Some Mevagissey Magic

Although I a gave a brief entry to Mevagissey in my "Cornish Riviera" journal last year, the village has always warranted a more in-depth look at what it has to offer for the visitor. Indeed, with it’s typically Cornish whitewashed cottages spilling down the hillsides and huddling around the busy harbour, it symbolises what many people have come to think of as the "real" Cornwall.

It has a splendid collection of arts-and-crafts shops, all featuring work by local artists and sculptors; a fine selection of waterside pubs where you may tarry and watch the fisherman go about their business; some good restaurants and cafés; a superb little museum that chronicles the lives of the residents over the past 200 years or more; a sea water aquarium; and more photo opportunities than you can shake a stick at.

The bustling harbour is never quiet, whether it be the local small trawlers unloading their catches or the plethora of pleasure craft offering everything from an hour’s trip around the bay to a full day’s shark fishing.

Yes, of course the place has had to succumb to commercialization. Without this guaranteed source of income, it would have died many years ago as the fish stocks dwindled and the EEC mandarins squeezed ever tighter, but Mevagissey has retained its charm and true Cornish ethos, and for this, it has survived where other small coastal villages have become almost ghost towns, their slate and stone walls echoing with the long distant cacophony of tin miners, smugglers, and fishermen.

Although an ex-resident and greatest ambassador for Polperro, I still reckon on Mevagissey as being the best and most well preserved and atmospheric place of its type in the Duchy. It still lives and breathes for the sea where others have turned off the ventilators and slipped quietly into oblivion.

Quick Tips:

Mevagissey is well served with car parks, although these fill rapidly during the May-to-September season, so turn up early to grab that space. It has a one-way system in the village that is well-signposted but extremely narrow and has no sidewalks for pedestrians.

Although places like Polperro have banned cars from the villages, Mevagissey still suffers from congestion caused mainly by drivers who, for whatever reason, think they can get that bit nearer the harbour by ignoring the car park signs. I’ve seen camper vans wedged tightly between two unrelenting granite walls and the subsequent damage caused to the vehicle.

Remember that this is still a working harbour with nets, steel hawsers, and other fishing paraphernalia littering the quaysides, and when the tide is out, it is a long drop from the quay into the mud.

Seagulls are a menace here; they now view the tourist as their primary source of food (not literally, you understand!) and will fearlessly swoop down and wrench that pasty or sandwich from your grasp without hesitation. Heed the notices imploring you NOT to feed them, which only makes them bolder and even more reliant on the visitor.

Best Way To Get Around:

Mevagissey is situated on the B3273, about 5 miles south of St Austell. This road is busy and narrow in places. Cycle hire is available in Pentewan, a tiny village found just off the B3273, 2 miles from Mevagissey.

Cycles can be hired in St Austell, and there is an excellent cycle path that follows the dismantled china-clay railway line that ran from St Austell to the now-disused harbour at Pentewan. Once beyond Pentewan, the road climbs a steep, winding headland before its long drop down into the village.

As with anywhere in Cornwall, the walker is well catered for with the Cornish coast path leading to the village from both directions. It is well maintained and signposted and offers stunning views of the coastline and sea. Some parts of the path are high above the waves and do not have any handrails, so care is necessary on these stretches.

St Austell has a station served by London Paddington, and being a town of 35,000 inhabitants, offers supermarkets, pubs, clubs, restaurants, and a car hire, as well as being a good hub from which to explore the area.

Catering as it does for a huge influx of summer visitors, Mevagissey has a wide range of cafés and restaurants to suit most palates and purses. Every other building seems to have boards outside inviting you to come inside and sample the wares.

Easily the largest in the village is the Shark’s Fin Restaurant, offering everything from a scone and butter to a three-course lunch. The place appeared full, although I couldn’t fail to notice the vast deposits of seagull crap adorning all the front windows, obscuring the diners’ view of the harbour. Needless to say, this is a problem for all businesses in the place given the local gull population. But come on guys, this is a restaurant and I would be definitely dissuaded from entering a place like this that can’t be bothered to wash their windows. It made me wonder what the kitchens were like…

Moving on quickly, I found the Big’Un, which was very small, strangely with just a couple of tables outside and half a dozen inside. The menu looked appetizing, but I decided to continue and see what the village had to offer. Next was the Wheelhouse Restaurant towards the south quay, and so far, the best looking in terms of cleanliness and menu. Needless to say, fish is the order of the day here with everything from fresh cod and chips to grilled sea bass and lobster. It too was packed, and at least the patrons could avail themselves of the view!

