suitably caffeinated, I carried on around the harbour in search of breakfast. Oddly-named Nauti But Ice fitted the bill perfectly, and one large Full English later, I set out again, admiring the colourful houses on my way out of town. I could easily have spent my whole day in Porthleven. Hopefully one day I will.

If I’d enjoyed those first couple of hours of walking, I absolutely loved the next couple. It looked like the apocalypse was approaching as I turned the corner past Porthleven Beach, but somehow the weather blew inland just in time to ensure I didn’t even get wet. Not right then, at least.

Barely 15 minutes later, I arrived at Loe Bar, one of the more unusual geographic features I’d seen so far. The long golden beach itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for this part of Cornwall, but the large lake right behind it certainly was.

Separated from the ocean by a shingle bank (the “bar”), this flooded river valley is the biggest freshwater lake in Cornwall. Most of it stretches away inland, so you can’t really get the full perspective from the beach, but it’s impressive all the same.

Again, other than a few dog walkers, there was hardly anybody else around: given the setting and how close I was to Porthleven, you’d expect a lot more people to be there. To be fair, it had been much the same ever since I set out four weeks ago: crowds dwindled and disappeared once I got half a mile further down the path from even the busiest of tourist towns.

If you like your trails challenging, rugged, and empty, the South West Coast Path provides.

I stomped the length of the beach and up the low (loe?) cliffs on the other side, where after another brief round of getting rained on, I did something I never do: take a video of my walk. This was mostly just to show Lauren what a great day I was having, but I’ll share it here too, if for no other reason than to show why I’m a writer and not a YouTuber.

It really was a special part of the trail, though: even watching the video now, with the sunny sky, soft trail, and surf breaking on the beach below, takes me straight back to that glorious afternoon.

After a quick climb over a headland and down to small and near-empty Gunwalloe Beach, I climbed up the other side to be rewarded with dramatic views along the coast back the way I’d come and towards Poldhu up ahead.

The path flattened out around the headland at Pedngwinian Point for a mile or so here, giving me a chance to catch my breath before descending into Gunwalloe Church Cove. As the name suggests, there’s a small stone church here, hidden away at the far end of the beach. The trail takes you away to the left instead, so you’ll need to veer off if you want to visit it.

After a break for a sandwich and cold drink at the National Trust kiosk beside the beach, the path climbed steeply out of the bay to briefly join the road before heading down and around Poldhu Cove. There was an appealing-looking cafe here as well, but even I couldn’t quite justify two lunches in the space of fifteen minutes.

Just up the hill on the other side of Poldhu sat the Marconi Centre, a small museum and monument to the man who invented the radio telegraph. The first transatlantic message was sent from here to St John’s in Newfoundland back in 1901.

After passing the memorial, I dropped easily down to Polurrian Beach, and climbed a hell of a lot less easily up the other side. A couple of fancy-looking hotels overlooked the ocean on one of the rare flatter sections here, with people far less sweaty than I walking in and out.

Passing an old cannon sat guarding the bay, just for something different the path then dropped steeply down to Mullion Cove. A little tea room beside the attractive harbour was beckoning me in; I somehow resisted its siren song, although halfway up the seemingly-vertical climb on the other side I was already regretting that decision.

As much as I’d been enjoying my day, the longer distance and endless ups and downs were starting to take their toll. I gave serious consideration to ducking inland and staying at the National Trust campsite at Teneriffe Farm tonight, but with nowhere for dinner nearby, my stomach won out over my feet.

With now no settlements until Kynance Cove, the rugged nature of the Lizard peninsula really started to make an appearance. The cliffs and bays were even more dramatic than usual, all tumbled rocks and crashing waves, and the few other people I’d seen on the path today dwindled to absolutely nobody.

Thankfully, this long, nearly five-mile section was a lot flatter than what had preceded it; I’m not sure my legs could have handled it otherwise. The walking around and beyond grassy Predannack Head was genuinely lovely, with even the helicopters and light planes taking off from the nearby airfield far enough away that I couldn’t hear them.

The stunning turquoise water at Kynance Cove was almost enough to take my mind off the last big descent of the day that it took to get down to it, but it wasn’t enough to distract from the slog back up the other side. Fortunately the end was literally in sight: the town of Lizard was clearly obvious ahead, on a slight hill about half a mile inland.

