The Cornish fishing village of Polperro is so pretty it regularly gets named as being one of the “most picturesque” in the UK.
I grew up in Mousehole – another village in Cornwall that is also often given similar epithets. Given that, I’m not easily impressed by quaint seaside towns and villages – as I’m lucky enough to have lived in one of the very loveliest.
But even I am seduced by Polperro. It really is ridiculously pretty.
Located in South East Cornwall, Polperro is hidden away in steeply-sided valley. Many of its homes cling to these slopes like limpets, as the village tumbles down towards the sea.
Most of its streets are far too narrow for vehicles – and visitors’ cars are banned. Fortunately, there’sa large – but expensive – car park at the entrance to the village.
From here, it’s a 10-minute walk stroll into the heart of the village. It’s a walk that starts off well – and gets even better.
Past a watermill that’s now a pub – the brilliantly named Crumplehorn Inn – the start of the road down into the village is lined with pretty dormer bungalows and houses.
These are either built in the hillside – or reached by small bridges that cross the small river that has carved the valley Polperro is hidden in.
As one gets closer to the village proper the valley-sides get steeper and closer, the road narrows into single file, the houses get older – and the cottages close in on you.
As you pass a multitude pasty shops, pubs, cafes, gift shops and galleries, keep an eye out for Polperro Model Village. This quirky little gem contains a scale replica of the village, complete with a model village – with its own model village.
Wandering further into the real village, it begins to look as fanciful as its smaller sibling. And, as one reaches the harbour, it really does resemble something from the pages of Treasure Island that has magically come to life.
Polperro actually was once home to pirates and smugglers – and there is even a small museum dedicated to the latter. It tells the story of Willy Wilcox – after a Polperro smuggler who drowned in the cave that is now named after him, on the beach by the harbour mouth, while hiding from Customs men.
It also tells the story of ‘Battling Billy’, who once upon a time ran the Halfway House Inn in the village. He used a hearse to smuggle brandy – and ended up being chased by customs men.
Local legend has it that he was shot in the neck and killed – but his spooked horses kept on galloping, dragging Battling Billy and his hearse right down the main street, off the quayside and the harbour.
Having grown up in Cornwall, on tales of wreckers – and invasions by the Spanish Armada and Barbary pirates – these colourful tales come as little surprise.
What did surprise me was how strong the community is that still lives on here, in this village that looks like something from a fairytale.