St Ives to Pendeen Watch: South West Coast Path Day 22 Guide

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Today was the day.

After a sad limp to breakfast at Scoff Troff and an even sadder limp back to the apartment to grab our bags, Lauren and I hugged each other goodbye. There may have been tears. She was headed for the train station to start a seven hour journey back to her parent’s house in London, and from there to the hospital to try and find out what was wrong with her foot.

Long story short, it turned out to be a stress fracture of her heel that put her on crutches for the next four months: she’s only just stopped using them as write this. Let’s just say that various medical professionals were surprised that she’d managed to walk another 30 miles after fracturing it. I was less surprised: she’s nothing if not determined.

I’d offered to end my walk as well, but Lauren was adamant I should keep going. The whole reason we were there was because I wanted to celebrate turning 50 by doing a long, hard walk: it was certainly both of those things, and I’d be unlikely to find the time or motivation to try again if I stopped now.

And so just like that, three weeks in, our shared experience became a solo endeavour.

Within a minute of setting out, I noticed how much heavier my pack felt now that I was carrying all of our tent rather than just half of it. It justified my decision to order the one-person version from Amazon the night before: now I just needed it to arrive at a random post office on the outskirts of Penzance by the time I walked past a few days later.

Right now, though, I had other concerns: the rain that was being blown into my face as I rejoined the path and headed out of St Ives. I knew today’s walk was going to be tough, a long stretch of rugged coastline with a lot of climbing and few places to stop, and that was without the extra challenge of bad weather.

Luckily, the strong breeze soon blew those heavy grey clouds away to bother someone else, and the sun was shining again well before I got to the next headland at Clodgy Point.

That was where I met a solo walker coming in the other direction, a German woman who’d started in Penzance with an ambitious schedule and was already discovering how much harder the South West Coast Path is on the ground than it looks on paper. We commiserated about sore feet and wet tents for a while, neither of us in a hurry to move on despite both having a big day ahead.

This was a stunning stretch of coastline, its rugged beauty only enhanced by the large waves smashing into the rocks below. Speaking of rocks, after Clodgy Point I found the start of the rough trails that the guidebook had warned about today, my pace slowing as I picked my way along slippery stone causeways and narrow rocky paths.

Definitely give yourself more time than you think you’ll need for today’s walk: it’s slow going most of the way, with few accommodation options or good wild camping spots, and isn’t something you’d really want to be tackling in the dark.

Even more than most other parts of the Coast Path, there really wasn’t a flat section all day: I guess that 1200m+ of climbs and descents has to come from somewhere! Stomping my way up and down the bracken-covered cliffs, I was already noticing how few other people were around: I’d easily go half an hour or more (sometimes a lot more) without seeing another soul.

Lost in the views and my own thoughts, I took a brief wrong turn inland just before a stone trig point, before remembering the cardinal rule of this walk: it’s called the Coast Path for a reason. I silently congratulated myself on realising my mistake so quickly, with a degree of hubris that would come back to bite me a few hours later.

After admiring the views from beside the trig point, the trail dropped suddenly to cross a stream at River Cove. There’s a rocky outcrop offshore that’s apparently a good place to spot seals (a bunch of companies run boat tours there from St Ives), but with the high tide and wild waves, all of the sensible sea life was clearly somewhere else that morning.

Just before Zennor Beach, those wild waves gave me one of my most dramatic photos of the entire walk, full of spray and white water on an exposed section of limestone cliff that was doing its very best to erode into the ocean below.

From there, the trail continued on its merrily-undulating way for the next hour around to Zennor Head, another headland with stunning views that offer at least some sort of payback for the steep climbs required to get there.

After somehow being mistaken for an angler by a guy wanting to know the best fishing spot in the area, I had a choice to make: head inland to Zennor for lunch, or wait a bit longer and do the same in Treen.

Other than a tea room with limited options towards the end of the day, these are the only two places near the trail to get food or drink. I’d had a big breakfast and it was only just past midday, so I decided to keep going the extra couple of miles into Treen. I mean, who could go past the idea of a Sunday roast at a bright yellow pub called The Gurnard’s Head?

As I was soon to learn, the answer to that question was apparently “nobody”.

Before that, however, I had my favourite hour or so of walking today, passing a delightful little waterfall, several rocky coves, and endless surging, crashing ocean. The wind was blowing from the southwest, which meant I was getting all of the shelter on offer. It wasn’t much. Given how rough the seas were even just a little offshore, however, I appreciated it all the same.

