Ancient Homes And Shifting Sands
After the stillness of the last few days, today feels a bit more like old school February, the coastal wind bringing a chill factor which makes a nonsense of the official temperature figures, cutting in via the rib cage and exiting the body somewhere just south of the shoulder blades. In any lee-side location, the lukewarm sunshine teases with a kiss: turn a corner and your body braces involuntarily against the cold. The dark afternoon clouds bring tiny hailstones which dance across the ground like mini ping-pong balls, darting into corners where they threaten to drift but then melt away quickly without a trace.
It was incredibly cold up by the Matterhorn a couple of weeks ago, but there is something different about a wind which passes through the body before you can get your defences up, something which chills the blood and the bones simultaneously, something which you know will stay inside you until you are able to retreat indoors. Maybe it’s just our age, because it never used to feel this bad, not even when we were building snowmen and throwing snowballs. Older bones just don’t cope in the same way, do they.
When we last visited St Michael’s Mount, we were denied entry due to the presence of a film crew doing what film crews do, but today the gates are open and we are able to step inside this rather wonderful miniature kingdom. This tiny rock, a mirror of Normandy’s Mont San Michel, is akin to an island citadel, cut off from the mainland at all but low tide, arteried to the mainland by a man made causeway, a place which in times gone by must have been closer to the elements than to humanity.
Perhaps what makes a visit to this isolated place even more special is that it is still inhabited by aristocracy – the St Aubyn family still live here, sharing this isolated yet much visited community with thirty-odd staff. Detached from the mainland, cut off by tides, yet inundated by teems of visitors almost every day – what a strange existence life on St Michael’s Mount must be.
But with unrivalled views across the ocean, beautifully manicured terraced gardens which are best viewed from the vantage points above, and a history which is both engaging and absorbing, this must also be a very special place in which to wake up each morning. The similarities between here and Mont San Michel are not coincidental; the Benedictine monks of the French island were gifted this site by Edward The Confessor in order to replicate that monastery, albeit on a lower elevation.
Most of what we see today was constructed or renovated during the 18th century, even though evidence suggests that the rock has been occupied on and off since around 4000BC. The need for reconstruction in the 18th century was brought about by the 1755 Lisbon earthquake from which the resulting tsunami wreaked havoc on the Cornish coastline and caused extensive damage to this rock and its dwellings.
The island’s history is too varied and convoluted to relate in detail here, but suffice to say that much has occurred here since its ancient existence as a monastery. Now, with the island in the hands of the National Trust but occupied by the St Aubyn family on a 999-year lease, St Michael’s Mount has lost none of its romance or intrigue and remains one of Britain’s most recognisable and iconic sights. Looking across Mounts Bay from Marazion, or from Penzance, and seeing this majestic place silhouetted against the sky, is awe inspiring, bringing to mind anything from a sense of history to thoughts of sorcery and skullduggery.
Blimey, Cornwall’s roads are dirty right now. In the midst of what must be a mix of tractor season in the agricultural world, construction sites as new houses go up, and roadworks as the A30 is widened, there seems to be a thick coating of mud on every road, whether rural or major. It doesn’t take many miles of driving for your car to resemble something that’s been in a rallycross event – ours would be a total embarrassment if it wasn’t for the fact that most other cars are also covered in the same mix of sand, mud and seagull shit.
The Camel Estuary is changing. A new lagoon, simply not there until a couple of years ago, now appears on the northern side at low tide, and there are channels appearing through the main sandbank which has remained steadfast and impenetrable for so many years. The sandy stretch in front of Carn Brae is clearly extending, turning the previously dead straight estuary into an S-shape as the Camel makes its way out towards the Doom Bar. I haven’t seen rapid changes like these in 44 years of coming here.
The ticket guy on the ferry over to Rock confirms it: the Padstow fishermen and harbourmasters are confounded by the suddenly changing course of the main river through the wide estuary and have been busily re-siting the buoys in order to guide the fleet and other craft safely through the waters. Intriguingly, he tells us that a map in the harbour office shows a very differently shaped estuary in the mid-19th century – a shape which appears to be reforming now, in 2023, before their very eyes. The estuary is reverting to its centuries old shape right now.
The fact that nature is doing this is in itself utterly fascinating, but it brings with it a certain kind of security and solidarity. I am not able to explain why, but the whole thing makes me feel just a little bit more content about life, the universe, and everything.
