Those of you watching the television series, Poldark, will appreciate the still wild landscape and hidden treasures scattered around the Cornish Coast. It was the favorite spot Sir John Betjeman, Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom from 1972 until his death in 1984. One of his favorite places in Cornwall was a tiny church that he wrote a poem about entitled “Sunday Afternoon Service in St. Enodoc Church.” He is buried in the churchyard. But this tiny, enigmatic gem of a church, sitting in the sand dunes above Daymer Bay, North Cornwall, practically disappeared off the map, a victim of nature’s relentless rhythms of change.

As you walk around the edge of the Camel Estuary over Brea Hill from the village of Rock, a minute church, seemingly stranded in the middle of the golf course, catches your eye. The crooked steeple stands out above the 10th hole, almost taunting the golfers to hit straight. Built on the site of a cave where the hermit, St. Enodoc is believed to have lived in the 6th century, the church is an ancient structure, parts of which date back to the 12th century, although most of it was probably built in the 1430s.

Weather shapes everything in Cornwall. Fierce Atlantic storms pound the beaches and cliffs; winds relentlessly shift and blow the towans (sand dunes), reshaping the landscape; and so it was with the little church. Over time, the sand piled up against the walls and the eastern gable, covering the door; wind-blown rain seeped in through the crevices around the old stones causing rot to set in; bats took up residence in the belfry and insects feasted on the furniture. The little church almost disappeared except for its chubby crooked spire. Its nickname locally was “Sinkininny church.”

According to ecclesiastical law, the vicar has to enter the church at least once a year for it to retain its status. Given that St. Enodoc was inaccessible because of the mountains of sand, the then vicar came up with an ingenious idea of cutting a hole in the north transept roof. Once a year he would shimmy down a rope to gain access and fulfill the legal requirements.

In the late 1800s, the Vicar of the Parish of St Minver (of which St. Enodoc is a part), Hart Smith Pearce, decided that the church needed renovation. Workmen carried away the sand; the rotting foundations were strengthened or rebuilt; the interior was cleaned and the furniture replaced; a wall was erected to fence in the church and its pocket-size graveyard to protect it as much as possible from the sands.  The churchyard was cleared to uncover the tombstones.

A visit to St. Enodoc church can be a truly mystical experience. As you walk along the coastal path from Rock, a magnificent vista opens up before you. At your feet are the Camel Estuary and Daymer Bay, filled with sailboats and windsurfers; across the waters, the town of Padstow and, at the end of the cliffs, Stepper Point. In the distance, at the mouth of the bay, you can almost make out the shape of a sandbar — the so-called Doom Bar — where many a ship has met its fate. On your right, Brea hill overshadows the water below.

As you walk through the sand dunes, carefully following the whitewashed rocks that mark the path, you will catch a glimpse of the stubby, crooked steeple and the walls of the church, isolated on the golf course. Enter the grounds through the Lych Gate (Lych is the Old English word for ‘corpse’) along the path, flanked by stone bowls, believed to have been found among the remains of a village abandoned sometime in the past.

Immediately to the right of the Lych Gate is the slate headstone marking the tomb of Poet Laureate, John Betjeman, buried here in 1984. Other tombstones are of ‘unknown sailors’ whose ships met their fate on the Doom Bar or local inhabitants. The interior of the church seats only about 40 people. There are remnants of ancient times scattered here and there, such as the Norman font, found buried in the sand during restoration. The single bell in the crooked tower comes from the ship “The Immacolata’ of Barlotta, Italy, wrecked off the coast near Daymer Bay.

Fifteen centuries after it was first linked to St. Enodoc, the tiny church which bears his name and which has been immortalized in the poetry of John Betjeman, stands proudly in the sand dunes, the victor in its battles against the relentless attacks of nature.

IF YOU GO
St. Enodoc church stands within St Enodoc Golf Course in Trebetherick, a village on the north coast of Cornwall, 6 miles north of Wadebridge and about a mile from Rock. It is across from Padstow on the Camel Estuary. If you park in Rock, near the Padstow ferry, you can follow the path around Brea hill to a trail through the sand dunes. You will skirt the 10th hole of the golf course as you reach the church. Duck if you hear anyone shout “fore!”

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