Tintagel (Day 2)

 

Just before nine thirty last night as the sun drifted westwards the sky became a blaze of fiery red. Trails of magenta streaked through the gathering clouds. The only sound an opiniated crow sat on a nearby power line. Its harsh kraa call shattering the silence. 

First thing this morning three swallows sat on a nearby branch, unperturbed by the falling light rain. After the beautiful weather of yesterday we hoped the weather would be kind to us again today. 

Our German neighbours set off with walking poles and we followed behind also with walking poles as we knew the terrain around the cliffs was very uneven.

We stopped to buy pasties for lunch and then began the walk down the steep hill towards the castle. Admission to the castle ruins is twenty one pounds a person. Bargain, we didn't think.

We walked up above it along the coast path from where the views were fantastic.

Then we swapped to the other side taking the coast path which climbed high above the perilous seas towards the next cove. Last year Angela had fallen on this path, and felt a little sick when she saw how close to the edge she'd been.

Not perturbed we continued, finding shelter from the wind amongst some rocks heavily eroded by the elements. The views from our lunch stop were stunning, the coast running northwards into the far distance.

Below us we could hear the waves as they entered the caves creating the acoustics of a natural cathedral. Dazzled by the sunlight reflecting of the aquamarine waters we sat a while watching the rain clouds blow towards us, leaving just in time to avoid the worst of the weather.

Back at Marge, the sky now a seamless blue we read deciding to stay another night here. Our overnight stops of the last few nights have been a little touristy, but safe. Coffee shops and cafes dominated. Food and drink are what it's all about in these places. Pies and lattes. Did you say Pilates? No Marge, Pies and lattes!

Tintagel

Yesterday evening we took a look inside one of the bars inside Jamaica Inn where there was a large, beautiful original stone fireplace.

The whole building is dark and mysterious, even the more modern extension. Pricey though. A real tourist trap. 

This morning the grey skies of yesterday evening had given way to the brightness of a new day affording beautiful views across a patchwork of fields. We'd spent a peaceful night at the 'Inn on the Moor' not bothered by the traffic passing by on the nearby A30.

We'd deliberately planned to be in this area today as the forecast was for fine weather and we wanted to cycle along the Camel Trail from Wadebridge to Padstow. After Marge became stuck in a side street and having to turn around in a tight spot, we eventually found a space for her in a car park near the trail with many other vans. Lunch of French foresterie pate bought back from France with a very nice soft seeded baguette from Sainsbury's and some fruit packed in the rucksack we set off to the land of Rick Stein, known as Padstein, as after opening a seafood restaurant in 1975 he has gone on to open many other satellite businesses in the town.

The cycle along the estuary, mudflats totally exposed, was a nice easy ride. We were surprised at just how busy the town was.

Wanting to avoid the crowds we moved away from the main harbour to eat our lunch, then moving down towards the small ferry that crosses to Rock on the opposite side of the estuary to read a while before partaking of a very nice Kelly's ice cream. 

We'd originally planned to stay overnight in Wadebridge, but Angela didn't like the park up so we moved on to Tintagel being followed most of the way by a German van, which is here with us now. Marge is one of just four vans. We can't believe how quiet it is.

As we're parked on grass beside a farm in the countryside we decided to cook sausages bought from the Spar shop across the road, on our outside gas grill. Our neighbours looked on. Are they jealous? Who knows Marge, they might be outraged. The man was friendly, the woman had snubbed Angela. Rude. Yes, Marge, very. After a while they moved down to the bottom of the grass area, nearly driving over a stool the man had been sat on when we arrived.

How long would it take for them to notice they'd left it behind? Or should we do the right thing and take it over to them. Angela and Marge thought not. 

Today the weather has been beautiful and we enjoyed once again cycling the Camel Trail to Padstow. We are in no rush to return home and will probably spend another week away yet. Are you up for it Marge? If so, don't play up too much please.