Ben Lerwill

4 days ago | countrylife.co.uk | Ben Lerwill

Cornishman John Carter, born in 1738, was quite the character. He was fond of playing soldier games as a youngster, getting so into the spirit of these adventures that he was known as the King of Prussia, perhaps partly due to his resemblance to Frederick the Great. Fast forward a few years and that boy was on his way to becoming one of the most famed smugglers the county has ever seen. It was a time when salt, gin and tobacco were all in high demand and heavily taxed.

1 week ago | countrylife.co.uk | Ben Lerwill

At low tide, the dune-backed coastal expanse known as The Towans becomes a single three-mile strand of golden sand, stretching majestically along the eastern curve of St Ives Bay. Look more closely at the map — or wait until the tide comes in — and you’ll see that it’s more than half a dozen separate beaches. All are worthy of your attention, but special mention goes to Gwithian Towans, near the north-eastern extremity of the bay.

1 week ago | countrylife.co.uk | Ben Lerwill

Many of Cornwall’s most rewarding coastal spots require effort to reach them. Such is the case with Nanjizal Beach (which also goes by the more prosaic name of Mill Bay), a narrow, handsomely higgledy sea inlet that can only be accessed along the coastal path. It sits about half an hour’s walk south of Land’s End, although the contrast between the two sites could hardly be greater.

1 week ago | countrylife.co.uk | Ben Lerwill |Lotte Brundle

One of seven creeks feeding into Cornwall's Helford River, the tree-shrouded, slow-running Mawgan Creek — not to be confused with the glamorous Mawgan Porth on the north coast — serves as an unspoilt antidote to some of the county’s more overvisited corners. An air of serenity hangs over its banks, broken only by the lapping of the tide, fluting birdsong and perhaps the occasional whoop of a jubilant kayaker.

1 week ago | countrylife.co.uk | Ben Lerwill |Lotte Brundle

Let’s voyage offshore to a savagely windy night in 1669. Dark waves pounded the hull of a passing Spanish galleon trapped in the eye of the tempest. The ship, which went by the name San Salvador, could only cope for so long. By daybreak, it was wrecked on the rocks, its crew lost and its bounty of silver coins sunk. Over the centuries that followed, these dollar pieces washed up on the coast around the hamlet of Gunwalloe, ghostly monetary mementoes of a long-gone storm.