The Trip to Cornwall

Although I could go on for hours about all the wonderful things I saw, I will try to make this a brief description of the trip I made to Cornwall. I flew to Bristol on the Friday evening and spent the rest of the night at the airport. It didn't seem worth taking a hotel room for just a few hours as I had to be at the station at 05:45 to pick up my tickets from the machine before getting the train at half six. (Yes, 45 minutes may seem a bit exaggerated but there was the chance there would be problems retrieving the tickets and I also had to buy the Ride Cornwall ticket from the ticket office.) In the event the plane was an hour late so I was glad I hadn't booked the hotel. I had breakfast at the airport and then took the bus to Temple Meads station


which is beautiful. Brunel, of course.



Having got all my tickets, I headed for the train.



I watched the sun come up over the hills as we travelled south through Somerset, heading for Devon.



This was the kind of countryside I saw most of the way; green fields, cows, sheep, horses wearing jackets ...

At Dawlish the railway line runs along right beside the sea, which is lovely, at least for the people in the train!

At Plymouth, the spectacular Tamar bridge brings you over the river and out of Devon into Cornwall.

Finally, after passing through lots of lovely countryside (which I have pictures of, of course!) I arrived in Penzance at about half past eleven. I had time to wander around the town for a while, buy a Cornish pasty (totally delicious), pop into Tesco and Poundland, buy a reflecting collar for the cat and a drink for the next stage of the trip, all that before heading for the bus station for the bus that was to take me from Penzance through Sennen Cove, St. Buryan, Porthcurno, Land's End, St. Just, Morvar, St. Ives, St. Erth and Marazion, where I was to meet up with Mike.

I hadn't realised, but the bus that was to take me on this tour of the 'toe of the boot' was an open-topped double-decker. With mauve seats. So here we are, starting off up the main street of Penzance. The pavement was about a metre higher than the road, so there are little sets of stone steps at intervals so that you can get down to cross or whatever.

The little towns we passed through were lovely, all of them. Old, picturesque, beautifully kept and most of them decorated with colourful flowers in baskets hanging from lamp-posts, balconies, everywhere as well as growing in flower beds, of course.

A lot of the time it was like a roller coaster ride, quite terrifying, in point of fact. Here we are diving down to the lifeboat station. It's amazing how they take these buses roaring down horribly steep hills, whizzing round very tight corners, crawling back up the hills again, in and out of the villages, and all without mishap.

Long stretches of the coastline were like this; clean, almost empty beaches backed by fields or moorland dotted with little white houses with slate roofs.

It did get very cold up on top of that bus, up on the moors, going at quite a lick, the wind off the sea ... Hurray for the jacket, which made its first appearance here.

Looking up to a high point on the moors,

or looking across the moors to the fields lower down, that's Cornwall and it's lovely.

Of course another problem with the bus was when we met other cars. Some drivers made a bit of a business of getting past.

Fields, houses, churches and chapels (lots of them), the sea ...

houses high up on the moors,

farms with fields of cows down by the sea,

the road winding on and on across the moors,

pretty little houses in the villages,

I loved it all. And St. Ives harbour is postcard-pretty. Hard to believe these places really exist, still just as they were. What a great conservation job.

St. Ives beach is good, too, and not at all crowded, which makes it all the more attractive. (Even standing up it was difficult not to get other people's heads in the picture. It's good hair, though.)

This is St. Michaels's Mount as seen from Marazion. I had hoped to be able to walk across but the tide was in and it's only possible at low tide.
I met up with Mike in Marazion. He was in a shop buying himself some shorts. He had expected the weather to be colder and was dressed accordingly, so had got so incredibly hot walking from Penzance to Marazion that he had stripped off and gone in for a swim in his underpants! The shorts were very good, very boy-scout-like with lots of pockets.

Having bought the shorts and been down to look hopefully at the causeway leading to St. Michael's Mount and try the water, it was time to get the bus to Helston.

On the way we passed through Porthleven, which like many of the ports on this coast has an inner harbour with good thick strong wooden doors which can be closed to keep the water in at low tide as well as to give extra protection in a storm.

As the tide was in, the doors were open.

At Helston we had the choice of spending some time there and going down to the Lizard later or just having a quick look round before taking the next bus to the Lizard. We wanted to have a cream tea and as it was tea time, Helston seemed like a good place to have one.

But no. There were no signs offering cream teas and when we asked where we might find somewhere serving them, we were met with gloomy hopeless faces saying, "Oh, no. They won't still be serving cream teas at this time in the evening." Half past four! If that's not tea time, what is? We were determined, though, and went from place to place asking until we were finally sent down to the 'boating lake' where they thought we might get one. Again no luck. They weren't serving any more cream teas, but we thought we might get something else to eat, not having had much all day. However, they were about to close (well, it was nearly six o'clock!), so no joy.

