The Charm, History and Atmosphere of one of Cornwall’s Most Iconic Harbour Towns
We were in St Ives recently, staying at the impressive Treloyhan Manor, which is part of the Carbis Bay Estate - and I was remembering the first time I wrote about the town just over a quarter of a century ago. I have put the article up here because, in some ways, it now acts almost as a historic document. St Ives has changed quite a bit since I went there for my Hesp’s Harbours series, which appeared in the Western Morning News for a whole year.
The Magic of St Ives , Cornwall
The harbour at St Ives must be one of the most celebrated havens to feature on Britain's proud roster of picture-perfect ports and, judging by the crowds that fill its narrow cobbled streets throughout the year, it's certainly one of the most visited—even if it is at the far end of the West Country peninsula.
Perhaps it's the perfect pale golden sand that draws them in. Maybe it's to do with all those artists who've done so much to promote the town's wonderful intensity of light. Or possibly it's the salty, maritime charm which the place exudes with more panache and exotic mystique than a dozen other more nautical ports.
St Ives as the sun goes down
Why Tourists Love Visiting St Ives
You could almost draw an analogy with one of those big Premiership football clubs that attracts supporters from all over the world. Come rain or shine, the fans pass through the turnstiles in their droves. It's a magic no one can quite explain.
St Ives is like that. On a Tuesday morning in a grey drizzle, it will have more faithful enthusiasts plodding its cobbled streets, munching its pasties, observing its art, hiring its motorboats, drinking its ale, throwing money into its arcades, purchasing its sometimes awful Cornish gifts, riding its waves, castellating its sand and generally soaking up the atmosphere of all things Cornish and shanty-esque than any other port in the West.
Iconic Things to Do in St Ives
To many tourists, a visit to Cornwall's far west that did not include a dawdle along The Digey, a paddle on Porthmeor, a carouse in Carbis Bay, or a saunter on Smeaton's Pier would be like partaking of a very good dinner without a bottle of wine.
The place is quite literally an icon of the seaside. It is a living, working theme park that seems to say: "I've got more salt in me veins than a dozen Polperros or Looes."
Coast path west of St Ives
The Disappearing Pilchard Industry of St Ives
And it's a clever con trick because the very essence that makes St Ives sing like a mental sea-shanty is no longer there. The massive pilchard industry which shaped the picturesque Downlong area of town has completely disappeared. This was where the poorer fishermen lived among their many curing sheds and net lofts, as opposed to the "Uplong" area where the well-to-do merchants, sea captains, and professionals once based themselves.
A Saint, a Sandbank, and the Origins of St Ives
If you had visited "Downlong" before the Irish martyr St. Ia landed here more than a millennium ago, you'd have found very little but a sand bank stretching across to the Island which is nowadays one of St Ives' best known landmarks.
The sand bank separated Porthmeor Beach from what is now the harbour and it was here that St Ia washed up. She was to give the place its name and in some ways it is typical of the ephemeral and mysterious quality of St Ives that she should arrive riding upon a leaf. Most of those Irish saints crossed the sea on inflated cow's stomachs or hurdles.
St Ia chose a leaf. But she ended up the same way as all her saintly pals. "Off with her head!" roared Theodoric, King of Cornwall. And then all that was left was a name to bestow upon a tiny fishing village and later a parish church.
How St Ives Rose in Prominence
So much for early history. It was Lelant, just two miles along the coast, which played Big Brother in those days, and continued to do so until the restless sands of the Towans blew in and strangled its growth.
View east of St Ives past Lelant
Then at last, St Ives could grab the limelight, partly thanks to the wonderfully named Lord Broke, who had acquired the local manor and who, in 1488, managed to get a charter for a weekly market and two annual fairs.
A Dark Moment in Cornish Rebellion History
Lord Broke! I'll bet he wasn't — broke, I mean — and he's sure to have been a good deal more fortunate than wretched John Payne, who was Portreeve (mayor) during the so-called Prayer Book Rebellion.
That was when Cornishmen lay siege to Exeter in protest at the new English liturgy. Not a good idea. They were beaten back and when Sir Anthony Kingston came hot on their heels relieving the county of these trouble-makers, Payne went to great lengths to mollify him by diplomacy.
His efforts cost him dear. He treated Sir Anthony to a huge dinner at the George and Dragon, only to be told to have some gallows erected while they ate…
The Glory Days of Pilchard Fishing in St Ives
So let's leave politics and religion behind and make our way back through the teeming crowds to the good honest St Ives harbourside. At least here, you might think to yourself, things would have been quieter in days of old.
Not a bit of it. The place was absolutely alive with a million flapping, glinting, silver-sided fish and alive too with the frenzied actions of the men whose job it was to catch them. I'm talking about the seasonal pilchard trade which would see vast shoals entering the bay, the traditional hue and cry from the cliff-tops, and the furious efforts of nearly 1000 men on more than 400 boats.
Godrevy Light from St Ives
Pilchard Chaos: A First-Hand Account
Here's an eye-witness description of the scene written in 1890 by a Mr Anthony, part of an exhibition in the town's excellent museum:
"I have seen more than 100,000 hogsheads in St Ives bay at one time. Such a scene can never be forgotten – white bushes waving everywhere, trumpets roaring, a network of 'seans' across the bay and boats spinning about like a regatta."
When you consider that a hogshead was a cask designed to hold 3,000 pilchards, you get some idea of the colossal shoals. The "white bushes" were semaphores used by the huers—men on the cliffs directing the boats.
Visit the St Ives Museum and Relive Fishing History
The huers also blew massive trumpets to alert fishermen. Visitors to St Ives museum, located on Wheal Dream, can see one of these ear-splitting devices. There’s also a wide variety of pilchard industry relics—including wooden shovels, original fish presses, and exquisite sepia photographs by Lander Elvin Comley.
A Modern Harbour with a Historic Soul
"There's not a pilchard left," sighs St Ives harbour master Eric Ward, who now manages the harbour where he once fished. "Not a single pilchard have I seen in this bay for years. The sea around here used to go a sort of reddish colour there were so many of them."
But pilchards are not the only fish to have vanished. "There are about 30 full-time or part-time fishermen working out of St Ives now, and some have to do other jobs like flower-picking to make ends meet," says Eric.
Street in the St Ives Downlong
Does he miss it? "No I do not. Not the way it is nowadays. I'm lucky, this is a wonderful harbour and I suppose in a way it's a bit unique. It's got clear water and perfect sand so the visitors use it like a beach. I have a bit of a balancing act to perform – it's still a working harbour and at the same time we like to make sure the holiday makers are happy."
St Ives Harbour Today: A Living Seaside Legacy
Imagine the mayhem if they were still landing three million pilchards at a time among the tourists and sun-bathers…
Nowadays it's more likely to be a couple of buckets of mackerel. But when they've all gone and the last St Ives fisherman hangs up his pots and nets, the place will still exude the atmosphere of a sea-shanty, and it will still be packed with people who've travelled hundreds of miles just to sniff the smell of the ocean and dream of salty days of yore.
