Escaping to St Ives 2

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Well, we are still here. We say that somewhat relieved. As we breakfast, the view out of the front windscreen is one of malevolence. The seas are a slate grey with green tinged white horses as far as the eye can see. Which, frankly, isn’t far. The rain squalls are dark sheets of intense rain and they limit seaward views to no more than a mile or two offshore. Godrevy Point across St Ives Bay is invisible.

Last night gusts reached the promised 60 mph. Average wind speeds were 38 mph plus. Orientated in such a way that we faced the wind direction, poor Bryony still shook and rocked violently throughout the night. The water in the tank below sloshed everywhere waking one of us several times. The other one of us just slept through it all. She always does!

The forecast promised showers and breezy conditions, so definitely not cycling weather. We opt for a walk along the coast to Levant.

Of course, we don’t make it far! We stop off for coffee and a read of the papers in one of the seafront café/restaurants.

 This pause in our walk gives me time for reflection. The geographer within me already knows that all is not what it seems in St Ives. For two months of every year, the ‘sleepy’ town atmosphere is torn from local residents as hordes descend to holiday in the area and whilst tourism income is welcome, the other ills that come with it are probably not.

Its jumble of white beaches, dark rocky outcrops and turquoise seas along with its arty culture and independent cafes, shops and galleries bring full streets and a thriving holiday economy. But come the winter? St Ives becomes a ghost town. Those cafes, restaurants, art galleries and independent shops close for the winter. Seasonal employment is therefore an issue.

Incomers who arrive buying second homes in the town bring a change to the community. Shops and services for locals fall by the wayside – the winter resident population just doesn’t justify the service expenditure. Holiday homes bring seasonal money to shops and to local building and home maintenance companies but often at the expense of community feel. As young local people are priced out of the housing market (local houses at the top of the town advertised as ‘affordable’ started selling at £250,000 – way above what may local young people can afford), they move away to Penzance or Redruth and Camborne and so local community groups fall by the wayside; now we have a lack of younger volunteers for Scouts, the church, local charity groups. Even now, we have walked down narrow streets where the overwhelming majority of cottages and house have been holiday homes for rent and empty. Vacant for up to several months of the year. It must be very frustrating for local families. In the summer, residents surely have no chance of getting a parking space in their own town. I suspect most head for the supermarkets at Penzance 10 miles away.

But beyond the obvious issues to do with being a tourist honeypot with high second home ownership, there is another hidden problem. I read recently that St Ives has one of the highest county levels of child poverty. Cornwall County Council estimates around 36% of children in the neighbourhood live in poverty. Many families only earn low incomes – it is an issue throughout much of Cornwall. Low wages, high housing costs, high rural transport costs. It is a deadly cocktail of circumstances.

Reluctantly, I admit, we eventually venture out of the café in full waterproofs and we head back along the coastal footpath. We get as far as Carbis Bay. By now we are chilled despite hats, gloves and several layers. We turn around and head back into town and end up in the same café, upstairs this time.

Sweet potato fries and a few drinks later and we are revived and ready to venture out. The winds are still strong but there are shafts of sunlight.

We follow the path back around the headland and over to Porthveor beach as the clouds clear and the sunshine breaks through. On the beach we find a poor common seal washed up on the tide line. A local is taking a photo of her yellow fin tag. He will inform the relevant local conservation bodies.

Despite the wind, we stroll along the length of the beach cliffs and out to the next headland. The winds are strengthening and discretion always being the better part of valour, we decide that further progress westwards may be unwise.

Still, we feel invigorated, we have walked nearly seven miles. We are surprisingly dry, despite the earlier heavy squalls. All in all, we are remarkably quite cheerful!