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Holywell Bay

Holywell Bay, Cornwall’s Rugged Coastal Gem

Tucked away on Cornwall’s rugged north coast, Holywell Bay stretches out as a wide golden-sand beach, embraced by towering dunes and jagged cliffs. The scene is wild, beautiful, and utterly captivating. Behind the beach, the Penhale dunes rise high, among the largest in England, a haven for walkers.

Holywell Bay is home to two holy wells, both associated with Saint Cubert. Yet they could hardly be more different. One sits neatly along the pilgrim path in the middle of a golf course, framed in stone and marked with a cross at its entrance. The other is a natural limestone spring, hidden deep within a tidal cave along the coastline, from where the photo was taken.

The loss of Holywell Bay’s ancient sacred place

For centuries, Holywell’s St Cubert’s Cave was one of the most remarkable places along this stretch of the Cornish coast.

Hidden beneath the cliffs at Holywell Bay and accessible only around low tide, the cave contained a remarkable sequence of mineral-rich pools formed by water dripping slowly through the rock. Over generations, these deposits created the cave’s distinctive colours and terraced formations. The site is traditionally associated with St Cubert and connected with healing water and pilgrimage. The holy well was important enough to give its name to Holywell Bay itself. For generations, people came here not simply to admire the cave, but to encounter a place where water, landscape, belief and tradition had become inseparable.

But during the night of 29–30 August 2026, the landscape changed dramatically. A major section of the cliff collapsed in front of the cave, burying and completely sealing its entrance beneath a vast mass of fallen rock. Local reports suggest that heavy rain following a prolonged period of dry weather may have contributed to the collapse.

For those walking the Cornish Celtic Way, the loss is more than the disappearance of a spectacular landmark. Holywell Cave was a reminder that sacred places are not always churches, monuments or buildings. Sometimes they are simply landscapes. 

The cave may now be hidden beneath the fallen cliff. Whether the holy well itself has survived beneath the rocks remains uncertain. Yet the story of Holywell and the memory of the pilgrims, visitors and local people who found meaning there, remains part of the landscape. Perhaps that, too, is something a pilgrimage teaches us: nothing in the landscape is permanent. Even places that have endured for centuries can disappear before our eyes. And yet a sacred place is more than the stones from which it is made.