Polwhenna Harbour: A Working Port Reinvented

Small fishing harbours have had a difficult half-century. As fleets shrank and catches were landed at a handful of large ports, many of the little quays that once lined the coast fell silent, their buildings converted into holiday flats or simply abandoned. Polwhenna was heading the same way until a partnership of fishermen, local businesses and the parish council drew up a plan to keep it working. Their central idea was simple: rather than replacing the fishing industry with tourism, they would use the money brought in by visitors to support the boats, repairing the quays, modernising essential equipment and keeping mooring charges low enough for young skippers to make a living. Fifteen years later, the harbour still lands fish every day, and the scheme is often cited as evidence that a port can welcome visitors without ceasing to be a place of work.

The harbour is built around the Harbour Basin, a roughly rectangular area of sheltered water enclosed by stone quays on three sides and open to Polwhenna Bay on the fourth, to the north. Most visitors arrive along Quay Street, which runs along the southern edge of the harbour, and leave their vehicles in the Car Park on its northern side. From there, the first building they encounter is the Fish Market, a long, open-sided shed in the middle of the south quay where the morning catch is auctioned to buyers from restaurants and wholesalers. The auction begins at six o'clock and is usually over within an hour, but the floor is kept open afterwards so that visitors can see the boxes of fish being graded and packed in ice.

Immediately to the east of the Fish Market is the harbour office, from which the movement of vessels is controlled, mooring fees are collected and weather warnings are issued. Its upper windows give a clear view across the basin to the harbour mouth, and a board outside lists the times of the tides. On the other side of the Fish Market, in the south-western corner of the harbour, stands the net loft, a two-storey stone building whose upper floor was originally used for drying and repairing fishing nets. It has been converted into workshops where a small number of craftspeople, including a rope maker and a boatbuilder, make and sell their goods.

The west quay is dominated by the work of the lifeboat crew. Halfway along it, the Slipway runs down into the basin, allowing boats to be launched at any state of the tide. North of the slipway, at the seaward end of the quay, is the lifeboat station, home to a volunteer crew who can be at sea within ten minutes of an alarm. Visitors are welcome to look around when the crew is not on call, and the station's small display recounts some of the most remarkable rescues in its hundred and forty years. Launches are announced by a siren, and spectators gather along the quay to watch the boat slide down into the water, a spectacle that has become one of the best-known sights on this stretch of coast.

The east quay serves the fishing fleet. Directly across the basin from the slipway is the ice plant, which produces the tons of flaked ice that boats take on before each trip to keep their catch fresh; its machinery hums continuously, day and night. South of it, at the corner where the east quay meets the south quay, is the chandlery, a shop selling everything from ropes and paint to waterproof clothing and spare engine parts. Although it was established to supply the fishermen, it now does a brisk trade with owners of pleasure boats too. At the very northern tip of the east quay, marking the entrance to the harbour, stands the lighthouse, a white-painted tower that has guided boats home since 1861.

Balancing the needs of fishermen and tourists has not always been easy. Visitors wander onto working areas of the quays, and the smell of fish and diesel does not appeal to everyone. The partnership has responded by marking safe walking routes and installing information boards, while resisting pressure to move the Fish Market elsewhere, on the grounds that a harbour without fish would soon lose the character that attracts people in the first place.

The approach appears to be working. Landings have stabilised, several young people have joined the fleet in recent years, and the harbour has become a popular destination without becoming a theme park.