The village was quiet for the time of year, although it was early in the day and the coaches hadn’t arrived. Mousehole looked spectacular, the low tide allowing the seasonal boats to settle on the sand. As businesses opened up, there was a chance to look beyond the harbour wall, out towards St Michaels Mount, as the Scillonian passed on its way to St Marys.
Alison explains the sheer pleasure of the beach and the sea water.
A tranquil morning, at low tide in Mousehole.
The aftermath of a stormy, south easterly wind, generally bad news for Mousehole, was still evident, combined with a high tide during this re-visit. Waves were breaking over the harbour wall, but there was also bright sunshine. The harbour felt like a haven, as I watched The Scillonian ferry being buffetted, as it passed by on its way across to St Marys.
With John, explaining the appeal of the beach and its natural inhabitants.
The inner harbour at Mousehole, with St Michaels Mount framed by its entrance.
Mousehole is a fishing village in West Cornwall, just beyond Newlyn. It is popular with visitors, yet also has a strong fishing tradition. I enjoyed excellent fish n’chips by the harbour during my night-time visit to see the Christmas lights. All the facilities you could want are close by the attractive harbour. There are art galleries, gift shops, restaurants and cafes to choose from, as well as two pubs.
My chat with Peter, working to support the Mousehole Lights at the harbour. The anniversary he refers to is 30 years, not 25.
Chatting to local man Dan about life in West Cornwall today.
The Christmas Lights at Mousehole in West Cornwall.
The Scillonian III was preparing to leave Penzance harbour for St Marys, as I passed on my way to Mousehole in the dark. The “great white stomach churner” would have a smooth passage today, as it was a flat sea that I looked out onto from the harbour entrance at Mousehole. The village was just waking up, lights still flickering in the harbour side cottages and the first catches of the day being landed. The rising tide was still low, the fishing boats pulling on the taut, raised mooring ropes that attached them to the harbour wall, from their hard standing on the beach.
The rhythms of fortune, as a fisherman in Mousehole.
The village wakes up in the morning.
Some of the remaining Christmas lights were piled in disarray at the end of the harbour in Mousehole, due to the last round of heavy storms. This seasonal re-visit coincided with a break in the sustained period of rain and storm-force weather that was gripping the region. Although it was high tide, the waves were temporarily benign. However, evidence of the destructive power of the sea was all around, from smashed benches to the broken storm boards that had been ripped from the mouth of the harbour.
The importance of home to Keith.
A break in the stormy weather at Mousehole.