Come on Eugene

I'll try to fill a few gaps for yesterday too.
The night at Mullion Cove was one of the more memorable of the trip. Nothing dramatic occurred, it was just so pleasant. I sat out in the sunshine doing the planning, writing my diary and then the blog - meanwhile I was feeding pieces of apple to the cheeky blackbird. All in a beautiful setting. Then followed the best night of sleep of the whole trip.
In the morning Jean and Geoff were up early attending to the gardening (perhaps they didn't sleep?) and kindly came down to the pretty harbour to see me off.
I dodged the group of pontificating fishermen (I learnt my lesson in Brora) and steadily packed the Taran as I chatted with Jean and Geoff. As a rain shower came in I took my cue from the weather gods to get on, a friendly wave and out through the harbour entrance - taking a quick look at the storm damage to the harbour wall. It seems an absolute travesty that the future of the harbour now appears to be neglect, due to cost of course.
With the sleep I felt good, so it was doubly surprising that the wheels came off so soon. The high teens headwind wore me down and chilled me once again, so I headed for a small harbour S of Mousehole. Unfortunately the swell gave the landing too much potential for a comedy landing in front of the crowds, so I had my lunch afloat behind the small harbour wall.
I headed out along the coast in the shelter of the cliffs to land at Porth Curno (missing out the naturist beach where I inadvertently bivvied the last time I passed by).
A young family were the only people on the beach as they sheltered from the wind while Daughter No 1 gleefully played in the surf. One of the RNLI lifeguards trekked down the beach to grab the front end as I landed through the dump - good lad.
As I snoozed the sun came out and the beach came to life, kites were flying and people swimming. I chatted with a couple who had returned for their anniversary, 6 years after they had previously honeymooned there. The lad was proud of himself, 8 days after stopping smoking he could now beat the wife to the top of the hill. Good luck with that.
Laughter echoed across the beach as the surf smoothly removed the shorts of a lad noisily showing off in the surf.
A very pleasant young lady came to chat (but only after her husband went for a walk down the beach!) and then she waved me off.
The wind had dropped, the sun was out and Land's End slipped by in a little friendly bounce. Longships looked tempting, but no time! (The last time I visited I watched a guy hanging from a bosun's chair painting the lighthouse whilst the spray kept the soles of his boots clean!)
And then I basically made as much of the sun and tide as I could, finally reaching St Ives late in the day. It was too late for accommodation, so I sneaked my tent onto a rather too popular piece of grass on the headland overlooking the town.
Nice day, nice people - once again.
Sent from my phone