Everyone knows that person who spends weeks sniffing around travel blogs, going deep into Tripadvisor rabbit holes, collecting Google docs from friends of friends, and creating A Beautiful Mind–style spreadsheets to come up with the best vacations and itineraries possible. In this recurring series, we find those people who’ve done all the work for you and have them walk us through a particularly wonderful, especially well-thought-out vacation they took that you can actually steal.
On incredibly rare occasions, someone will offer me a job that I immediately accept — without hearing logistics, checking my calendar, or even inquiring as to how much it pays. “Teach a course on Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca” was one such offer, and as such, I was lucky enough to spend five days at a retreat near Saltash, on the far eastern side of Cornwall, just over the border from Devon in southwest England, talking about gothic literature and going on to places that inspired du Maurier. When the trip was over, I had planned to spend a few extra days in London on my own, but at the last minute, I came to a realization: When was the next time I was going to be in Cornwall? So I canceled my flight out of Heathrow and, after the course was over, I hopped on a train west to the Cornish coast, lured by the promise of really good ice cream and the best beaches England has to offer.
When the railroad across England was built in the mid-1800s, Cornwall exploded as a tourist destination (especially when the Napoleonic Wars prevented well-to-do youths from going on their Grand Tours internationally, and they had to settle for the best England had to offer instead).
But over the past few decades, with international flights becoming increasingly frequent and fairly cheap, a British family looking for a beach vacation might prefer somewhere like Spain, where the weather is almost guaranteed to be warm, as opposed to Cornwall, pretty as it is, but still at risk for English weather. And so even though Cornwall has been a tourist destination for literally hundreds of years, it still somehow feels undiscovered by the massive machine of international TikTok #wanderlust tourism. It is untrendy in the best possible way. By the sheer strength of its own stubborn character, Cornwall has preserved a sleepy, nostalgic sense of kitsch without it ever feeling like self-parody.
Day 1
10 a.m. Walk along the South West Coast Path to Mousehole
From Plymouth in Devon, I took the train three hours to Penzance — as far as the national rail goes. I chose Penzance as my home base for the next few days, mostly because it was an incredibly convenient situation with regards to public transportation.
There are not many hotels in Penzance — even though it’s a place that relies on tourism, there are no major chains or luxury high-rises. I stayed at the Artist’s Residence in Penzance (20 Chapel St, Penzance), an artsy boutique hotel thankfully just this side of too trendy (think an Ace Hotel in a slightly lopsided wooden building from the 18th century). My room had a claw-foot tub, a minibar full of artisanal snacks, and walls crowded with Banksy-adjacent art from local artists. And, helpfully for someone traveling alone, there was a cozy all-day café on the hotel’s first floor, which made a good place for me to hole up with my laptop or a book if I wanted an easy meal option or lowkey way to pass an afternoon.
Most visitors to Cornwall, or at least the ones I chatted with, were families (almost all British) with young kids who rented out houses in Cornwall for longer stretches of time. Airbnbs are incredibly common, and most of them (at least after a cursory search) look fairly affordable with excellent access to beaches. Penzance is the easiest place to stay with regards to train access, but I’d say Mousehole is your best option if you want the classic cozy fishing-town vibes. St. Ives is much more bustling, with bigger and better beaches but also much bigger crowds.
One great thing about Cornwall is the South West Coast (SWC) path, England’s longest footpath, stretching for more than 600 miles along the coast. My friend Nadine had a free morning before she had a flight out of London, so the two of us walked along the water for about 40 minutes to Mousehole (pronounced MOW-zell, but if that isn’t a freaking children’s-book town name, I don’t know what is).
Noon: Hit up a local craft fair
We grabbed iced teas at the Orange Cafe (Parade Hill, Mousehole, Penzance) when we arrived to town, and our attention was immediately captured by signs for a local craft fair. We found it hidden away and up a flight of stairs. I bought a ceramic creamer from an older gentleman bragging about how his wife made it herself.
1 p.m.: Get a Cornish pasty
Nadine had to head back to London, but I spent a little longer exploring Mousehole. On the recommendation of my friend the historian Dan Jones, I got my first authentic Cornish pasty of the trip, a steak pasty that came out piping hot and the size of my head (ideal) from the Mousehole Deli (N Cliff, Mousehole, Penzance TR19 6PH, United Kingdom). As per his recommendation, I ate it at the rock pool perched on a stone and people-watching the families wading into the water.
