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. 

Jamaica Inn, Bolventor

Last night's stop at the Britannia Inn was perfect for us. This morning we took a shower as we could refill Marge's water tank and empty our waste water. John lent a very young couple our hosepipe to fill their van with water. The girl was local, from Plymouth, living in the van full time. She said the trouble with driving in the area was there were just too many vans clogging up the roads whilst on holiday. Well one of those people has just helped you out you ungrateful little. O.K. Marge.  The grass the vans had all parked on had been freshly cut so we needed to give Marge a good brush out before leaving. The lady in a very nice Land Rover conversion near us was giving her sheepskin rug a good clean. If there's one thing you don't want it's your rug full of grass! It'll knit right into it. Aware the weather would change mid-afternoon we left by late morning heading to Bodmin Moor to the Golitha Falls.

Our journey meant taking the fast A30 across the moor. Marge did her best really going for it. The parking at the falls was a nightmare, and we had to wait a while for a space long enough to park the van in without it being in danger of someone running into it. Just when we could have shoehorned Marge into a more suitable space she decided to immobilise, big time. Thanks for that Marge, you're such an embarrassment. Now we've lost the spot to some little old sports car! Eventually, John coaxed her into firing up and we moved.

The paths to the falls were not well marked. We opted for one we thought would be fairly easy soon finding ourselves above the tumbling waters of the river Fowey. As older irresponsible people do, we climbed down onto the rocks beside it to eat our lunch. The power of the water roaring in our ears as it bounced from rock to rock. Right which way now? You guessed it, the wrong way. Our walking boots slipped on stones and got caught in tree roots as we criss-crossed the steep incline. Angela held on to John for fear of falling, forgetting if she did, they both would. A decision had to be made about our way back to the main path. We needed to climb further up. Below us the churning bubbling water gave us purpose. Eventually we found one of the main paths which wound its way through towering beech trees. Mounds of moss, smooth as green baize pushed up between a carpet of bluebells in their last throws of flowering. Back at Marge, we could hear her saying, here they are, bloody fools!

Our guide book recommended we also visit the Hurler's stone circles; a group of standing stones arranged in three circles. The site was surrounded by disused tin mines from a bygone age. We didn't really get the meaning of the stones as there were no information boards, so drove back towards Bolventor stopping at the side of the road to view Doniert's stone, erected in the 9^th century to commemorate the last known king of Cornwall, King Dumgarth. 

The rain now falling steadily we drove over the moor, beautifully manicured by the grazing sheep, cattle and horses to tonights stop. Cornwall's most famous smugglers inn, Jamaica Inn. 

The 18^th century coaching inn was immortalised in Daphne du Maurier's novel of the same name. The views from Marge tonight are beautiful, but the wet weather is relentless, which explains why the house opposite is totally weatherproofed in slate.

Tomorrow we will drive to Wadebridge to cycle along the camel trail to Padstow. Let's hope the forecast sunshine arrives.

Par

Marge always draws a crowd, and yesterday evening John proudly showed her off. Men being men, all our fellow van owners were keen for everyone to see inside their van. We all had the 'slam and bang' type, with sliding side doors. We were the only ones who did not live in ours.

There were four vans in total and John thought a good book would be a story about the four of us, where we went on to travel to and whether any of us met up again. In the U.K. chances were we might see each other up in Scotland later in the year.

 Around ten thirty, the tide beating a hasty retreat, our Polish neighbours lit a barbecue on the beach. As you do. They managed to convince a young couple from one of the other vans to join them, and yes they were noisy until the early hours. 

This morning Angela was very, very tired. She is a light sleeper and last nights shenanigans kept her awake so she was well grumpy. Nearby in a lively sea the heads of five male swimmers resembling five plastic footballs bobbed. Conscious not to irritate the locals we were all away by nine thirty, except our Polish friends. It's important not to outstay your welcome when staying overnight as change happens resulting in No Overnight signs going up. First stop Morrisons at Plymton. Angela was administered with a large hot chocolate to boost her sugar levels and mood before we stocked up on essentials including some very nice salad from the salad bar. Our YouTube neighbour Ben from last night appeared having left very early this morning to sort out his problem tyre. He was enroute back to Newton Abbot to buy a rim and tyre from someone on Facebook. It's not just us that has van problems then?

Our lunch stop was the 18^th century open harbour of Charlestown. The rain fell relentlessly and we sat in Marge eating lunch trying to convince ourselves the weather was an improving picture. Have faith Marge. We sat it out and donning waterproofs walked out as the rain eased. The sun broke through and we sweltered in our outdoor gear. English weather, you just have to go with it. 

Tonight we are staying at the pub. The Britannia Inn at Par near to St. Austell. They have a free camping field at the rear with toilets and drinking water. All they ask is you spend money at the bar, so we enjoyed a couple of drinks before returning to Marge for our evening meal. There are vans here from Belgium, Austria and Holland. Our neighbours, two sisters are in the area to attend a music festival at the Eden Project. One of them had recently returned from a trip around the coast of Ireland something we have planned to do so it was interesting to talk to her. 

Today we crossed the Tamar bridge into Cornwall. A sign at the entrance to a layby read, No Pasties Left in this Layby Overnight'. That's as maybe, but is overnight parking allowed? Tomorrow we will head north towards Bodmin Moor, hopefully the drive will be a little less demanding for Marge than that of the last few days. Hang in their Marge you're doing a fine job, just stop immobilising yourself please, we promise to invest in a new ignition key for you when we return home, hopefully that will cure your ills.