My second extremity of this journey was Lizard Point, the most southerly tip of the British mainland, and it featured half way through my first day of cycling. If you thought Land’s End was the most southerly point, then think again. I won’t be needing to visit John O’Groats either, for the record. Lizard Point lies a good two hours of cycling around the broad sweep of Mount’s Bay, to the south-east of Penzance. From there I would be starting my journey to Lowestoft, the most easterly point both on the British mainland, and of the UK. It’s as east as it gets.
But that was hundreds of miles away in Suffolk. Today should be a relatively gentle introduction to my cycling adventure of around fifty miles, through what I knew would be some exceptional scenery. I needed to reach Falmouth, where I was staying with friends, by dinner time. To do that (without adding in many extra miles) I just had to make the last passenger ferry of the day across the Helford River. That left at 4.45pm from Helford, an hour or so beyond Lizard Point. It was a hard deadline, but I felt I had time for a leisurely start in Penzance, and I chose to spend it by taking a dip at the UK’s only geothermal swimming pool: the large and impressive Jubilee Pool, a massive outdoor lido which sits right on the promenade in Penzance. I have always wanted to swim here – so now was my chance.
It was a bright but very windy day. Luckily, the wind was blowing strongly from the south-west, which was what I would have chosen to best assist my cycling today. But it also meant that swimming in anything cooler than these geothermally warmed waters would have been out of the question. Most of the huge Jubilee Pool, which is sheltered by high walls, is fed and refreshed each high tide by the surrounding sea water, and is thus a similar temperature. It is a wonderful art-deco timepiece and must be great fun on a warm, sunny day. A heatwave was forecast in a few days and I imagine it may have been packed with swimmers during the Whitsun half-term holidays. But not today. However the smaller geothermal pool is quite large enough to easily accommodate the twenty or so of us that enjoyed its waters this morning, ahead of a popular aqua-fit class. There were few enough swimmers that we were each allowed to take temporary ownership of a changing cubicle and leave our belongings there. Afterwards, I enjoyed a bacon roll and a latte in the poolside café, watching through the glass as the instructor enthusiastically led his class of ladies through their paces to pumping 80s pop music. But it all meant I finally left my bnb on my bike on the wrong side of noon, and hereafter had to keep a fairly close eye on the clock.
The first part of the ride from Penzance follows the railway and the sand dunes around the sparkling curved bay to the ancient coastal town of Marazion and the marvel that is St Michael’s Mount. This highly visible tidal rocky outcrop, half a mile out to sea, is adorned with a mediaeval castle and church only slightly less grand than its French cousin off the Normandy coast, Le Mont-St. Michel. Both date back to the Norman period and are cut off at high tide. St Michael’s Mount is now cared for by the National Trust, and I have visited before, in 1999, just a couple of days before the memorable Cornish total solar eclipse. Today, the tide was far enough out for visitors to walk all the way across the cobbled causeway. Tempting – but I had other more extreme business.
For a few miles after Marazion, I headed inland. I was revisiting the same tiny, quiet country lanes I had followed in 2008 on my End to End ride, and again on the last day of my 2022 OS Maps adventure, through quiet villages and past abandoned tin mines. It kept me away from the traffic and main roads until I was able to sneak back over to the cliff tops at Ashton and follow another delightful, quiet lane all the way down into the fishing port and long, narrow harbour of Porthleven.
By now I was hungry and I had to quickly work out when – and if – I would be able to afford any further stops before the ferry. Since time was on the short side, I decided to fuel up here on freshly baked Cornish Pasty, and ate the first half of it in the open air on a bench overlooking the harbour. It was a smart and efficient move, and allowed me to enjoy the quaint harbour views in the bracing wind for a few minutes in this classically Cornish coastal village.
Hereafter, either side of the modest-sized town of Helston, things got unavoidably busier, and I was sharing the roads with more cars, travelling at greater speeds. This lasted for perhaps an hour, although things thinned out considerably once I got past the large naval air base of Culdrose, just beyond Helston on the dead-end main road to Lizard. None of this progress was remotely flat, either, as is the way in the south-west of England. But I was on a mission, and I kept the pedals turning even as I found myself heading south towards Lizard into the strong SW wind.
Towards Lizard, things flattened out a bit and then I passed through the village and followed the small lane the extra mile or so down to the lighthouse on the cliffs above Lizard Point. I am sure there are some excellent coastal walks to do here, another time perhaps. But you can’t get as close as you want to the iconic lighthouse and there isn’t much else here of special note except for the sweeping views out to sea. In the circumstances, that was possibly a good thing, and I took my photos, finished off my large Cornish pasty (still warm) and turned back inland with the strong wind now at my back.
Lizard village would make a good stop for those with more time. I know from experience that you can get excellent pasties here, as well as cream teas and ice cream. It gets plenty of tourists, and makes an obvious stopping point. It’s just a little bit on the tacky side. But there was none of that for me today. I had a ferry to catch. I set off on a diagonal across Goonhilly Down, which is adorned by radio telescopes, turned towards the sky at different angles. Then it was a series of small lanes with high hedges, staying aware of the possibility of an unexpected tractor around any one of the many bends.
At last, the tiny road plunged dramatically downwards, and I reached the impossibly quaint village of Helford, where the road came to a definite end. Its final act was to cross over a shallow ford between thatched houses, where a small stream flowed towards the sea inlet of Helford River. The passenger ferry leaves from around the hill along a narrow path, and when I arrived above the pontoon, I saw a group of 3 Dutch women already waiting. I took this as a good sign. I was at least five minutes early in any case. But the ladies had only just worked out that you have to flip over a board on a sign facing across the water, displaying a large orange circle as a signal to the ferryman. So there was room for some concern until, far across the water, I spotted a small boat starting out amid the many sailing boats. Phew.
Helford River is really a long and sheltered sea inlet, and it is almost impossibly beautiful. It is a haven for many small boats and the water is a forest of masts, nestled between wooded hills. On the far side, where we disembarked from the ferry, is a well placed waterside pub. The Dutch ladies and I all felt we needed a pint, and we sat outside in the sun to enjoy them. They were coming to the end of a few days of walking the SW coast path, and had enjoyed the experience. One was heading now for the Yorkshire Dales about which I waxed lyrical. It was all a far cry from their usual surroundings. But as much as I love hills, I now had to cycle away from the Helford River up a particularly brutal one. It took some serious resolve to snake my way to the top.
From here, thankfully, it was a few gentle miles to Falmouth, and a relaxing evening of roast lamb and freshly picked herbal tea! My hosts Jon and Kevin did me proud and made all today’s effort feel worthwhile. It was a wonderful start to ease me back into adventure cycling after a lengthy lay off. And tomorrow, I knew, would be an even sterner test!