3 p.m.: Eat the best ice cream in Britain
On the walk back to Penzance, I stopped halfway at a little town (really more of a street and a corner?) called Newlyn, where there’s an ice-cream shop that’s been in business since 1946 called Jelbert’s (9 New Rd, Newlyn, Penzance). They only do one flavor — vanilla — and the kids working there scoop it out of an industrial tube and then add a dollop of clotted cream and/or a flake on top. If you go, you must get the clotted cream, which is unsweetened and perfectly fatty and becomes somehow crystallized as it freezes in contact with the ice cream. I recognize that this sort of travelog is vulnerable to hyperbole, but I hope you understand that I am being entirely honest when I say it was one of the best bites of ice cream I have ever had in my entire life.
Day 2
10 a.m.: Take a train to St. Ives
My plan for the day was to take one of the double-decker buses that pass through town once an hour to Porthcurno, a beach town out to the west, where I could see a matinee at the Minack Theater (nearly a hundred years old, outdoor amphitheater-style performance space, quite literally carved out of the rocks on the coast). But when the bus passed, it was full and the driver shrugged at me. I didn’t want to wait another hour for the possibility of another full bus, so I made a game-time decision: going to St. Ives instead. I took a slightly longer train route, transferring at St. Erth, so I could ride the train along the coast for beautiful views. It was absolutely worth it.
The train was crowded with families, most consisting of young kids and parents already exhausted by the prospect of the beach day to come. As soon as we got into the station, I walked down to the town center; there, I got my second Cornish pasty of the trip and a Portuguese custard tart from St. Ives Bakery.
1 p.m.: Visit the Tate St. Ives
In the 20th century, artists like Barbara Hepworth and Mark Rothko flocked to St. Ives because of its apparently special quality of light. In the ’90s, the Tate (Porthmeor Beach, Saint Ives) built a gallery around a former gasworks building with a circular rotunda and a vast view of the beach. The most striking work of art I saw was the rainbow, psychedelic installation by Sol LeWitt, which curved around the atrium facing the ocean, with colors so bright you almost couldn’t look directly at it.
2:30 p.m.: Conquer the island that’s not really an island
The “Island” on St. Ives is actually more of a grassy hill. I hiked to the top, weaving between picture-wholesome children with kites, to get an incredible view of the town’s vast beaches in every direction before I perched on a bench to read one of my little books about sad women going through existential crises.
5 p.m.: Pretend to be rich at the Porthminster Beach Café
Part of traveling alone means my body naturally adapts to a grandmother calendar. Around 5 p.m., I got a late lunch/early dinner at Porthminster Beach Café (Porthminster Beach, Carbis Bay, Saint Ives), which had incredible views but prices to match. If I were going back, I would be perfectly happy just grabbing a bite at the café’s to-go shack and eating on the beach.
6 p.m.: Protect your ice cream from seagulls
I ended the afternoon with ice cream from a local creamery called Moomaid of Zennor (Street-An-Pol, Saint Ives). I got the house flavor, called “Shipwreck.” The very next day, a friend told me she had also gone to Moomaid and a gallivanting seagull had swooped in and stolen her entire ice-cream cone! Head on a swivel to protect your ice cream, folks!
Day 3
10 a.m.: Visit St. Michael’s Mount
About a 45-minute walk to the east is St. Michael’s Mount, an incredibly beautiful 11th-century castle built on a tidal island. Basically, that means you can sometimes walk ten minutes or so along a stone path to get to the castle’s little island, but sometimes the tide comes in and it’s only reachable by ferry.
My friend Vanessa and I walked and got high tea at the castle’s café (very important to put the jam on before the clotted cream in Cornwall. People will come to blows over it) before exploring the site itself. We are both adults, but we were given a sticker scavenger-hunt activity sheet, and it would have felt rude not to complete it.
The most interesting bit of history about the castle to me: It was briefly captured by Perkin Warbeck, the Tudor-era imposter who claimed to be one of the missing nephews of Richard III. By the time we left St. Michael’s, the tide was coming in and we walked along the stone path through a few inches of water.
2 p.m.: Swim in the Penzance Lido
When we made it back to Penzance, we changed into our swimsuits and spent the afternoon in the Lido — basically an outdoor ocean-fed saltwater swimming pool. If you want to go in the warm thermal-heated section of the pool, make a reservation in advance, but otherwise you can just show up and enjoy the salt water. We rented two lounge chairs for 1.50 pounds each and read our books when we wanted to dry off.
