Kynance Cove is stuff of childhood dreams. Rocky, wild and raw. Owned and preserved by the National Trust, it is a gem of a beach.

The trek down from the cliff top car park to the beach gives tiny glimpses of the clear turquoise seas crashing below. The track down can be treacherous at times, I was told there is an easier and longer route round, but my children needed to get down quick, so we took our lives in our hands. Scrambling over large boulders, hoping to make it across before the ocean smashed a wave over use, to finally land on the most spectacular beach with white sands and soaring cliffs covered in barnacles.

At very low tide the sea allowed us to skip round to the other bays, to search for buried treasure in the many caves. We all became giddy in the delight of placing the first footstep on washed new sand. Jumping in and out of waves, rushing to crash us against the jagged rocks. Legend has it that pirates used Kynance Cove to bring their booty ashore, burying it in the deep caves of the cliffs. In recent years gold coins have been found washed up on the beach. Sadly we didn’t find one, maybe next time.

Kynance Cove will always be in my heart; the pina colada smell of the bright yellow gorse, the colour of the ocean, lilac sea thrift billowing in the breeze, seagulls calling. The smell of sea salt still lingers with me…

Images by Lou Archell