Adam Sharpe, senior archaeologist, Cornwall County Council:
Despite occupying a strip of coastline barely 7.5km long and 2km deep, the St. Just Mining District is widely acknowledged as the most iconic of Cornwall’s industrial landscapes.

Mines have always been dangerous places of work, to which the public are denied access for their own safety. The men who work them are special, a closed elite of comrades, and they know it. Only they have the skills and daring needed to enter their dark shafts; swallowed up by the dark earth, they must tear the elusive, glittering ore from its rocky heart with their bare hands. Crushed and blasted, some never returned; too many came back to the light as terrifyingly mangled half-men. All of Cornwall’s mines knew these dangers, and yet in St. Just, the sea added something more. In mine after mine across the district men tried to shut out the rumbling of storm-rolled boulders on the sea bed not far above, or the salt taste of seawater dripping and splashing from clefts and cracks, harbingers of a terrifying fate – to drown in places far from light and family.

To continue to work such places knowing sudden death was always close at hand is to us inconceivable, incomprehensible, yet to suggest that economics alone drove miners to tunnel a mile and a half out under the seabed and over two thousand feet down to work the tin is to diminish their achievement and to miss what made St. Justers a breed apart. These were men whose forefathers had more than once lowered massive iron castings down Crowns Cliff using nothing more than ropes and timber, miners who daily drilled and blasted lodes so narrow they had to work single handed, men whose daily survival depended not only on their own strength and skill, but that of their comrades. It produced a close-knit and distinctive society which persists to this day.

The St Just landscape was created through the collective struggle of generation upon generation of miners and their families. Given the hardships involved, the early deaths, the deprivation, these should be painful, ugly places, but they are not. Carpets of spring flowers and Atlantic sunsets have, it is true, mellowed them, but what continues to draw us all to these sites on the edge is what they tell us of what we can achieve, against all the odds.

Extracts from Visitor Books
“Wild garlic, bluebells, violets, sea pinks….. A wonderful week spent in this magical part of the country. Our children loved the wide open spaces and the beaches. We’re taking some wonderful memories home with us.” (stayed in April)

“A few days break was just enough to get a taste of the magnificent coastal scenery – take the coast road to St. Ives to see what we mean! A fantastic mix of weather – sunshine and Atlantic gales, but always the comfortable and warm cottage to return to. No-one wants to head back to London” (stayed in March)

“What a great way to spend half term week, 428 miles from home away from e-mail, mobile phones and traffic. Fantastic! As was the cottage and the area, both met all our expectations”. (stayed in October)

“Always sad to leave this area but even more so at this time of year. Have walked for miles and miles and will need more new boots for next Christmas”. (stayed at Christmas)

“I can’t say enough about the beautiful, tranquil location. Nice to sit on the bench in the morning with a coffee with nothing but the sound of the birds to listen to”

“Well, after enduring the storms of autumn 2004, we came back in early spring to see Cornwall in the sunshine – and we did! Beautiful weather and beautiful scenery. Had a great week and we’ll be taking back many memories with us” (stayed in May)

“I bet it’s glorious in July/August but it’s nice to have Cornwall to yourself in Feb/March”

“Who needs the Med when Porthcurno is this idyllic? The beaches are better than Hawaii any day and there's nothing in the sea to bite you!"