7 p.m.: Eat dinner at the Shore
Dinner that night was at the Shore (13-14 Alverton St, Penzance), a truly bananas experience. Possibly the most interesting meal I’ve had in my life? It’s one seating, and there were just three tables in the restaurant. The staff was two people: one server-hostess and the chef-owner, a Scottish man named Bruce with the energy of someone who just licked a battery, who came out between every course to explain what we were eating and where he sourced the local ingredients. He wasn’t wearing shoes. The “menu” was a poem. Apparently, Bruce had done the fine-dining grind but had found true happiness just being able to cook one meal a night, using whatever ingredients inspired him that day, and writing his poems. If the food had been terrible, we still would have had a fun time just experiencing it all together in real time, but the thing is the food was incredible. I still dream about Bruce’s basil sorbet.
Day 4
10 a.m.: E-bike over to Mousehole
This was my final day in Cornwall, and I was determined to make it to the Minack Theater (Porthcurno, Penzance). This time when the bus came by (full again), I wasn’t deterred. I had run out of plan-B options and I would make it to the Minack Theatre, goddammit. I rented an electric bike from a flock of them I saw on the street through an app called Beryl, and I rode back up to Mousehole, where I deposited it at the app-designed spot. Then I walked about 20 minutes on a concerningly isolated road to another bus stop. Somehow, when the bus rolled up the street this time there was plenty of room for me to get on. It was the same bus driver who had driven past me twice before, and he recognized me and gave me a look as I boarded like, “Hey! You did it!”
11 a.m.: Spot the Merry Maidens
The bus was a double decker, and I sat on the top so that I could get a glimpse as we passed a neolithic stone arrangement called the Merry Maidens. Allegedly, 12 girls were out dancing after dark and so they were punished by being transformed into stone. This is why we need feminism, etc.
2 p.m.: See a matinee at the Minack Theatre
I made it to the Minack in time for my matinee — Everybody’s Talking About Jamie, which was just delightfully British. I got lunch at the theater because by the time the bus made it, I was starving. This was pasty No. 3, by far the weakest of the bunch.
5 p.m.: Get ice cream one last time
If I surfed or liked the ocean more, I would have spent more time in Porthcurno, but I don’t, and so I took the bus back to Newlyn instead of all the way to Penzance, because I wanted to get that goddamn vanilla ice cream one more time. I did it, and it was so worth it.
Day 5
11 a.m.: Fly out of Newquay Airport
The next morning, I flew out of Newquay Airport. Cabs are hard to come by in Cornwall, and Uber is nonexistent, so I asked the front desk of the hotel to reserve my cab for the time I needed it the morning before I left. In a move that left me feeling only moderately uncomfortable, the cab driver insisted I sit in the front seat for the 45-minute drive from Penzance to Newquay so he wouldn’t “have to turn my head back to talk!” I arrived, mercifully un-serial-killed, at the incredibly tiny but very convenient airport, with a connection in Dublin before my flight back to America.
Dana’s Cornwall Packing List
The weather changes on a dime in Cornwall, and a walk can go from misty rain to balmy sun in a matter of minutes, which means layers are essential. I wore this Everlane anorak basically every day — even when it was warm, it rolled up like a dream and took up no space at all in my backpack. Perfect for a surprise shower or for spreading out when I wanted to sit out on damp rocks.
[Editor’s note: Right now, sizing is limited for the ReNew Anorak.]
These pants became my daily uniform: I bought them in two colors — one jogger, one regular — before the trip, and I still wear them. They’re stretchy, lightweight, and perfect for long walks along the coast.
I didn’t wear much makeup on the trip because I was alone and spending the vast majority of my time scarfing shortcrust pastry while sitting on rocks, but I did use this Ilia multi-stick on my cheeks to give me a natural flush that said, “She’s outdoorsy!”
When it came to footwear, I wore Merrells for the longer hikes. But on day-to-day walks, I wore my Teva Universal sandals, which were especially helpful when the tide started to come in as I was walking back from St. Michael’s Mount. Mine are the Midform Universals with a little extra height, which qualifies as day-to-night in Cornwall. They’re a classic for a reason! If you’re traveling to a rocky, coastal region, there’s no need to reinvent the wheel to try to prove how original you are. Tevas work!!!!!
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