Gurnards Head, Cornwall, Small, Hotel, Food, Luxury

Sister to The Griffin at Felin Fach, the Inkin brothers have created another superb venue for eating, drinking and sleeping. Full of character and charm The Gurnards' is a truly authentic hostellry.

The owners are putting some good taste and careful affection into this hotel, with good reason. The extremities of North Cornwall are short on attractive bolt-holes, once you get past Rick Stein, and the Gurnards Head has to cater for fog and stark wilderness as well as sun-crazed beach-boys.

So the inn has been gutted. Spare sun has been plucked off the shelf and dragged inside to large, Tuscan-washed lounges with rug-strewn floors and walls hung about with decent art. The dining room is comfortably haphazard, cooking and service are excellent, and yet a pleasing atmosphere of dilettantism disguises the efficiency of this project. It’s clever.

They know what they’re doing and it’s different. The bedrooms are uncluttered, and their expensive mattresses are a luxurious invitation to limit the tantrums of the weather if you can’t be bothered to challenge the power of cliff, ocean or heath. Downstairs there is a correct wine list, the worst collection of books you could ever wish to hurl, and a long room of beer and cider. This is a good-value, benevolent hideout, cultivated but not rigid, suitable to wealthy jeunesse in pursuit of a native bargain, striding pioneers or sleepy-eyed narcoleptics. Take four days. In any weather.

Highly respected and distinguished author Richard Thornley bolted to The Gurnard's Head on our behalf.