Deciding to venture further up the lanes, I made a wonderful discovery. This was in the shape of Alvorada, a Portuguese restaurant owned and run by a Portuguese couple. This I couldn’t resist and, somewhat hungry after all this walking and beer sampling, decided to give it a go.

Well, it was superb, with local produce and fish done in a Portuguese style, served with a flourish by a girl in a crisp white apron onto a starched linen tablecloth with matching napkins. I couldn’t see these guys leaving bird crap all over the windows somehow. I settled for the Portuguese cheese and olives to start, followed by a wonderful seafood platter consisting of scallops, squid, mussels, local mackerel, John Dory, and prawns, and what a taste bud sensation it was! It was a bit extravagant really; if I hadn’t stumbled across this place, I’d have settled for a pasty!

I also felt a little guilty that I’d had a "foreign" lunch whilst visiting one of my favourite places, but I can always see those another day. With belly hanging over the jeans, I retraced my steps to the waiting car and bid a fond farewell to Mevagissey. This place never disappoints, no matter how often you call by.

Few people are aware that Mevagissey boasts a superb little museum positioned at the end of the north quay in an 18th-century boat-builders shed. It is a wooden building on three floors, very rustic, and probably much as it was 200 years ago when it repaired smuggling vessels.

Most of the roof supports are spars from the old revenue dodgers’ boats, which were refitted or broken up on this site. There is an old lathe upstairs that would have made the replacements.

The entrance fee is just £1, and you can linger as long as you want for this princely sum. The displays feature the way life has been conducted in the village over the centuries and has well-preserved fishing gear, china clay industry implements, and a huge cider press. The walls are adorned with photographs, some of them of the very early Daguerreotype form depicting the exceptionally tough life these folk endured in the pursuit of a crust.

One gets the feeling that some of the exhibits on show have almost been thrown into the museum, but in a strange way, this only goes to heighten the reality that life back then was very hard.

Other exhibits feature a typical Cornish kitchen, along with the wondrous "Star Gazy" pie, mentioned in my Penwith Peninsula journal. There are boats hanging from the ceiling, all types of nautical paraphernalia, signal lamps, hand carved models, flags, cabinets full of clay pipes, watches, tools and coins, fishing nets, charts, agricultural machinery, spinning wheels, and a stand devoted to Andrew Pears, the village’s most famous son.

Pears was a young barber cutting hair and trimming beards in Mevagissey over 200 years ago. In 1789, he went to London, where he groomed the gentry and heeded their complaints about the effect that harsh soaps had upon their complexions. He experimented and came up with the lightest, most perfect soap for the gentry – Pears. The museum features an ad from an edition of Punch, dated from 1884, extolling the virtues of Pears’ invention.

Do make the effort to stroll along the quay and see the broader picture of life that emerges in Mevagissey via this wide collection of artifacts. A free guide leaflet is available on entry.

Mevagissey offers a wealth of shops selling everything from local pottery and art to fudge, pasties, and of course, gifts.

The village is somewhat spread out, with the principal shops scattered this way and that along narrow streets and lanes. This gives you the perfect excuse to wander freely and see what is on offer.

As you leave your car at the main car park, you will see the Old Barkhouse on the left. This is a touristy shop selling trinkets, beach gear, clothes, and anything you can think off that could have "Mevagissey" splashed across it. They are nice enough to have a quick look, but there are much better nearer the quay. Next door is Lavender Pillow, specialising in candles, joss sticks, and anything that can give off a nice smell. It’s more for the ladies, I imagine.

Venture forth another 50 yards to find Curio Corner, my favourite and a cornucopia of everything: porcelain, pottery, glass, bric-a-brac, and what many may consider to be downright junk. But it’s always full and the till is constantly ringing.

As you near the village centre, many of the premises are taken by galleries and pottery shops, mostly featuring the work of local artists. Of particular note is Phil Gardner Pottery and the rather strange mix of Cornish Coffee and Pottery, both with lovely window displays of goods for sale in striking Celtic patterns and glazes.

Needless to say, you can’t get hungry here. There are several pasty shops all offering a bewildering array of fare. The pasty was originally invented for the tin miners who spent 12 hours a day working in appalling conditions. The pasty was baked with a beef, potato, swede, and carrot filling at one end and a sweet filling at the other. The pasty was edged with a huge, thick crust with which the miners held on to whilst working with filthy hands. Everything was eaten save for the crust, which would have been by design very dirty. So you had a main course and dessert in one large "pie," after which you ditched the crust.

