Out of six titles, we achieved second place; the judges said:  “From the moment you pick up this bumper package, it feels like a quality product. It has really appealing content and really knows its market.” We were very proud, and we hope you agree.

Then on April 27, we presented the Cornish Distinctiveness Design Award at the Cornwall Home Show. The winner was Dan McLaughlin Joinery and Furniture, whose woodwork in the medieval herb garden restoration at Pengersick Castle impressed you as much as it did us – combining thoughtful research with sensitive design, one couldn’t imagine a more worthy winner. Dan, pictured with me, was so moved on the day that a few tears were shed.

Finally, in this month’s issue, you can find out more about the inaugural Cornwall Today awards, due to be presented in September with the aim of rewarding passion and loyalty to Cornish tradition and produce. We want you to help us choose the shortlist by sharing your favourite Cornish businesses with us, from hotels and tea shops to charities and festivals. We can’t wait to hear your ideas. Click here to find out more and nominate your favourites.

Kirstie

The Greenbank Hotel in Falmouth is renowned for its superb location at the edge of the Fal estuary.  Inside you can enjoy comfort, beautiful décor and fabulous panoramic views across the river, as well as the Greenbank’s delicious menus.  See more about the hotel in our Escape feature in our May issue, on page 138. This month, The Greenbank Hotel are offering 1 reader plus guest a 2 night stay in a Harbour View Room plus dinner on a night of your choice. T’s & C’s – Entrants must be 18 or over to enter. The prize is for 2 people sharing a Harbour View room on a bed and breakfast basis with a dinner voucher for £70 to be used on a night of choice in our Harbourside Restaurant and is subject to availability. Travel arrangements, meals (other than those stated), drinks and any other sundries are not included in the prize.Prize must be taken before end November 2013

Click here to enter this competiton

T&C. No cash alternative. Prize must be booked subject to availability.

Seafood lovers should also visit the Fowey Mussel Fest (June 22 to 23, www.mussels.fowey.com), with cooking demos and tasty Fowey river mussels.

More tasty treats can be found at the Looe Festival of Food & Drink (June 29 and 30, www.taste-southeastcornwall.com), which showcases local produce.

Click here to subscribe today

Tristan Nolan (Photograph by Mike Newman)

Words by Yayeri van Baarsen

However much I’d like to say it has been a carefully planned New Year’s resolution, it was actually CT’s columnist Trystan Nolan who got me into jogging. He was first featured in our January issue with tips on how to make a fitness regime last longer than a week and now brings us monthly Cornish workout spots with his columns ‘Keeping fit in Kernow’. Trystan’s words are inspiring. (Although in all honesty the fact that he looks like a male model Maori warrior might have had something to do with my newfound training enthusiasm).

Whatever the reason, in the last few months I have dusted off my trainers, started following hard core Krav Maga lessons , and even tried the outdoor weight area in my local Boscawen Park. The best part of it: I’m surprised to say that nowadays I actually look forward to jogging (my pace is too slow to be called running) after a day of staring at a computer screen. The initial horror of dragging myself off the couch and out the front door has been replaced by a brief moment of grumpiness when leaving the TV behind and a whole lot of feeling good afterwards.     

Living in Cornwall makes it easier to try and get at least five half an hour sporty sessions a week. The road along the estuary towards Malpas makes for scenic views, the coast is never far away for some cliff walks and if I feel really energetic there are always some horrible hills to try and run up. I’m still not seeing an awful lot of body toning, but this might have more to do with my Ben & Jerry’s addiction than with my exercise pattern. So Trystan, if you ever need somebody to try out a new fitness regime on (preferably one that gets you a bikini proof body before the summer) just give me a call.

For more information on keeping fit, check Trystan’s blog in the next issue of Cornwall Today or visit his website: www.trystannolan.com   

Cornish hake and native oysters (Photograph by Jonathan Jacobs)

This recipe comes from Nick Hodges; the executive head chef at the Flying Fish restaurant in the St Michaels Hotel, Falmouth. Nick, who grew up in Falmouth, trained under Keith Floyd and Hell’s Kitchen’s Jean-Christophe Novelli, before returning to Cornwall and running two restaurants of his own.

