The annual floral floorshow is well underway. For that is what this walk provides in spring – and it all takes place just a few miles outside of Newquay.

What saved the coast just south of town from the town’s urban sprawl is The Gannel. For those of you who don’t know it, this is Newquay’s very own estuary. Various schemes were put forward down the years to have the bothersome creek dammed or reclaimed, so that Newquay could extend across all the lovely dunes to the south. 

Imagine the horrors that would have been built had this occurred. However, The Gannel stood – or rather, flowed – strong. Consequently the area that begins just a few hundred yards south from the centre of town remains wonderfully untouched. 

So much so that the National Trust owns a good deal of the area, thereby ensuring its conservation.

To start this hike we go to the Trust’s car park near the coastal village of Holywell, tucked between the giant dunes of Holywell Bay and the old military camp at Penhale. If you’re entering the village by car, bear left at the bottom of the hill and proceed a few yards until you see the trust car park.

Now it’s simply a matter of taking the footpath down to the beach. After a minute or two, I could see that the coast path north extended directly up into the dunes, but having never been to Holywell before I thought I’d take a turn on the beach. I’m glad I did, as it’s as delightful a strand as you’ll find anywhere. 

In his book Walking in Cornwall, written more than 80 years ago, JRA Hockin says that some people claimed the beach to be the sweetest bay in England. “There is just that symmetry in its setting and shape to point the exquisite harmonies of lofty, marram-crusted sand-hills, acres of golden, surf-washed beach, and two lines of delicately tinted cliffs framing a restless segment of blinding blue, while the cleft pile of Carter’s Rocks off Penhale Point disciplines the horizon and prevents the limitlessness of sea and sky from overwhelming the scene.”

Good old JRA also found Holywell Cave in the cliffs to the north of the bay and described it thus: “A boulder-guarded sea cavern where the water seeps out of the rock into a little basin near the roof.”

I should add that the Trust advise you not to go there alone as the steps up to the cavern are very slippery. Certainly, you should never go there on a rising tide.

I did not visit the cave because I was making my way up onto the dunes in order to regain the coast path. It’s quite a haul up those sand-hills and the trust ask that you do not walk on the marram grass but try to keep to the various paths where wooden steps are provided in the steep bits. It’s important to try to stop erosion of the giant dunes.

Walking north we come to the big headland known as The Kelseys. This is the name of the three large and ancient enclosures which cover this north-pointing cape. The outer wall is now just a bank of collapsed stone, but the others are still more or less intact and are reminiscent of the ‘cornditches’ to be found on Dartmoor. In other words, they have a vertical face and a sloping face – in the case of Dartmoor this was to keep the King’s deer out of the fields (the vertical side), but to allow them to clamber back over the wall if they did get in.

Out at the end of Kelsey Head you will see the low wall that is all that remains of an ancient cliff castle. Easy to defend, but I always wonder what the inmates did for freshwater if and when they were besieged.

Just off the headland is a rock island called The Chick, which the Trust also owns. By the way, as we turned the corner we saw a stoat loping through the profusion of flowers. The sighting didn’t surprise me in the least – if the number of holes is anything to go by this is rabbit-central.

Walking back down the north east flank of The Kelseys we were introduced to the aforementioned Polly Joke. The proper name is Porth Joke, but for some reason the locals call it Polly. I don’t know why – but I do know that the ‘Joke’ bit is derived from the same source as the word ‘chough’ (as in the bird).

We now headed inland, up the footpath along the pretty valley, until we came to another Trust car park. Now we followed another path south, up the small depression onto Cubert Common. In doing so I was reminded of another of the area’s great claims to fame - it used to be said that the sweetest mutton in all England was reared on these very grasslands. Some say it was because of the rich profusion of different plants grown in an area that is so naturally rich in lime – Hockin reports that it could have been due to: “The sheep eating the little slugs and snails that abound on turfed sand-hills.”

Whatever the reason, I wish someone would rear some sheep in the area now so we could find out whether or not the claim was true. I’m told this is unlikely because of the number of people who walk dogs out here, which is a pity.

To return to my car, I followed the overland path back to Holywell. This took me over the ridge of hill and past the northern perimeter of the golf links, then it was a descent down to the rear of the dunes and on, in turn, to the centre of the village. An easy hike in a surprisingly scenic seaside zone – I look forward to returning to explore the rest of the Newquay that never was.

Fact File

Basic hike: from Holywell north to Kelsey Head, then past the beach at Polly Joke to return to the village via Cubert Common.

Recommended map: Ordnance Survey Explorer 104 Redruth and St Agnes.

Distance and going: three miles – easy going.