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We've been away for a few days enjoying views of the sea. Not Borth this time but 3 hours southwards to St Ives. I was born in St Ives (or rather in the maternity hospital in Redruth) and lived there for the first six years of my life. To say that St Ives has a place in my heart is an understatement, more that it runs through every bone in my body. Artists came to St Ives in the 50's and 60's drawn by the amazing north light and the beauty of coast and wild moorlands of the Penwith Peninsula. Tourists also came attracted by the sandy beaches, superb surf and the quaint cobbled streets. Nowadays it is all about tourism, holidays for the wealthy with art thrown in. Staying in St Ives costs more than holidaying in the sun including plane fares. Few apart from the very rich actually live in St Ives.

We had booked ourselves for three nights into a campsite that overlooks St Ives. The first two were in the 'overflow' field which although it didn't have electric hook-ups had stunning views to The Island, Porthmeor Beach and the oldest part of St Ives - Downalong. There were no set pitches, you just had to choose a level spot. We ended up with a slight tilt as we need to get some ramps for levelling up. We also found out that the camper doesn't like being driven on wet grassy slopes. We had left Barnstaple in pouring rain which had more or less cleared by the time we arrived in the afternoon. Walking down the steep road to Porthmeor Beach we were almost knocked off our feet by the wind and I had to run and chase Peter's cap which had been blown off his head. I couldn't stop laughing and revelled in the sheer force of nature. We eventually made it safely to The Sloop, the pub which we had frequented on our honeymoon 42 years ago. We've decided to use the money from selling some jewellery at auction to treat ourselves on a few breaks so our meal that evening was eaten in The Sloop. I had grilled plaice with new potatoes and salad while Peter had sticky ribs, salad and chips. The food was good and portions generous. To save Peter's knees we took a cab back up the hill and did so every day. By night-time the wind was even stronger rocking the camper alarmingly. Once Peter had convinced me we weren't going to be blown over it was quite soothing.

Tuesday brought beautiful blue skies and sun. Part of the reason for our trip was to bring down some framed drawings of my mother's which are going to be exhibited in the Penwith Gallery. These were collected from us at the camp site after which we walked down and then up through St Ives to catch a bus to the St Ives Archive in Carbis Bay. We had been contacted by one of the archivists who was interested in finding out more about my mother's time in St Ives and her gallery. We'd taken along a lot of photos from around that time as well some of which were copied for the archive and some catalogues.

Then we met up with some friends who live in Cornwall. My mother had been friends with the family in St Ives and had kept in contact with them throughout her life. Peter and I had met Andrew and Jacqui on a number of occasions and we'd always got on really well. Meeting them again after 42 years it was as if it was only yesterday. They took us to lunch at a local place and the talk just flowed. We jumped on a bus for the few miles back to St Ives because apart from there being roadworks causing the main road to be closed on one side, St Ives traffic is notoriously bad. The narrow cobbled streets were not made for cars so now there is only one way through the town and in just one direction. The buses that go in have to turn around at the bus station overlooking the harbour and the bus that enters on the other side turns around in front of the Tate St Ives.  

Having had an ample lunch we didn't need an evening meal though I did indulge in a pastry bought in town. Our position in the campsite meant that even sitting inside I had a clear view down to Porthmeor and was able to use my binoculars to watch the lifeboat men/coastguards have an evening training session involving abseiling down The Island's low cliff and hauling up somebody in a stretcher.

On Wednesday we woke to low cloud over the campsite (on the left and top of the headland below) so I was thankful that I had taken so many photos the day before. We then moved the camper to a pitch with hook-up. It was nice to be more level and nearer to the very warm and swish shower block but the view wasn't quite as good.

Once the cloud had lifted we walked down to Porthmeor Beach and then up around The Island, not actually an island and up to the chapel on the top. Peter then parked himself in The Sloop to rest his legs while I wandered along Fore Street and then back into Downalong to explore. I'd found a local bakery that made proper pasties so we bought a couple and then went and ate them overlooking the back of the harbour. (Below) The sun reappeared in the afternoon so I took more photos of my old haunts and went into the local museum before meeting up with Peter to take a taxi back up to the campsite. Each pitch hook-up also had a water tap so I finished off my evening by washing the camper at least as far up as my arm could reach. The campsite was filled with large, expensive gleaming motor-homes and caravans and I had realised that our scruffy old camper had a lot of green algae on the once white paintwork. With the camper being kept up at the farm I hadn't had the opportunity to clean it before.

This morning we had a leisurely breakfast, packed up and set off for home. The journey to Barnstaple took a little under three hours and then we had to drive up to the farm to collect the car. We'd taken too many things with us as I had forgotten exactly what was in the camper so I made a list of everything in the camper. Now we'll just have to take food and medicines when we go away.

I took 256 photos in St Ives so they'll be appearing in later posts as I try and share the beauty of my childhood home. Today's photos are of the postcard style to give an overall impression of St Ives with its many beaches.