Such is his passion for locally sourced food that the restaurant includes a food map with the menu, allowing guests to track down exactly where the ingredients on their plate come from. “A lot of chefs talk about using local ingredients,” says  Nick, “but I wanted to take this further and actually show our guests a map of Cornwall with little pictures to indicate the origin of their dishes. We try to get everything within a 25 mile radius and only have one supplier out of county.”

Cornish hake and native oysters cooked “en papillote” with fennel and lemon, coquette potatoes, fresh greens

Ingredients:

•           150g fillet middle cut hake, skin on

•           2 native Cornish oysters, opened and cleaned

•           50g/1¾oz finely shredded fennel

•           ¼ lemon, sliced thinly

•           Tablespoon chopped parsley and dill

•           Knob of butter

•           2 tbsp white wine

•           salt and freshly ground black pepper

•           4 large new potatoes

•           Pinch of saffron

Preparation method:

1.         Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/Gas 4.

2.         Using a sharp knife, score the skin of the hake diagonally at 2cm/½in intervals.

3.         Cut a sheet of silicon baking parchment about 30cm / 12in square. Place half of the fennel and lemon in the centre of the baking parchment, followed by the hake fillet and one of the oysters; add the rest of the ingredients on the top.

4.         Fold the edges of the paper up to make a bag, add the white wine and season with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

5.         For the saffron coquette potatoes; with a sharp vegetable knife turn the potatoes into small barrel shapes [this is quite a skill that takes some practise, if you prefer simply peel] and poach the potatoes in vegetable stock infused with the saffron until tender.

6.         Scrunch together to make a ‘tent’ for the fish. Tie a loose bow to seal the tent for cooking with a length of butcher’s string. Place on a baking tray and cook for 8-10 minutes, or until cooked through. A good tip; gently pierce the bag high up towards the string being careful not to puncture lower causing the cooking juices to escape with a food probe, your fish should read 67 degrees in the centre and you know it will be cooked.

7.         Serve with a selection of freshly steamed Autumn greens and the coquette potatoes; garnish with the second oyster simply served in the shell. I serve the oyster natural but grill if you prefer. Let your guests open the paper bag, the smells are amazing!

Trevose Lighthouse

One beautifully bright Saturday in November, Luvitt, MollieDog and I headed up to the North coast and visited Treyarnon Bay, where the tide was out revealing secret rock pools and a glimmering expanse of soft gold sand all to ourselves. Then, if coming from Padstow, we took the B3276 and turned right to Constantine Bay and at the Trevose Bay golf course turned sharp left. This eventually leads to Mother Ivey’s Cottage and a toll, signposted Trevose and Padstow lifeboat station, where we obtained a parking ticket before continuing up a rough tarmac drive that led to Trevose Head lighthouse car park.

It was windy here, perched on the edge of the cliffs, and MollieDog squealed with excitement at the prospect of another walk. Turning right out of the car park, we walked out over the cliffs admiring the Atlantic, painted a dark blue, streaked with azure and patches of black, while seals bobbed around in the waves with joyous ease.

The cliffs were covered in bouncy turf, with an almost spicy smell that took me back to my childhood. It made for easy walking, and the ground was littered with rabbit holes that Moll enjoyed sniffing at. Below us was Trevose Head lighthouse and its beautifully painted white and green buildings, standing proud against a clear blue sky.

Coming to a waymark sign marked Trevose Head, we walked along with a tamarisk hedge in front of us, and a telecommunications mast loomed over us on our right. The coves around here have wonderful names: Stinking Cove, Cats Cove and Mother Ivey’s Bay, to name but a few, which we longed to explore. Seagulls squawked overhead as we looked out over Gulland Rock, with Rainer and Newlands Rocks in the distance.

As we continued along the coastal footpath, we encountered a very muddy stretch, and scrambled along a higher path as we walked above Cats Cove. Looking back towards Constantine Bay were more tamarisk trees which again reminded me of my childhood spent in this part of Cornwall. A seat, “In Loving Memory of Dr Kirk Hofheinz”, had been placed here, and I wondered who he was and what brought him to this stunning part of the world.

