St. Michael's Mount
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St. Michaels' Mount wasn't always just a quiet tourist destination. In the 18th and 19th centuries, the harbor at the base was a bustling port. At its peak, the village on the island had over 300 residents, three pubs, and a school. It was a key hub for exporting Cornish tin and importing goods from across the channel.The Mount has been a site of religious significance for over a thousand years.
Because of its strategic "island-fortress" nature, it was a highly contested prize during English conflicts: The Wars of the Roses: In 1473, the Mount was besieged for six months. It was the last stronghold in Cornwall to hold out against King Edward IV. The Civil War: A Royalist stronghold, when it finally fell to the Parliamentarians in 1646, the St Aubyn family took over the mount. Remarkably, their descendants still live in the castle today (under the care of the National Trust). If the tide's in, you'll want to take a ferry; otherwise, there's a small window where you can walk the causeway to the castle. To get to the ferry, simply follow the stone path toward the big rock formation and you'll come out right here. 
The tide schedules are easy to find, so we knew that by the time we were finished, we'd be able to walk back on the really cool stone causeway. Once at the top we could see the path start to appear. By the time we'd finishing poking around the island for a few hours, the tide was completely out, following that ebb and flow thing that seems to run life.
You reach the castle via old steep historic cobbled steps that are pleasantly worn and crumbling. Did I mention steep? No wheelchairs or crutches need apply. No whining allowed. This is history dammit, and if it takes a year off your heart and knees, so be it. We join the countless before us to make the pilgrimage to the top—our cause less for religious purposes, more hellbent on pleasure seeking.
The story goes that eons ago there was a nasty giant that wreaked havoc on the unsuspecting souls in the area, and that a boy named Jack did away with this giant by trapping him in this well. I for one am having a hard time believing this because it sounds suspiciously like another Jack/Giant tale.
Bob trudging up medieval pathways with backpack of water, raincoats, a thermos of tea, and fresh scones. Just the essentials, you know.
I'm assuming this is a shortcut we pilgrims are not allowed to use.
Still not the top.
Every single stone placed by hand.
More trudging up steep historic cobbled steps—also placed by hand.
The landing just below the front door. Last chance to shoot at marauding bands of outlaws before wiping your feet and presenting your bottle of wine.
Stone handrail, as per OSHA.
By the time we reach the top, the tide has mostly gone out and we can start to see the causeway.
Finally, the front door.
When the tide's out you can walk the causeway.
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