Every February for as long as I can remember my family have travelled to Cornwall for a week long holiday. It’s a brutal time of the year in many ways – whilst we were down there last week we had 100 MPH winds, and the last time we went storms were battering in from the Atlantic and smashing harbour walls to rubble. When you are in scenery so rugged, remote and so close to great oceans, you are always at the beck and call of the elements.
So, you may ask, why would we choose the depths of wild winter over the balmy souther summer days for a visit?
In February, Cornwall is at it’s best. It’s a rare chance for us to connect with our environment – and there is something both haunting and compelling about the dramatic cliffs, the bracing wind and the bitter cold. It makes you feel alive like nothing else can. It’s not as picturesque perhaps – there is something so endearing about a colourful fishing village i the sun, full of Mr Whippy ice cream and buckets and spades – but it is more authentic. It will blow the cobwebs away both literally and metaphorically!
This year we stayed near St Just, in a lovely apartment that stared out over the old mine chimney. The mines here, remnants of which you can see in the valley, stretch far out under the sea – an idea I certainly don’t envy! That said, this picturesque brick chimney does demonstrate the lovely Victorian commitment to style alongside substance – it was positioned just so as much for it’s looks as the practicality!