At this time of year there’s little in the way of flowers, but we spotted a few ox eye daisies and some pink cow parsley in amongst deadly looking grey fungus. Mother Ivey’s holiday camp sprawled in front of us, partly shaded by more lines of tamarisk trees, as we walked past what could have been a gun emplacement.

Treyarnon Bay

Past another muddy part of path, we came to another waymark and took the left route with Mother Ivey’s Bay ahead of us which is almost two bays of fresh, untrammelled sand. Down below us appeared Padstow lifeboat station, jutting precariously out to sea, and at the rocks off the far end, “Look,” cried Luvitt. And there was another seal, playing in the azure coloured water, while several jackdaws flew past us.

Looking at the map, it looks like you can just follow the coastal footpath, but there is a fenced off area. So we turned away from the lifeboat station and walked alongside the fence, towards a road and went over a stile, onto the road and over another stile by some tamarisk trees, down a very slippery, muddy path and another muddy gateway. We were out of the wind here which was a welcome relief – out on the headland it had been very blowy and I’d forgotten my gloves – “And your nose goes blue when it’s cold,” said Luvitt helpfully.

The sun came out now, and through a gap in the fence, we came to a tarmac path and turned left, then first right over several stiles, with a laurel hedge on one side while below us was Long Cove, and Mother Ivey’s Bay ahead of us. Opposite us, Cataclews Point, Roundhole Point and Gunver Head gleamed in the sunshine – “This is the best time of year to come here,” remarked Luvitt. “Look, there’s no one on those beaches.”

A squabble of seagulls soared over us, eerily silent for once, followed by a scourge of starlings, chattering loudly, as we retraced our steps to the top of the path and, by an art deco house, turned left down the tarmac track which eventually, we hoped, would lead back to the coastal footpath. Given my sense of direction this was unlikely, which was why I’d made Luvitt In Charge of Map.

Booby’s Bay

Along this route we found unexpected bunches of pink valerian underneath a beautifully built dry stone wall with ragwort sprouting from it. Turning right, we came to a barred route which, in the summer, leads to Booby’s Bay car park on the left and a sign telling us that corn buntings nest here in summer.

Reaching the coastal footpath, we turned right, looking back on Booby’s Bay, with its rock pools glimmering a Cornish black and gold in the afternoon sunshine, while the sand shone like an autumn mirror. “Booby’s a bird,” said Luvitt, in a voice he uses when he’s making it up. Surprisingly, he’s right – a booby includes ten species of long winged seabirds that look as if they’ve flown out of the Hobbit.

Skirting past a vast hole in the ground that led down to sea level – we could hear the waves crashing far, far below us – we hurried back to the car park, past Mackerel Cove and over a stile, before my vertigo could get a grip. Looking round to the gleaming tower of the lighthouse, down the dramatic cliffs, and out over the vast shifting seas of the Atlantic, Luvitt sighed. “This would be the perfect place to come on Christmas Day,” he said. Now there’s an idea.

Words by Alice Westgate

Owner Josie Fernihough (photograph by James Ram)

When the Antiques Roadshow came to Falmouth last summer, local resident Josie Fernihough brought a lifeboat tally board to show the experts. She had plucked it from a skip outside the town’s Old Coastguard Station 20 years ago and had treasured it ever since. It turned out to be worth £300, which was considerably less than some of the items brought to the National Maritime Museum that day. But Josie was not in the least bit disappointed. “To me it is priceless because of the role it played in saving lives,” she says. “We owe the coastguards and lifeboats so much.”

Josie eventually bought The Old Coastguard Station and, as well as renovating its dilapidated interior, she rescued many other aspects of its maritime heritage. “We are guardians of history and should always respect the past,” she says.

The building, which stands on Pendennis isthmus, dates from 1902 and was originally a garrison housing the war department’s married quarters. It was built at the same time as many of Pendennis Castle’s outbuildings, and Josie still has a copy of the original calico-drawn plans. The coastguard took over the building in 1956 and stayed for 25 years until it transferred to its new home on the headland. The Old Coastguard Station then sat empty and under threat of demolition from developers until Josie and her former husband moved in during 1992.

