Turning off the road down the weather-beaten lane, the first tantalising glimpse of the lighthouse comes into view. After the long drive West it is a relief and a delight to see.
The lane down to the car park seems even more worse for wear than the last visit. Its' pot holes temporarily filled with gravel which will only last for one storm. The scant trees are bent and braced for the winds of tomorrow.
The car bumps and slides into a front row space, feeling lucky despite being one of few. The wind buffets the sides, goading the doors to open.
A dash to the boot to wrap up in outdoor gear. Padded body warmers, gloves and hats with ear warmers to stop the wind-tingle ear ache caused by the biting gusts.
Standing on the edge of the cliff it is time to breathe. Who can arrive here and not be mind-blown by the view? Who not does feel lucky and so alive to be here?
The beach stretches out almost endlessly and vast. So perfectly smooth in places, rippled and sparkling in others. And the sea contains every hue of blue your mind can possibly imagine. With flecks of white and splashes of dark which always keeps the eye peering for the possibility of seals and dolphins.
This stunning scene is so mouthwatering, it is almost drinkable. In order to truly appreciate it you need to take great deep breaths of the salty sea air.
On first glance, the beach looks empty. But rest your eyes for a minute and things come to life. To the left in the sea are tiny colourful flashes of kite surfers, fearlessly riding and smashing the waves by the mouth of the Hayle estuary. To the right are the black dots of surfers, bobbing like seals, waiting patiently for the perfect wave. Dog walkers dip in and out of view behind rocks and in gullies.
Godrevy Lighthouse stands there strong and proud, managing to look both near and far at the same time. It guards The Stones reef and Godrevy Sound from the treacherous storms that blow so fiercely across the Atlantic. The glint of solar panels on the island gives a clue to it's modernisation. There used to be 2 keepers manning the lighthouse. Now it is all automatic.
A small fishing boat chugs silently through the Sound accompanied by mute seagulls wheeling frantically above it. The wind swiftly changes direction, briefly turning on the sound of their mewling cries. Then, just as quickly, the wind changes back and all is quiet, save for the rushing of the wind and the gentle roar of the sea.
The clouds, which have been hanging malevolently in the sky, make a sudden race and dash and the sunlight brightens over St Ives. Tumbling down the hillside to the sea, St Ives is a distant jumble of white dots and glinting glass. It is a place full of promise. This is where we dream of living.
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