After arriving at Gurnard’s Head (the spit of land), I turned inland to head towards Gurnard’s Head (the pub), about half a mile off-trail and up a hill. Chatting to a couple who were also heading there, they asked if I’d booked ahead: the place was apparently extremely popular for Sunday lunch.

Given I hadn’t even managed to book a campsite since the second night of the walk, I’d had no idea how long it would take to get here when I set out this morning, and I’d had no phone service all day, the chances of me having a reservation were not high. This didn’t bode well for getting fed.

Sure enough, I was told that all tables were booked for the next two hours, and that the kitchen was so busy that even if there was a space, I wouldn’t be able to get a meal anyway. Hungry and without alternatives, I asked what I could order. Surely there must be something, even if it was a pint and a bowl of fries eaten while sitting on the floor?

And so it was that I found myself parked up on a seat in the window, desperately trying to make friends with anybody with a space at their table before my food arrived. A lovely older couple and their dog stepped up, inviting me to take a seat quicker than the staff member could say “but you don’t even have somewhere to put it!” as she walked up with my fries.

A lengthy chat, a pint of 8% cider, and many fried potatoes later, I felt fortified enough to wave goodbye to my new friends, lift my pack off the floor, and start back down the hill to tackle the last six miles of the day.

Apparently that cider had had more of an effect than I’d realised, as I almost immediately missed the signpost pointing west after rejoining the Coast Path and blithely headed out onto Gurnard’s Head instead. Unlike this morning, I didn’t realise my mistake straight away; in fact, I didn’t realise at all until I saw an unsubtle warning that I’d fall off the cliff if I continued any further.

To be fair, the guidebook does suggest taking this detour so you can admire the (checks notes) Iron Age fortified site. I didn’t see much evidence of it, but the views were impressive nonetheless, and it only added half a mile to my day. If you get sunny weather like I did, it’s worth the effort.

Back on the right path, I soon passed a couple of free-roaming horses before the trail dropped and climbed past stony Porthmeor Cove. The afternoon was getting warm and the rocky trail particularly infuriating by this point, so when I came across a walker heading in the other direction, we were both very glad of an excuse to stop and chat for a while.

He’d hoped to make it to St Ives today, but given it was already mid-afternoon and he was well under halfway there, that plan was being swiftly revisited. Like I say, today was tough and very slow going!

Eventually, in the interests of actually getting to our destinations by nightfall, we bade each other farewell. I returned to grumbling my way along the rocky path, which soon turned briefly inland at Bosigran Castle. This is another Iron Age fort, again without much to see: it’s more popular as a climbing location these days.

The endless climbs and descents, paired with the stony trail, slow pace, and pushing into the wind, were taking their toll: I was done with the day, even if with over three miles left to go, it wasn’t yet done with me.

After passing a ruined stone building and climbing a hill on the other side, the path did at least stay comparatively flat for the next hour. That changed when I got to the pretty little stretch of sand at Portheras Cove, but before starting down the switchbacks, a very welcome sight came into view: the top of the lighthouse at Pendeen Watch.

The wind was whipping sand into my face as I passed the beach, but by this point it barely even registered. After one last climb to pass the lighthouse, I stumbled into Old Coastguard’s Campsite a broken man.

After tracking down the quirky old guy managing the place, I found an empty patch of grass and started wrestling with my tent. No longer sheltered from the wind, my usual five-minute job turned into a 20-minute fight as I tried to stop the fly from living up to its name and disappearing out to sea.

After the world’s most disappointing shower (more on that below), and for the first and last time on this walk, I turned down an invitation to head to the pub from a fellow walker. A pint and a proper meal were very appealing, but the mile each way to get there definitely were not.

Mildly-stale sandwiches, a bag of jelly tots, and probably-potable water from a nearby tap would have to suffice.

Planning

Started at: Bagnall’s Studio, Carnglaze Place, St Ives (0.1 miles/0.1km off-trail)

Finished at: Old Coastguard’s Campsite, Pendeen Watch (on-trail)

By far the best aspect of this place is that it exists at all. After you’ve left the outskirts of St Ives, there are no other campsites close to the trail until you get here. After a long, hard day, I was very grateful to see it.

Second best aspect? Friendly cows that popped in to say hi in the morning.

The positives dropped off after that, at least on the night I was there. The wind had been strong all day and got worse that night: because the campsite is right on the coast and the only shelter was from a low stone wall, I got absolutely hammered.

Things got so bad in the early hours that I was worried my tent poles were going to snap: they didn’t, but they flexed so much in the gusts that the top of the tent was hitting my head!