The trail itself loops around the bottom of the peninsula, so you have a few choices about where to leave it for the day. There are footpaths leading up from Pentreath Beach; I continued slightly further to a small, stony beach covered in sea foam before branching off on a lightly-trodden trail into the village, just because it came out slightly closer to Henry’s Campsite.

This quirky, popular spot was absolutely wonderful, and easily my favourite campsite of the entire path. It’s one of the few that I wouldn’t think twice about before booking a holiday there, whether I was walking or not. More on the delights of this place below.

For now, I pitched my tent in a sheltered little section, showered, and headed into the village to eat. The seafood shack that also provides food for the pub wasn’t open that day, so I ended up at Smugglers fish and chip shop instead. Sitting outside in the wind eating my dinner out of a takeaway wrapper wasn’t quite what I’d envisaged, but it was tasty, filling, and didn’t require me to walk another step to get it. I’ll call that a win.

On the way back into the campsite, I spotted a familiar face. Graham Eaves is one of the admins for a super-helpful South West Coast Path Facebook group, and I’d been following his progress as he walked in the opposite direction on his seventh end-to-end hike of the path in the last three years (!!!). As I’ve learned, no matter how hard you think something you’re doing might be, there’s always someone far more impressive out there.

Pulling up a spot on the sofa, we swapped stories and set the world to rights until we both ran out of energy. It didn’t take long; we’d both done big days to get there, and were absolutely knackered. The sun had gone down by the time I crawled into my tent, but only just.

Bed had never looked more appealing.

Planning

Started at: Higher Pentreath Campsite (0.5 miles/0.8km off-trail)

Finished at: Henry’s Campsite (0.5 miles/0.8km off-trail)

Well, what can I say about this campsite, other than that I loved it?

It’s family-run and feels like it: from the colourful hand-painted signs to the free-roaming ducks, it couldn’t be less like a big corporate campsite if it tried. Throw in the tropical vegetation and the whole vibe reminded me of island guesthouses in Thailand, in the best possible way.

Everywhere else I’d stayed since the end of the school holidays had been pretty quiet, but not Henry’s: it was busy and relatively full, yet still felt very relaxed. Even the clientele felt different, younger and more laid back than elsewhere. Think VW Combi rather than 10-person family tent.

My pitch was great, a narrow semi-private space with plenty of shelter and a picnic table alongside, and the showers and toilets were even better. They felt quite new and very clean, and for once I didn’t even object to paying for them.

The camp shop was better stocked than most, with everything from free-range eggs to local cider, and the common area nearby had plenty of old leather sofas to sit on while using the free Wi-Fi. Given the lack of phone service, at least with O2, I was glad to have it.

It’s only a couple of minute’s walk up the lane to get into the village, which has a few different options for dinner and breakfast (although check the opening days and hours).

My pitch cost £13.50 for the night, plus a few 20p coins for the showers. That’s about average for what I’d been paying in this part of Cornwall, but the campsite was anything but average. Keep it up, Henry’s. You were great.

Transport and Parking

Given how remote the Lizard peninsula feels, it’s mildly surprising that there’s any public transport on this section at all. Sure, it’ll take you two buses and over two hours to get from the start to the finish, but it is at least there if you want it, and even stops in useful places along the way.

From Praa Sands, the number 2 bus runs up Pentreath Lane from the village (so you can catch it from close to the campsite I stayed at as well), and then along the A394. It then drops back to the coast at Porthleven, where there’s a stop right on the harbour, and finishes at the depot in Helston beside the Sainsbury’s.

From there, take the number 34 bus on a long, meandering journey to Lizard village: it’s a couple of minute’s walk from there to Henry’s campsite, or half a mile west, south, or east to the path. There’s also a stop just off the trail above Polurrian Beach, giving an option for a shorter day.

Both routes operate every day, hourly morning to evening from Monday through Saturday. On Sundays and bank holidays services run every two hours, starting later and finishing earlier in the day.

If you’re leaving a car somewhere, you have plenty of choices today. At the start, there are a couple of paid options almost beside each other in Praa Sands. Maggie’s Patch, behind The Welloe bar/restaurant, is the cheaper of the two.

There’s a small, donation-based car park on the trail at Rinsey, just before the Wheal Prosper tin mine, and several around Porthleven, including a free one just behind the village and beach that you can use all day. There are two more free options slightly further along: Highburrow, slightly back from Porthleven Beach, and First Downs, at the end of the road just before you climb up and over to Loe Bar.

