At the end of my day, approaching Perrenporth, I could walk all the way down Perren Beach to town if I could reach Cottys Point before the tide put the beach under water there. Otherwise, I'd have to climb still another high headland, and back down the other side, to reach town. I barely made it.
The teenagers behind me didn't quite make it, and found the need to wade through the incoming tide hilarious. One lad portaged his and his girlfriend's shoes on a boogie board on a tether, while the other guy told the girls that just to be on the safe side they should probably take their pants off.
In between the River Gannel and Cottys Point, I found the youngest surfing class yet on Holywell Beach. There are surfing classes on every beach, but they're generally filled with teenage girls. I guess guys think it's beneath their dignity to take formal classes, and girls think surfing is where the boys are.
But this co-educational class was getting an enthusiastic early start on the favorite local sport, under the watchful supervision of a number of instructors and, off camera, a gaggle of mother hens.