The facilities were relatively basic, with composting toilets and gas-powered hot water showers that would have been great if they didn’t face south with big gaps at the top and bottom of the door. Rain arrived just as I was getting into the shower, at which point freezing water was driven in through the gaps and onto me. Bracing is one way to describe it.

As I mentioned above, the nearest food and drink options are a mile away in Pendeen village, so either bring your own food or be prepared for the extra distance on what is already a long day.

I paid £12 to stay there, and I’m sure that with better weather, I’d have had a far more positive experience. If the wind is blowing strongly from the southwest, however (and that’s the prevailing direction around here), you may not be getting a lot of sleep!

Transport and Parking

Given how isolated this section, it’s no surprise that there isn’t any public transport that runs along the coastline. That said, you do still have a few bus options; you’ll just have to head inland to catch them.

From St Ives, you can catch the number 16 bus to Penzance, and then the number 4 to Pendeen village, a mile inland from Pendeen Watch. It’ll take the better part of two hours, and doesn’t run on Sundays or bank holidays.

If you’re after a shorter day, the 16A stops at both Zennor and Treen on its way to/from the outskirts of St Ives. Both villages are about a half-mile from the trail. The bus runs Monday through Saturday, but not Sundays or bank holidays.

St Ives train station is at the end of a short branch of the Cornish main line: occasional services go as far as Penzance, but most terminate at St Erth, just four miles away. From there, you can get direct onward services to London via Plymouth and Exeter.

There are several carparks in St Ives, some better value than others. My friends left their van at the Barnoon long stay carpark near the Tate St Ives for the day: it was reasonably priced by St Ives standards.

There’s a cheap carpark in Zennor (£2 all day) that operates on an honesty box system, and you should be able to find somewhere on the side of the road to leave your car in Treen. The Gurnard’s Head pub in Treen also has a carpark, and may let you leave your vehicle there before/after your visit: check with them first, however.

There’s also a farm carpark with an honesty box just back from Portheras Cove, and a free parking lot beside the lighthouse at Pendeen Watch, just down the road from the campsite I stayed at.

Waymarking and Navigation

As I mentioned earlier, I managed to take a wrong turn twice on this section: in both cases I missed the signs rather than them not being there at all. That probably says more about me than the trail marking, I guess.

Other than that, I generally found the path easy to follow, if not easy to walk on. That said, I did make pretty good use of my map: the official trail goes around some of the headlands and cuts across the neck of others, and there isn’t always signage to tell you which is which.

I used AllTrails as my main navigation app for the entire South West Coast Path, and it worked well throughout. The St Ives to Pendeen Watch section is covered 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 service was non-existent for much of the day with O2, and not a lot better with other providers. This is a very isolated section once you get out of St Ives, and it showed. There was service at the campsite in Pendeen Watch, and the pub in Treen had Wi-Fi, but other than that I was offline most of the time.

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 generally worked really well as a fallback option elsewhere on the Coast Path, but only helped a little on this section: in reality there just aren’t many mobile phone towers around here!

Facilities

It’s not hard to sum up the facilities on this section: as with public transport and phone service, there’s virtually nothing on the coast once you’ve left St Ives.

Both Zennor and Treen are about half a mile inland, and each has a pub and seasonal cafe. The main meals looked excellent (if not cheap) at The Gurnard’s Head in Treen, but since I had to beg just to get a bowl of fries because it was so busy, I can’t comment on what anything else tasted like.

There’s also a seasonal tea room on the road inland of Bosigran Castle: a public footpath will get you there from the Coast Path. Likewise, if you want food at the end of the day, it’s a mile walk inland from Pendeen Watch to Pendeen village, which has a pub, fish and chip shop, and small supermarket.

Accommodation

As I say, Old Coastguard’s Campsite is the only campsite beside the trail on this section. There are also a couple of pop-up farm campsites about half a mile inland: one near Zennor and one in Morvah. They’re both fairly basic, with toilets but no showers, but they’re cheap and very unlikely to be overcrowded.

If you’re planning to walk into Pendeen village for dinner anyway, you could also choose to stay out the back of the North Inn pub there. It’s £10/night for your bit of grass, with toilets and showers inside the pub. If I was walking this section again, I’d seriously consider this option: it’d be a lot more sheltered if nothing else.

Other accommodation options are fairly limited: your best bets are probably either the Tinner’s Arms in Zennor, a room at the North Inn in Pendeen, or this renovated cottage in Lower Boscaswell. A public footpath joins the latter with the Coast Path, and it’s then a short walk to Pendeen for dinner.