The posts I’ve written about Cornwall tend to revolve around two things: Tregardock beach and assorted plants. Seriously, almost all of my Cornwall posts feature photos from my favourite beach, which I am borderline obsessed with, and plants and trees in various states of bloom. You might think that that doesn’t reflect my trips to Cornwall, but I can assure you that it does. I am either at Tregardock or painstakingly using manual focus to get just the right part of the magnolia in focus for my two hundredth picture of the same tree (or occasionally trying to find the best light to show off my beautiful mint green boots but that’s neither here nor there).
This time, though, we decided to branch out. “I want to see some dramatic cliffs. I’m in a dramatic cliff mood,” Alinka said, prompting us to scour some Internet lists for Cornwall’s best cliffs in a thirty-minute radius. We settled on the Rumps, which are two rocky outcrops along the coast path near Polzeath beach.
Jake and I have visited the Rumps twice before, on almost the same day in December both of the last two years. On all of our walks there, including this one, the weather has been impressively frenetic, switching between sun and blue skies and dark clouds and rain multiple times throughout our hike. This time, we walked up and around both of the Rumps, whereas we usually stick to the right-hand Rump (I have said Rump too many times already and we’re only at the start of this blog post, oh dear).
The water was incredibly blue. Even in August, there’s no guarantee of Mediterranean-like water conditions, so seeing the azure water was a welcome surprise. I loved the contrast of the blue water and the green hills, especially as the exact shades of both would fluctuate with the weather. There were also a number of fun details to find, including fences made of local rocks and the colourful moss that adorns many of the boulders. We were the only people up on the Rumps today.
From the dramatic cliff perspective, it was one view in particular that delivered. We sat on top of the left Rump (or rather, the Rump that’s on the left as you approach from the coast path) and watched the waves crash into the cliffs. I love seeing the cliffs break down into smaller and smaller pieces of rock; they look like blocks or puzzle pieces, like an illusion that takes the whole and breaks it down into the smallest possible constituent part.
We careered over to the left Rump, choosing our steps carefully so as not to trip on the loose rocks. I like the picture of the rocks with Linky in the corner, giving you the sense of scale any photo of an imposing natural structure needs. We circled the left Rump, watching the ocean boom against the side of the small island. Jake and Alinka mocked me for my wonder that this is the edge of a country, the same thing I feel every time I stand on the actual end of a landmass.
Dramatic cliffs suitably located, we started back toward the car. The walk back involved fields and fences, and a few cows grazing. I turned my camera onto the animals, which provided plenty of aesthetic material in contrast to the now-stormy skies. We skipped past the enormous, muscled bull, before walking more closely to the black and white calves. It’s easy when you visit somewhere time and time to again to deepen the grooves of your favourite, well-worn paths. But every time we head back out to a different spot on the map, I am reminded of why it is often worth heading somewhere new (or new-ish). After all, you can’t find your favourite spots if you don’t take a chance once in a while.