Great Torrington (Day 2)

This morning the church bells peeled for half an hour. The sound of them reminded us of many places we've stayed in France. Despite a quiet night, we decided to move Marge to a space at the top of the carpark nearer to the parked cars where she wouldn't be so isolated when we left her to go cycling. Also, because a group of youngsters in cars and on motorbikes arrived near us around ten o' clock last night. Not that they were any problem, just meeting up to chat, leaving around eleven.

 Enjoy the view, Marge. The fields below looked stunning. To the right the two leper strips visible, remnants of seven strip fields from the medieval period. One hundred and fifty years ago in the nearby village of Taddiport there was a leprosy hospital. 

Brompton's at the ready we walked down the path behind the car park, stopping to speak with a lady who informed us it was her eighty first birthday today. We asked if she knew the route down to the Tarka Trail. After some thought she pointed us in the right direction down a steep path towards the river. Soon we had to stop. John's front tyre was flat. Our cycling trip looked in jeopardy of not going ahead. After twice trying to repair the inner tube with patches well past their sell by date success was achieved. We decided to press on to Bideford rather than Barnstaple just in case the repair didn't hold out. 

Following the instructions given we cycled through the derelict site of the old Dairy Crest creamery awaiting development after thirty years of closure, then along a rutted track to the Puffing Billy cafe where there was no sign to tell us which direction we needed to go for Bideford.

Asking some local cyclists, we were soon on our way enjoying cycling off road over a tarmacked surface up and down gradients, through tunnels and over bridges following alongside the river Torridge. Due to our false starts it took us two and a half hours to reach Bideford.

We lunched by the river watching a man paint an ancient and very rusty tug boat. We wondered if he would ever finish this project the task seemed monumental. Nearby we could hear the dulcet tones of a brass band trumpeting, drumming and oompahing popular tunes. We listened a while whilst we ate ice cream. John couldn't bear the sight of the weeds growing in the adjacent Diana Memorial Rose Garden and set to pulling some of them up.

Across the road a beautiful floral display in celebration of the queen's platinum jubilee caught our eye.

Bideford a thriving port in the fifteenth century exporting pottery to Europe and America. The ships returning with tobacco and salt cod is described as one of the prettiest and distinctive towns in north Devon. 

Just before five we returned to Marge having stopped on the return ride to pick wild garlic from the side of the cycleway. We took a different route back into the town walking with our bicycles up a very steep road that seemed to go on for ever. Whilst we have found Devon to be very pretty and scenic, we are starting to hate the hills. Aren't we Marge? Hear you had a bike malfunction today. It's not just me that causes your ills then? No Marge. Tomorrow we're off to Ilfracombe, don't be getting any ideas about playing up please.

Great Torrington

Yesterday afternoon Angela noticed a lady walking her dogs appear from a path behind the public toilets. Thinking the area looked like good hunting ground for fungi she suggested her and John take a walk that way.

Sadly, the fungi were in short supply and John only spotted one on the back of a tree in the lane by the old rectory.

The evening sky was clear, so just before nine thirty we walked down to the castle hoping to catch the sunset.

The ticket office for the castle was closed so we walked into the courtyard area for a sneaky peek. We needed to gain height to see the sunset so climbed high up onto the coast path.

We were too late to see the actual sun setting. All that messing around down at the castle had caused us to miss it. A couple who'd seen it shared their photographs with us. Never mind, we've seen some beautiful sunsets on our travels and know we have many more yet to see.

Only five vans including Marge last night. Our new neighbours had a teenage daughter. What's she wearing? They're a bit short. Very hot, hot pants Marge.

This morning we awoke to notification that two comments had been left on our blog. One from Ben ( Youtuber - Bejam) who we'd helped out a North Sands and another from the couple we'd met last night up on the coast path. So, it appears comments can now be left after a technical issue. So, feel free folks. Comment away. 

It was lunchtime before we left Tintagel walking down to Pengenna Pasties to buy our lunch. Not long after we left Marge decided to have a right strop going into safe mode, and then illuminating a warning light that caused concern so we stopped. Honestly Marge, you're bad for Angela's heart. All this stress. We restarted her and the light had gone out. Look my engine management lights not illuminated either. Well thank god Marge!

Bude was our chosen lunch stop. This is where we spent our honeymoon twenty-three years ago. The town was busy. We parked Marge with some other vans, paid for an hour's parking and took a walk around. Bude is no longer motorhome or campervan friendly because someone was living in a van by the canal. There were signs up everywhere saying basically you're not welcome! You're banned between eleven at night and nine in the morning. Incredible! We wondered how the traders in the town felt about it. The car parks are nearly empty at night, why not charge a small fee like they do in some of the other towns. Angela is so infuriated by it she's going to email the chief executive of the local council.

More driving on to Bideford. Fortunately, Marge created no more worries for us but Bideford did. We were expecting there to be lots of vans there, but there wasn't. The area didn't feel comfortable. We deliberated for some time about staying and after much too long decided to leave. The next stop was no good. No Campervans Overnight! Why? So, we drove inland to Great Torrington where we knew we could stay for eight pounds. 

Great Torrington is a pretty unpretentious town. It reminded us of France as do the far-reaching views across the open countryside behind Marge. Stunning. Angela is a believer that some things happen for a reason. Bideford's loss is Great Torrington's gain, especially Yau's House Chine take-away. What a lovely meal.

Tomorrow, we hope to cycle a section of the Tarka Trail. We will probably stay at Great Torrington a second night, our eight-pound overnight charge covers us until Monday evening as the parking is free on Sundays. Result Marge.

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.