The John Griff Column: I must go down to the seas again…

Where do you think the picture accompanying this week’s column was taken? The South of France? The Caribbean? Perhaps the Gold Coast? It’s none of those places, fantastic and world famous though they are. Instead, the picture was taken last week whilst Lois and I were taking a few days off with the dogs. It was taken on a beach near Padstow, in Cornwall.

Notwithstanding the visible Northampton connection to the charter company (!), the Jubilee Queen took us on a bracing trip out of Padstow harbour and around notable local venues during a voyage of about ninety minutes. Sixty others were on board, many of them tourists from Britain. The remainder seemed to come from Asia and there was a definite air of bonhomie, with the possible exception of one lady (from North America I believe) who discovered that she had left her sea legs ashore and felt obliged to spend almost the entire trip stretched flat out on a row of seats adjacent to the ship’s bar. Maybe she’d had a heavy night the night before. Or a heavy breakfast.

Synonymous with the work and profile of chef Rick Stein who seems to own and provide a significant part of its gastronomic hospitality business, Padstow has a long and proud history of fishing and, as we were shown by our captain, smuggling. After anecdotes about defensive gun emplacements which can be seen from the water and an encounter with a number of seals which had hauled themselves out of the English Channel and onto Gulland Rock for a snooze in the sunshine, we were shown the impressive local lifeboat slipway before returning. Hugging the coast we were shown the various coves and caves within which a variety of nefarious exchequer-defying acts were perpetrated long ago. Enlightening, entertaining and more than a little drenching for those sitting near the bow as Jubilee Queen powered out into the oncoming waves, it was a great way to see the sights.

So why in the picture is she seen beached, her bow run onto the shore?

Simply, because by the end of our trip the tide had gone out. Returning, we did so at low water. Nosing gently onto the soft, clean sands, the Queen ended up positioned to allow those on board to step ashore. Enjoying a ten minute wander back to Padstow, we followed much the same routes as the smugglers might have done centuries before. In daylight we could take in the scenery and sights – the smugglers would have preferred the cover of darkness, laden down by their ill-gotten gains.

Arriving back in the town, I was struck by the commerciality of a place which has had to surrender itself to the economic realities of the 21st century. Gone is the fishing fleet, thinned now to just a handful of small boats. In its place is a different fleet comprising not only the Jubilee Queen, but a number of high performance, multi-engined machines offering white knuckle, white-water trips out to the sea via the River Camel estuary. Beyond the maritime activities, almost every outlet in the vicinity of Padstow Harbour is either an eatery (a number of them Rick Stein’s) or a watering hole of some kind. A number of designer shops exist a couple of streets back, as well as a variety of souvenir shops. Almost all of them offer buckets and lines with which day-trippers can try catching crabs around the harbour walls. Every Cormish coastal town does the same.

Padstow has pivoted, and in the right season and conditions, it makes money. It has to, because as Summer gives way to Autumn and Winter, the day-trippers will dwindle in number, the boat trips will reduce commensurately, and the quaint little town will become quieter. Money will be less in evidence and hospitality jobs will be shed in a similarly seasonal way. The crabs will rebuild their numbers and wait for the tourists to return, as will the traders.

There is a parallel here. Just as Northamptonshire’s boot and shoe reputation has diminished in favour of one founded on logistics, Padstow has gone from being a harbour town bringing in the fish (and celebrated by its global ambassador, Mr Stein), to one bringing in the tourists by trading extensively on its history. Northamptonshire needs to bring in the tourists and day-trippers too – not just the 44-tonners. There’s a lot on show celebrating what Padstow has to offer – why shouldn’t what works for our coastal cousins also work for us landlubbers?