“It was in a terrible state, totally derelict,” remembers Josie, “and had rainwater running down the internal walls.” Yet its location was stunning, with clear views over Castle Beach and far out to sea; on a fine day you can see The Manacles from its dormer windows.

“To do the whole renovation at once would have cost a fortune,” she says. “Instead it happened bit by bit over the next 20 years, as and when we could afford it.”

The first few years were particularly gruelling. “I spent many months cooking on a makeshift stove,” says Josie. “Luckily we were used to camping. I wore a lumberjack shirt and wellies for a long, long time.”

Josie made the station office into a sitting room (photograph by James Ram)

But gradually the house took shape. Josie created a kitchen and dining room from the old operations room, and made the station office into a sitting room. This was the only part of the house that was plastered as it had belonged to the chief coastguard; all the other rooms were bare brick. “We couldn’t afford a plasterer, so we just painted the brick,” says Josie.  This was a happy accident, though, because along with the chunky old cast-iron radiators, the uneven brick walls give a wonderful sense of character.

While the renovations took place, Josie began researching the history of the building, crediting her love of heritage and archaeology to her rich cultural background. “I was born in Malta, but lived in Rome for much of my life, where there is a great passion for the past,” she says. “My father’s family is Egyptian and my mother’s family is Greek, and I have subconsciously absorbed all those influences over the years.”

Inspired by this, she sought out many of the people who had once lived and worked here. “One particular retired coastguard, Aubrey Tucker, was a mine of information. He worked at St Just and then Port Isaac before he came to Falmouth. He was involved in some incredible rescues, and gave me fascinating newspaper cuttings detailing many of them.”

A memento from this time – a wooden stretcher called a hawser bearer that was carried by hand on cliff rescues – was another of the artefacts that Josie rescued from a skip. It now hangs from the kitchen ceiling, where it functions as a beautiful hanging rack for pots and pans.

The lifeboat board made famous by the Antiques Roadshow hangs in the adjoining dining room. Its evocative hand-painted letters spell out the names of local lifeboat and coastguard stations. Josie also has a pair of coastguard’s binoculars from this era, still in their leather case, as well as the old telephone exchange box from the station office.

The Old Coastguard Station is home to many antiques and artifacts (Photograph by James Ram)

Further treasures can be found on the ground floor of the house, which Josie now runs as a comfortable self-contained holiday cottage. It was originally the coastguard’s boat store, and rows of hooks that would once have been hung with oilskins still feature in the hallway. Best of all, the old shutters at the front of the building have been retained and renovated; they now open on to a south-facing courtyard garden that Josie describes as “a little bit Mediterranean”.

Nothing old has been wasted or forgotten in this renovation; an old window with its beautiful brass catches has been turned into a glass-fronted cupboard in Josie’s kitchen, and the original station plaque is proudly displayed in the stairwell.

“I love saving things,” says Josie. “Some people make it a habit of throwing things out; but I keep things, store things and record things. I even have a book detailing everyone who has lived here from 1906 and what jobs they held. I love telling their stories again today.”

The Old Coastguard Station is clearly in very good hands. “I am honoured to live in Cornwall and am very proud of the building in which I live,” says Josie. “I could have bought a little house that needed no work and I could have had lots of expensive holidays, but sometimes sacrificing things is best. I am the custodian of this place and I will do everything I can to preserve its soul for future generations.”

The Old Coastgaurd Station (photograph by James Ram)

You can rent the ground-floor apartment at The Old Coastguard Station through Classic Cottages. It sleeps four (plus cot) and costs from £387 per week. Short breaks also available off-season. At all times of year, Josie’s delicious home-made scones, newspapers and an open fire will greet you on arrival. More details at www.classic.co.uk, tel. 01326 555555.

Nevertheless, undaunted by the prospect of negotiating miles of bog, we set off. Herodsfoot is a small village 4 miles South West of Liskeard, set at the meeting of four valleys whose streams join the West Looe river. The name comes from the old Cornish “Hir-Garth”, which evolved to Heriard [C. 1500] and hence Herodsfoot – the foot of the long hill. Herodsfoot is recorded as one of the oldest sites for mining in SE Cornwall.

