A Walk Along the Cliff Path: From Harbor to Headland

Every coastal town has a walk that locals take for granted and visitors stumble upon by accident. In Harrow Bay, that walk begins at the far end of the harbor, where the concrete slipway gives way to a narrow dirt path that climbs steeply between gorse bushes and wind-bent hawthorn. Within ten minutes, you're high enough to look back and see the whole town arranged below you like a model village: the colored rooftops, the curve of the bay, the fishing boats tied up in neat rows.

The path runs for about five miles along the clifftops, ending at the old lighthouse on Harrow Head. It's not a difficult walk — there are a few steep sections and one stretch where the path narrows uncomfortably close to the edge — but it rewards anyone willing to take it slowly. The best time to go is early evening in late spring, when the light turns golden and the seabirds wheel overhead in noisy flocks.

What You'll See Along the Way

About a mile in, you'll pass the ruins of an old coastguard station. Only the foundation walls remain, half-swallowed by grass, but you can still make out the shape of the building and imagine what it must have been like to live out here in winter, watching for ships in distress. A little further on, there's a bench dedicated to a local woman named Margaret "Peggy" O'Donnell, who apparently walked this path every day for forty years. The plaque reads: "She knew every stone."

The middle section of the walk is the wildest. The cliffs drop sharply to a churning sea, and on windy days the spray reaches all the way up to the path. This is where you'll see the most wildlife: fulmars nesting on the ledges, cormorants drying their wings on the rocks below, and if you're lucky, a seal or two bobbing in the swell. Local birdwatchers say the spring migration brings species you won't see anywhere else along this coast.

As you approach the headland, the path widens and the ground flattens. The lighthouse comes into view — a squat, whitewashed tower that hasn't been manned since the 1980s but still operates automatically. The keeper's cottage beside it is privately owned now, and on summer evenings you can sometimes see lights in the windows and smell woodsmoke from the chimney. It's a strange, lovely feeling to stand at the edge of the headland, with nothing but ocean between you and the horizon, and know that someone is inside that cottage making tea.

Practical Notes for Walkers

Wear proper shoes — the path is uneven and can be muddy after rain. Bring water, because there's nowhere to buy anything once you leave town. And check the tide tables if you're tempted to descend to any of the small coves along the way; several of them become cut off at high water, and more than one visitor has had to be rescued by the local lifeboat after losing track of time.

The walk back to town takes about the same amount of time, though it feels shorter because you know what's coming. By the time you reach the harbor again, the pubs will be open and the smell of the day's catch will be drifting up from the quay. It's a good way to end a day — tired, salty, and certain that you've earned your dinner.