I’ll never forget the drive down to St Ives last September – that golden cusp of autumn when Cornwall’s coast starts whispering about cooler days ahead. We’d set off from Bristol full of beans, playlist pumping with some proper sea shanty vibes, but about halfway through, disaster struck: a rogue seagull decided our windscreen was its personal bombing range. Splattered and swearing under our breath (well, mostly me), we pulled over for a quick clean-up at a services, laughing it off as the first omen of our seaside adventure. By the time we wound our way along the cliff roads towards Carbis Bay, the late afternoon sun was dipping low, painting the sea in those hazy amber tones that only early autumn can muster.

Pulling up to the place, my heart did a little flip – you know that buzz when a holiday home exceeds the photos? This penthouse perched on the cliffs, with its fabulous seaward-facing private balcony and south-facing sun terrace, screamed perfection. And yeah, the name gives it away: those harbour views stretching out to St Ives, framed by a wall of windows in the open-plan living space. Ideal for just the two of us, it felt like our own romantic nook, sleeping snugly with the bay’s gentle hush outside.

First impressions? Magic. We cracked open a bottle of local Cornish rosé on the balcony as the sun set, watching the light fade over the water – September’s softer glow making everything feel intimate, not the blistering blaze of summer. No crowds jostling for space; just us, the cliffs, and that endless vista. It was like the season had conspired to give us Cornwall at its most poetic.

The next morning, we ambled down the short path to the beach, the air crisp with that autumnal tang of salt and seaweed. Porthkidney Sands was ours almost entirely – we paddled in water that still held a bit of summer warmth, but with enough chill to make you gasp and grin. Spotting seals bobbing offshore (a proper treat this time of year), we picnicked on pasties from a nearby bakery, the kind stuffed with proper chunks of beef and swede. Later, we joined the South West Coastal Path for a gentle cliff-top wander, bracken turning rusty underfoot, gorse still blooming defiantly yellow. The light was diffuse, perfect for photos that didn’t need filters – all moody blues and golds.

Evenings were pure bliss on the sun terrace, wrapped in blankets as the days shortened. We’d fire up the kitchen hob for a simple seafood linguine – prawns from St Ives harbour market, that morning’s catch – gazing at the twinkling lights of town across the bay. One night, we caught the scenic train from Carbis Bay station right to St Ives, just a few minutes of puffing along the sea, alighting for a mooch around the harbour. The Tate St Ives loomed dramatic in the gloaming, and we grabbed chips from the Porthmeor Beach kiosk, eating them hot and vinegary while the tide whispered in.

Looking back, that slight mishap on the drive was a gift – it made me pause and reflect on how we rush through life, missing these seasonal shifts. September wrapped St Ives in a quieter embrace, stripping away summer’s frenzy to reveal the raw beauty of the bay. No tan lines or sunburn, just soul-recharging views from our perch, the cliffs echoing with the sea’s autumn song. If you’re after Cornwall without the hordes, time it like this – you won’t regret it.