Porthgwidden

It pours with rain again in Cornwall, on and off, all day. Flash flood warnings. But here at Porthgwidden, it stops just as I arrive and stays away for a precious few hours. This is a lovely small family beach. It always seems cosy but never too crowded. Today is the longest day of the year, but the crowds have gone by 6 p.m. leaving the beach to relax gently In the legendary soft light over St. Ives.

Polperro

Today is beset by torrential rains that have come and gone these past few days. I have not seen such rain here before. The hot sunny days of April are a forlorn memory, mocked by the trees high on the hillsides, their frenzied dance to the rhythm of the gales overhead. This little shngle beach appears like magic out of the water for a couple of hours either side of low tide, surrounded by rocky cliffs and high walls. Standing In the brief lulls between bouts of dark rain, you are in the enchanted stillness of Prospero's island, with the tempest raging just beyond the rocks.

Maenporth

Maenporth should be nicer than it is. Stand on the beach and look back, and you see the lush green all around, typical of this part of the coast between Falmouth and Helford. But today the slimy green algae spreads over much of the sand, and in places the water has a slick, black oily look about it. Not a beach to swim in; better to clamber over the rocks at the far end where you can walk out quite far despite the tide and explore the little rockpools, or sit higher up and watch the boats sail across the bay.

Portcuil

Portcuil seems remote, even by the standards of the Roseland. And yet, when you arrive it feels bigger than it is, packed with little dinghies tied up to the shore, and with its own boatyard, sailing school and sailing club. It sits just on the bend of this inlet, with St. Mawes and the sea straight ahead, and the tidal Percuil river to the right. In the gray drizzle, one wet lonely dinghy sails silently in between the moored boats. Drift upriver in a rowboat, and around the next bend you lose almost all signs of civilisation. Hear the cry of the waterfowl, and suddenly the sea and people are a million miles away....

Reflections

Where have the last two weeks gone? A million things always demanding your time. One distraction follows another, and soon the rituals of day to day take over, sweeping you along in its torrent of daily trivia. And the brief moment of the beach is a distant memory...

Booby's Bay

Booby's Bay is right next to Constantine, and today the tide is out so far that the two merge into one long beach by the water's edge. This is the first time this year I see the lifeguards on duty. Their red and yellow flags stream straight out in the brisk Atlantic wind, marking the narrow strip of beach where it is ok to swim today. Their whistles blow when the occasional surfer drifts out of bounds. The Cornish summer has begun...

Daymer Bay

Walk to Daymer along the long sandy beach from Rock, or through the low sand dunes. Here you feel that you begin to approach the open sea. Stand here and think - at last the Atlantic, now just out there; only just round the next headland...