There’s a carpark with a dodgy machine that’s best avoided at Gunwalloe Beach; if you’re looking to park around here, continue on to the small free parking lot at Pedngwinian Point or the National Trust parking at Gunwalloe Church Cove instead.

There’s another National Trust carpark at Poldhu Cove, and a couple of cheap long-stay options a little way back from the trail at Mullion Cove. Kynance Cove also has a National Trust carpark, and Lizard village has plenty of free on-street parking. There’s also a National Trust carpark at Lizard Point, if you don’t want to go in/out of the village.

Waymarking and Navigation

While there were a few places today where I definitely needed to check my map to make sure I was on the right path, I had fewer navigation issues than expected given how long this section was.

That was helped by a lot of obviously new signage, thanks to the ongoing work being done for the England Coast Path. That’s why so many of the signposts now just say “Coast Path”, which incorporates both trails.

I was very glad of my map when I turned inland to Henry’s Campsite at the end of the day. The footpaths I needed weren’t signposted or even particularly obvious, and I definitely didn’t need to be adding any extra distance by that point!

I used AllTrails as my main navigation app for the entire South West Coast Path, and it worked well throughout. The section from Praa Sands to Porthleven is covered here, and from Porthleven to Lizard here. 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

Phone signal was variable today to say the least, and got worse as the day wore on. As a general rule, I had no real service whenever I was down in a bay or cove, other than in Porthleven.

Things were better up on the cliffs during the first half of the day, but there was little service around the western side of the Lizard peninsula. The village had some service, but even a couple of minutes away in the campsite, there was essentially nothing.

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

Other than not being able to get breakfast in Praa Sands before 9:30 a.m., there were plenty of places to eat and drink for most of the day.

Porthleven has great options, including the fantastic coffee at Origin Coffee that I mentioned, and a good breakfast at Nauti But Ice. There are also a few other cafes, a couple of pubs, fine-dining restaurants and more, all on or very close to the harbour.

The Hazelphron Inn, just behind Gunwalloe Beach, is a proper local country pub with an appealing menu and and even more appealing outdoor tables to enjoy it. There’s also the National Trust kiosk where I enjoyed my sandwich and drink at Gunwalloe Church Cove, or the cafe slightly further along beside the harbour in Poldhu.

The fancy hotel above Mullion Cove also has a fancy restaurant to go with it, but of more interest to most walkers will be the cafe a hundred yards further on, down beside Mullion harbour.

After that, there’s nothing until the small but excellent cafe at Kynance Cove, or assuming you’re going into Lizard village, one of the handful of options there. I enjoyed my fish and chips from Smugglers, but there are several alternatives along the main street: just be sure to double-check the opening days and hours.

Accommodation

There are a few campsites along this stretch, but they’re not evenly spread out. If you start where I did in Praa Sands, you may well find yourself having a shorter or longer day than you want to find somewhere to stay, or looking for a wild camping spot.

Mill Lane Camping is close to the trail in Porthleven, a few hundred yards from the harbour and all of the food and drink spots. There’s also a nice farm site, Treza Camping, out the back of Porthleven about three-quarters of a mile off the trail.

Far View Campsite is an option, near Predannack airfield and about a mile inland from the path at Mullion Cove. The National Trust site at Teneriffe Farm that I considered staying at looks great, but isn’t near anywhere to eat or drink. It’s about half a mile from the trail.

After that, it’s Henry’s in Lizard. As I keep saying, it was my favourite campsite on the trail, so I’d suggest aiming for here if your itinerary allows.

If you aren’t camping or don’t like the options on this section, you’ve got plenty of alternatives. This B&B in Porthleven looks delightful and is pretty good value, and the Harbour Inn also has some super-cozy rooms right on (unsurprisingly) the harbour.

The luxurious Polurrian on the Lizard has reasonable rates for rooms without a sea view, at least outside peak season, or you can head inland to the Old Inn in Mullion village for a cheaper, simpler option.

Your best bets in Lizard village are either the Top House Inn or Haelarcher Farmhouse B&B. Finally, there’s the Housel Bay Hotel on the coast south of the village: the path literally runs through the gardens of the hotel, and it has its own restaurants so you don’t have to go anywhere else for meals if you don’t want to.