There are also shops selling those two other Cornish delicacies, fudge and ice cream. Many offer a mailing service to send fudge to a friend or relative back home.

Along the quayside are several gift shops and further galleries, all offering seascapes in oils and watercolours and many painted in studios overlooking the harbour.

Most of the fun here is exploring. Just when you think you’ve come to the end of the street, you turn a corner and even more awaits you. I always enjoy moseying around here, and I’m certain you will, too.

As with most fishing villages, Mevagissey has its fair share of pubs. I found five during my wander, and by restricting myself to a paltry "half" in each establishment, managed to visit them all.

The largest here is the Ship Inn, just down from the main car park. A St Austell Brewery house, it offers a good range of cask beers, as well as lagers and Guinness. The place was packed at 12:30pm with those seeking an early pint. The menu was comprehensive, but I decided to wait awhile to see if something else took my fancy. There is a good atmosphere here, but it’s not really a locals’ pub, judging by the array of regional accents wafting through the air.

Almost opposite is the Cellar Bar, tucked away behind the village war memorial. As its name suggests, you go down some steps and into a smoky but atmospheric bar. The beer was, again, well kept, and the small number of customers inside meant that the barman was more than happy to spend 10 minutes chatting about the place. I left feeling aggrieved that I had the car ride home to consider.

The Harbour Tavern, right on the quayside, doesn’t give off the aura of being a particularly inviting pub from the stark and rather bland exterior, but don’t be deceived. This has recently been acquired by Skinners Brewery of Truro (please see my Truro journal), and for me, was the best in town. There were a great range of Skinners’ cracking ales, good bar staff, noisy but not overpowering background, some friendly locals, and of course, as its name suggests, a superb view of the harbour. Not to be missed.

The next port of call was the Kings Arms tucked away up one of the narrow side streets, but it was, once again, not exactly screaming at me to go inside. But in I went to find what was the real locals’ pub of the village. Initially, it was a bit like the old Babycham TV ad where the guy orders a Babycham and everyone else in the place puts their drinks down, stops talking, and turns to look at him.

This was taken as only polite curiosity, though, and I settled back to enjoy the beer, although the view of a stone wall through the nearest window wasn’t the best in the village.

Finally, I found the Fountain Inn, half hidden by flowers up a tiny alley and a worthy last stop. This is a very quaint, village-type pub with a decent selection of locals and tourists, as well as well-kept beer and a good lunch menu. I sank my paltry half and wandered back out into the afternoon sun, wishing the car was at home and I was here on holiday. Still, you can’t have it your own way all the time can you?

Mevagissey grew wealthy with both fishing and smuggling. During the early 19th century, it boasted a fleet of some 60 or so fishing boats all in pursuit of the humble pilchard, which formed not only the staple diet of the villagers, but also provided oil for their lamps. Much of the catch was sent to the continent, where pilchards (or sardines as our continental friends preferred to call them) were in high demand.

During these times, the village would have performed all the operations locally: catching, processing, and packing. At the height of it, the boats were bringing home anything up to 15,000 tonnes of pilchards per year, and this continued right up to the start of the First World War. Such was the scale of this industry that the village obtained an act of Parliament in 1866 allowing it to enlarge the existing harbour to cater to the sheer number of boats and to provide adequate landing room for the catches.

Everything about the village would have been centred around fishing. All the restaurants and shops along the quayside would at one time have been repair workshops, packing sheds, and sail lofts, all working at fever pitch to ensure that every possible boat was ready to catch the next high tide. It was even known for a "watcher" to wait on the high cliff tops until the telltale blackening of the coastal waters indicated a huge shoal ready for the taking.

Smuggling was of course never officially admitted. The Revenue men were known to disguise themselves as fishermen in order to eavesdrop on the locals as they huddled in the taverns to plan the next nefarious deed. But such a rocky coastline, with its coves and inlets, was impossible to police effectively, and thousands of casks of rum, brandy, and other strong liquor would have been manhandled up roughly hewn stone steps under a new moon, hopefully out of sight of the excise officers.

To be caught meant certain hanging but the rewards were so high that most became willingly involved in these deeds without a second thought. From here, the illicit goods were carted up to Bodmin or Liskeard for ongoing transportation to the paymasters in London.

Smuggling is, of course (allegedly), no more whilst the fishing industry shrinks every year under the vice-like grip of Brussels. The pilchard is not thought of as a particular delicacy in Britain and commands a low price. On the continent it is highly regarded, but the foreign trawlers scoop up more in a single catch than Mevagissey’s remaining fleet land in a week. How much further this will be allowed to continue remains to be seen…