I’ll never forget the drive down to St Ives last autumn – the leaves turning that gorgeous coppery gold along the A30, but of course, I managed to hit a bit of a snag just past Bodmin. Some cheeky diversion sign sent me on a wild goose chase through narrow lanes clogged with tractors, turning what should’ve been a three-hour trip into four and a half. By the time I crested the hill into St Ives, the late afternoon sun was dipping low over the bay, painting everything in that magical, slanted light you only get in October. My heart lifted instantly – no traffic jams could spoil this.

Pulling up to our spot set above St Ives Bay at Belyars Croft Apartments, I was buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation. We’d booked this two-bedroom luxurious penthouse, and stepping inside, the first impressions were spot on: inspiring sea views from the living area and balcony, with the waves crashing below like a private soundtrack. It’s just a short walk from the beaches, town centre, harbour, and even the scenic railway – perfect for pottering about without the car. Autumn’s mellow vibe made it feel extra special; no summer crowds, just crisp air that sharpened every view.

The season really shaped our days. Mornings started with coffee on the balcony, watching surfers in wetsuits dot the bay under a hazy sun – St Ives Bay was alive but not heaving. We’d wander down to Porthmeor Beach, where the tide pools shimmered with that post-summer clarity, and the sand was cool underfoot. One day, we timed it for low tide and poked around the rock pools, spotting crabs scuttling in the seaweed – proper childhood throwback stuff, though I nearly slipped on the wet slate, laughing at my own clumsiness. Lunch was pasties from the harbour bakers, eaten on a bench overlooking the bobbing boats, with the scent of woodsmoke from beach fires mingling with the salty breeze. Autumn’s shorter days meant cosy early evenings, but that golden hour light turned the town into a watercolour painting.

We hopped on the St Ives Railway for a jaunt to Carbis Bay – the steam train chugging along the cliffs was pure nostalgia, leaves swirling in its wake. Evenings back at the penthouse were bliss: wrapping up on the balcony as the sun set fiery over the Atlantic, sipping mulled cider from the local shop. One night, a gentle mist rolled in, softening the lights of the town below – it made me pause for a quiet reflection. Here I was, mid-forties, still getting that childlike thrill from a seaside escape. Work stress melted away; autumn reminded me how recharging simple things like this can be.

A funny moment came on our last full day – we queued for cream teas at a harbourside café, but the seagulls were in full cheeky mode, dive-bombing for crumbs. One nicked my scone right off the plate! We laughed it off, strolling back as twilight fell, the bay glowing under a harvest moon. St Ives in autumn isn’t the blockbuster summer scene, but that’s its charm: quieter paths, vivid colours, and a deeper sense of place. If you’re after a holiday that feels like a warm hug from Cornwall, go now – before winter whispers in.