Polruan to Polperro
The coastal footpath known as the Polruan to Polperro section of the South West Coast Path is one of the most celebrated and visually dramatic stretches of the entire 630-mile national trail. Running along the southern coast of Cornwall between the village of Polruan on the eastern bank of the Fowey Estuary and the picture-postcard fishing village of Polperro, this walk of roughly six to seven miles encapsulates everything that makes the Cornish coastline so enduringly beloved. The path traverses towering slate and shale cliffs, dips into secret wooded valleys called "bottoms" in the local dialect, and delivers panoramic views across Lyme Bay and the Celtic Sea that feel almost unreasonably generous. For walkers, it represents one of those rare routes where the journey itself is the destination.
The history of this stretch of coastline is deeply entwined with Cornwall's maritime past. The villages at either end were for centuries centres of fishing and, more clandestinely, smuggling. Polruan, perched dramatically at the mouth of the Fowey River, grew up in medieval times partly as a defensive counterpart to Fowey itself, and the ruins of a blockhouse built in the fourteenth century to defend the estuary with a chain stretched across the water still stand at the water's edge. The cliffs between the two settlements were intimately familiar to the smuggling fraternity who worked this coast from the seventeenth to the early nineteenth centuries. Contraband — primarily brandy, tobacco, and salt — was landed in the countless coves and inlets that punctuate the route, and the warren of back lanes and hidden cellars in Polperro still hints at that illicit heritage. Polperro's museum, the House on the Props, dedicates considerable attention to the smuggling trade that was for many families here a matter of economic survival rather than mere adventure.
Physically, the walk is demanding but immensely rewarding, following a roller-coaster profile that drops sharply into wooded combes and climbs steeply back out to the clifftop with almost rhythmic regularity. The path underfoot is a mixture of well-worn earth, exposed root networks, and rough stone steps, and in wet weather it becomes genuinely muddy and slippery in the sheltered valley sections. The cliffs themselves are composed of dark Devonian slate, compressed into dramatic angular formations, and the rock faces near sea level are frequently stained orange and rust-red by mineral seepage. On a clear day the sea below shimmers in improbable shades of turquoise and jade, and the sound of waves against the cliff base carries upward with surprising clarity. In summer the clifftop vegetation erupts into a riot of gorse, heather, sea campion, thrift, and foxglove that crowds the narrow path on both sides.
The surrounding landscape is quintessential south Cornish countryside: a patchwork of small irregular fields bounded by ancient Cornish hedges and stunted windswept trees, punctuated by the deep-cut wooded valleys that run down to the sea. The inland views from the higher sections of the path reveal a rolling green agricultural hinterland that feels surprisingly remote from the tourism bustle of the coastal villages. Along the route, the small settlement of Lansallos sits a short distance inland, its medieval church of St Ildierna being of significant historical interest, and Lansallos Cove — accessible via a steep path off the main coast trail — is a pebbly bay of exceptional beauty and near-complete seclusion that remains one of the south Cornish coast's best-kept secrets. West Coombe and Frogmore are other tiny valleys passed along the way, each carrying a small stream down to the sea.
Polruan itself, the starting point for walkers approaching from the east, is reached from Fowey by a small passenger ferry that runs regularly throughout the day and has done so in various forms for centuries. This short crossing of the Fowey Estuary is a delight in its own right, offering fine views up and downstream. Alternatively, Polruan can be reached by car via narrow lanes from the B3359, with limited parking available in the village. Polperro at the western end is best approached on foot or by the seasonal shuttle bus from Crumplehorn, as the village itself bans private motor vehicles from its inner lanes — a policy that has preserved much of its unspoiled character. The nearest railway station is at Liskeard, some miles to the north, from which bus connections to both villages are possible though somewhat infrequent.
The best time to walk this stretch is from late April through to early October, when the daylight hours are long, the coastal flowers are at their most vivid, and sea conditions are likely to be benign enough to allow full appreciation of the views. Summer weekends can see the path busy near the villages, but the more remote middle sections retain their sense of wildness even in peak season. Autumn brings a particular quality of light and a dramatic shift in the palette of the clifftop heath, and experienced coast path walkers often rate September and October as the finest months of all. Winter walking is possible but the path becomes genuinely treacherous in places, and some shorter daylight hours limit the pleasure of lingering over the views. Good waterproofs and sturdy ankle-supporting footwear are essentially non-negotiable at any time of year given Cornwall's famously changeable weather.
One of the hidden pleasures of this section of path is the quality of solitude it offers even when both terminal villages are busy with visitors. The steepness of the terrain and the uncompromising nature of the walking mean that only genuinely committed walkers venture far from either end, leaving long central sections that can feel remarkably private. It is not uncommon to walk for an hour or more in the height of summer without encountering another soul. This same quality of wildness attracted writers and artists throughout the twentieth century — Daphne du Maurier lived nearby at Fowey and knew this coast intimately, and the brooding atmosphere of its cliffs, the hidden coves, and the deep-rooted sense of an older, harder way of life that clings to these villages clearly fed her imagination in works like Frenchman's Creek and Rebecca.