On our final walk of this visit, the chill wind fulfils its other function and blows away the clouds to leave a pristine azure sky, freeing up the sun to paint a semblance of colour into the previously tepid tones. If that sunshine speaks of Spring, then the wind remains stubbornly February: its icy fingers probe our clothing as it whips a horizontal line from sea to shore. The log fire in the pub is at least as welcoming as the clear skies.
Goodbye again, Padstow. This has been an invigorating, refreshing, revitalising visit, perhaps even more so than usual. We feel rested, alive, recharged. And ready for our next adventure.
25 Comments
wetanddustyroads
I’ve seen St Michael’s Mount several times now on other blogs and it’s amazing to see how everyone experiences it differently (and takes different photos of this beautiful place) … and your photos are exceptional.
Phil & Michaela
Thank you again!!
Toonsarah
There is something about an English winter wind that can chill you despite the advertised temperature sounding not too bad – they’re not joking when they talk about wind chill factors! And yes, this must be a strange place to live. I’ve always felt the same about Holy Island / Lindisfarne. Isolated at times, yet inundated with visitors at others.
I never knew that the 1755 Lisbon earthquake affected our shores!
Phil & Michaela
Nor did we until a visit to Cornwall last year. If it’s happened once….
Alison
I’ve seen St Michael’s mount a few times but never visited. A fascinating history and I didn’t realise people lived there. As you say a strange existence.
So glad I don’t experience those icy chill winds anymore! The colour of the sea is just gorgeous.
Phil & Michaela
Yes the Atlantic has so many moods and colours, I never tire of seeing it, Ali
Heyjude
As my mother used to say, ‘a lazy wind’ which cuts right through you. One is blowing today too. You got some lovely photos of SMM in better weather than our recent visit, blue sky makes such a difference. Been a very long time since we climbed up to the castle, that last bit is just a bit too much for us now, but I love wandering through the terraced garden once it opens. Great to view it from the top. Interesting fact about the Camel estuary, I guess all estuaries change over the years, but makes it dangerous for the shipping.
Phil & Michaela
Yes. I so love being in Cornwall. 44 years and I still love every single day I’m down there.
Andrew Petcher
St Michael’s Mount was a bit busier when I went in May 2019.
At Mont St Michel they have cheated and built a permanent causeway. Gets more visitors in I guess.
Phil & Michaela
Not been to Normandy…..yet…
Monkey's Tale
I’ve actually never heard of St Michael’s Mount and at first I was very confused thinking you had gone to France! It would be an odd place to live, reads more like the setting for a murder mystery or something.
Phil & Michaela
Yes exactly….it has that haunting look, especially when silhouetted
WanderingCanadians
I can handle the cold, but the wind not so much, especially in the winter. The views from St Michael’s Mount look beautiful and I love the terraced garden.
Kellye
No matter where you guys go, I always want to be tagging along. Your post is, as ever, inspiring.
Phil & Michaela
Wow, thank you for those kind words
Laura
I absolutely loved reading this post- what a beautiful way with words you have. I could feel the February chill in my bones through your description alone! I have visited Mont Saint-Michel before but had no idea there was a similar sight to be seen in Britain. These photos are so gorgeous and truly capture the majesty of the area! Hope you are staying warm wherever you are now 😊💞
Phil & Michaela
Thank you so much for your lovely words, Laura. We’ll be back in the warm soon!
leightontravels
You give an excellent description of an English winter. Sounds rough, but looks beautiful. I have seen and read much about St. Michael’s Mount, your piece serves as yet another reminder as to how I need to come and see it one of these years. I enjoyed the subsequent tour along the causeway and estuary, some fantastic skies and clouds that could fool one into thinking you had mighty fine weather.
Phil & Michaela
Cheers bud – well, I would say we were lucky in one respect in that, for a February Cornwall visit, it stayed pretty dry. But yeah that Atlantic wind can be biting.
rkrontheroad
St Michael’s Mount is a charming, historic beauty. Thanks for sharing. Where I live by a lake in the Rocky Mountains, a ferocious wind barreling through the valley is not uncommon in winter. I prefer not to take a walk on those days, even if it’s a bit warmer!
Phil & Michaela
It definitely feels differently as you get older!
grandmisadventures
wow, what a beautiful place! I love the windows and the terraced gardens 🙂
Latitude Adjustment: A Tale of Two Wanderers
Another great post!
Annie Berger
No wonder a film crew was there on your previous visit to capture the castle’s singular beauty. But, they should have had you and Michaela along to share it with non-film goers, Phil.
Phil & Michaela
It’s an intriguing place for sure, Annie