The Cornish Coast: St Ives

The seaside town of St. Ives is perhaps one of Cornwall's most famous. Besides its twelve beaches, the city is also host to a bevy of walking trails, art galleries and pubs. Daphne DuMaurier, a seriously underrated author who's one of my favourites, also set many of her books in the area. 

St. Ives is the last stop on a meandering, beautiful train journey along the Cornish coast and the tracks abut Porthminster Beach before ending into nothingness. First glimpses, despite mediocre weather, did not disappoint:

Once we meandered our way uphill to the town, downhill to the outskirts and uphill to our Air BnB, we discovered several other places to whittle away a few hours. The Cornish seem to be well prepared for all weather, as was demonstrated in both surf boards and Wellington boots that dotted various doorsteps. 

Tiny little boutique shops also line the streets of 'central' St Ives. Everything from Doggie Couture to Outdoor Wear to Knitted Scarf and Sock shops make the place feel uniquely seaside.

The town itself is small enough to navigate on foot but there are quite a few culinary delights to be had. The humble Cornish pasty, original food for coal miners to take down into the darkness, do a swift trade here. Whether they're served on a plate or in a paper bag, they're always piping hot and filled with a variety of vegetables, cheese and/or meat. People queue for minutes for these hot pockets of delight.

While we're on the topic of food, St Ives and Cornwall are also famous for their scones. Although there's a regional debate about how to eat them, in neighbouring Devon, you cut your scone in two, spread cream and then add jam on top, the Cornish do precisely the opposite. Which, to me, considering the viscosity of jam, makes a lot more sense. 

Cornwall is obviously home to other pastry-like earthly delights but I got hung up on the humble scone. 

All across the town there were also constant reminders that we were not the only ones who wouldn't mind a cheeky scone or two. Considering my previous brush with seagulls, I heeded the warnings:

And so we based ourselves in this charming seaside town for five days. By day, we made our way to Cornwall's other cute fishing villages and cities--Penzance, Mousehole and Zennor. By night, we frequented the pubs and watering holes of St Ives. The weather had moments of stunning clarity. And for the rest of the trip, we donned our waterproofs and lived as the English do.