Garland,
On your bad advice I went and played West Cornwall last week. Possibly the worst routed golf course I have ever encountered in my life, golf architecture malpractice if ever there was. Anyone playing there risks a ball in the skull on half the holes, truly a frightening place.
Newquay, on the other hand, I thought was terrific. We teed off at nearly 5:00 pm to the absolute astonishment of the thirty people in the clubhouse bar well into their drink, and to the confused bartendress thrust into the apparently unfamiliar role of collecting our greens fees, who couldn't imagine starting a round so late. She reverse bargained us down to 22bp each for the round, managed to find a couple scorecards, and when my pal asked for a pencil she rummaged through some drawer and produced for us two seven inch long orange pencils. Should probably last the rest of my life for score keeping. More on her later.
The course is short on the card, but I didn't find it played so much that way. 6,141 from the back tees, but par 69. Highlights for me were the 4th, a 400 yard hole straight uphill, the 5th, which must have a 200 ft drop from tee to green, straight at Fistral Beach, 7-9 were all solid holes, and from 13 on in I thought the course was great. There are ocean views from every single hole, pretty sure this is the first course I've played where I can say that. The greens are slow, and the conditions were just a bit rough, but the hole designs were really quite good. The bunkering was fun and relevant, some blind shots here and there, but really a fun ride. We played 18 in about 2 hours and 20 minutes, a pace I enjoy. If this had been a four plus hour round, maybe I'd think differently, but I'd go again in a second. We played St. Enodoc the next day, and one of the members we met there described Newquay in the dry scornful tone only available in the UK as "a bit of a holiday course." True enough, but I enjoyed the round.
Anyway, two of our group who decided not to play were walking along the coastal path and found us on the 8th fairway just before the ranger came by to check that we had payed. He wanted to be sure that our pals weren't harassing us, which of course they were. These two were wandering around Newquay trying to find somewhere to buy a bag of ice. Bank Holiday and all had the stores all closed up, so they head into the club bar where they encounter the same goofy bartendress, who immediately connects them with the only other Americans she had seen that day. Great laughter ensues until they somehow convince her that finding a bag of ice is a matter of life and death, and she proceeds to fill about ten pounds into a plastic bag for them to lug home. She still hadn't gotten over that we started playing golf at 5:00 pm when the rest of the club was happily rollicking in the bar.
I wouldn't fly to the UK to play Newquay, but with this course literally at our doorstep, it was one that was hard to pass up. Glad I played it.