Gunpowder was manufactured at the Herodsfoot Powder Mill, which was used until the mid 1960s when the land and buildings were taken over by the Forestry Commission and used for holiday cabins.

From Liskeard, take the B3254 to St Keyne and Duloe, then follow signs to Herodsfoot – the road is very narrow, steep and winding. Descending into the village, at a junction with the war memorial by a river, we turned left and parked outside some cottages. Herodsfoot is known as a “Fortunate” village, as everyone who went to the World Wars came back: a fact reflected on the war memorial.

From the cottages we headed uphill and turned first left. Continuing past converted barns, and a farmhouse on our left, we came to an old water pump in the hedge where bees had nested, and were flying lazily about in the rare January sunshine. Hastily removing MollieDog’s inquisitive nose, we headed uphill to a Public Footpath sign on the left over a stile and into a field. This led to a quiet wooded valley with the West Looe River running through the middle. “It’s not like Cornwall at all,” said Mr B. Being near the Devon border here, there is none of the raw wildness that I associate with much of Cornwall.

After a while, we realized why it was so quiet. “There are no birds,” said Mr B – and indeed the only sound was the gurgle of the river and the branches swaying in the wind. “Those trees could come down and kill us,” said Mr B, as ever optimistic to the last. We saw our first snowdrops as we walked along, and a pale green wooden hut perched precariously on the river bank.

Continuing through muddy stretches beside the high running river, the unaccustomed sun warmed my duffel coat to steaming point and we noted rare treats: a spring burbling up from the ground; feathery grey lichen on the trees, and blobs of what could have been toadspawn on the grass. Then the unmistakeable tapping of a woodpecker.

Coming to a fork, we took the left hand route by the river, over a stile and into a huge steep field with Liggars Wood ahead of us. We crossed the field diagonally, over another stile and emerged on a track which had been flooded by the adjacent stream. (Here we took a long detour but luckily we met Les Rawell, the farmer at Liggars Farm, who pointed us in the right direction as well as telling us some wonderful tales about his family history. So thank you, Les, and read on for the way we should have gone.)

At the track, turn left. As a regular walker, I reckon I spend at least 6 months of the year in wellingtons, whereas Mr B wore his black army style boots which are great for walking but not good for wading through rivers. He had very wet feet for the rest of the day which is probably why he ended up with a stinking cough and cold.

Wading through the stream, we crossed a small wooden footbridge and turned diagonally right through Porlphar woods. We bore left at a fork where it was extremely muddy, and fir trees with very straight trunks stood to attention over us like giant skinny soldiers. We followed the valley back towards Herodsfoot, climbing higher and higher while far below us, down an almost vertical incline, we could hear the river rushing, and the squawk of a jay.

Then, “Look,” said Mr B, grabbing my arm. “Deer.” Sure enough, a stag bounded through the trees, then looking round, we saw two does, silhouetted against the sky. Sadly I was too late with the camera, but being that close to deer is quite a magical experience.

Mollie eventually reappeared – we think she may have been chasing the deer (that’s my girl), and puffed our way up the very steep path, past oak trees covered in moss of the richest emerald green, shaped like stars.  At the top of the hill, we plunged downhill into Pennington Woods, where many of the trees have been felled due to disease. It was very heavy going here, but suddenly we looked over the valley and saw Herodsfoot church, nestling in the opposite hillside like a fairytale dwelling.

The path suddenly became incredibly steep and we struggled uphill, looking back on oak and ash trees suspended in a misty grey, with bursts of dark green, where ivy had invaded the trunks. By this time Moll was so muddy she was a brown dog, so Mr B suggested we play pooh sticks with her in the river to clean her up, though having seen the speed of the river, we decided against this.

Meeting the road we turned left down a steep hill that led us into Hessenford, which has a quietness and serenity of its own. It’s as if time had forgotten this secret part of Cornwall. Let’s hope it stays that way.