There was a very good pub with a beer garden which was beckoning to Mike very attractively, but in the end the bus to the Lizard was pulling up to the stop just as we came back up the hill, so we decided to take it although we missed out on the pub and its Cornish ale.

The Lizard was another matter altogether. We shared a delicious cream tea sitting on the green. From there we went to the fish & chip shop to get our supper, since the hostel was only self-catering. We passed this rather good horse as we set off for the coast path.

There had been an exchange of views about the coast path walk. I felt that it was getting late, as in dark, and that it wasn't a good idea to be setting out for a long walk along the top of a cliff with the sun going down, but Mike was keen to do the original walk that would take about an hour and a half. I was keen to do the walk, I just wasn't keen on falling over the cliff in the dark. Mike felt there would still be enough light to get us there, I felt there wouldn't.

But in the end it all went well. It really is a lovely walk and the setting sun made it all the more enjoyable. (Note the trusty Trip Schedule book, containing everything from boarding cards, bus timetables, useful phone numbers, maps ... It had it all. And the Trip Diary at the back.)

The gulls were heading home to roost, the colours in the sky and the sea were amazing, the silence, the breeze, the call of the birds ... I wouldn't have missed it for anything.

To find our way, we just had to follow the path and keep heading for the lighthouse.

There were some bits you wouldn't want to fall down, like these mysterious steps

which seemed to lead down to the old lifeboat house way down below. They seem to be working on it to turn it into something else (a house?) but it was odd that it was all lighted up.

We just continued to make our way towards the lighthouse and the hostel, by the light of the moon.
Eventually we arrived and after a little difficulty about getting in (we couldn't find the door and the people inside didn't seem to care that we were appearing at one window after another with increasingly anxious faces.) we were finally given our rooms.

Since it was an old house, the door to my room was tucked in under the roof.

Presumably that was why my bed was on the floor. It was perfectly comfortable, though, warm and cozy. Mind you, I could have slept almost anywhere by then, not really having slept at all the night before. But sleeping by the window with the sea breeze on my face while tucked snugly under my duvet meant that not even the fairly loud snoring of one of my room-mates could keep me awake.
But before I could enjoy the comfortable bed, it had to be made up and everyone else was already in theirs and the lights were out. So very carefully, with as little rustling as possible, mostly by feel with the occasional help of the light from my mobile, I put on the bottom sheet, the two pillow cases and the rather complicated duvet cover. Mike took the sensible solution and took his duvet and pillows out into the corridor where he could see. Wish I'd thought of that.
Then into bed. Hurray!

Next morning I got up early because I wanted to see the sun coming up out of the sea on the other side of the lighthouse.

Mike had some very good binoculars and we had looked at the lamp and the lens mechanism the night before, but of course in the daytime it just keeps turning around anyway. I managed to get quite a good video of it.

So I headed out around the eastern side of the Lizard Head to see the sun come up and to explore.

There were hawks flying around, maybe hoping to catch one of the rabbits which were out in great numbers.

A sign like this is just daring you to continue and I had read about the Chasm of the Lion's Den so, crumbling or not, I went down (cautiously, of course) to have a look.

Down you go, towards the sea, until you get to bits that have indeed crumbled away.

The coastline is dramatic; rugged, rocky, perilous, a graveyard for so many ships.

The day looked threatening, and with that rocky shoreline, it was easy to understand how so many had come to grief there.

Since the tide was out the rocks were uncovered; at high water they would be lurking under the surface but stretching a long way out to sea hidden just under the water.
Well, eventually I had to go back, get showered and ready for another day of travelling around.

There was a small but stupid glitch here. We had decided to take a taxi to Falmouth as it was the only way of fitting St. Mawes into the itinerary, what with being Sunday and having to be in Liskeard at mid-day. Falmouth is not that far away but there was no direct bus. Well, having set off in our taxi, ordered the night before, I realised that my glasses were missing. Mike wanted us to turn back but I had no idea where I had left them or whether they were at the hostel or somewhere else. But after a time I realised they must have been in my shirt pocket, but even so, I had checked carefully all around my bunk to make sure I hadn't left anything. However, kind Mike insisted on turning back, though the taxi driver was displeased as although he was going to charge us extra, of course (we had agreed the price beforehand) he had another customer right after us. But we tore back to the hostel, rushed inside, I looked all around my bunk and found nothing, but just as I was about to go back downstairs I remembered that while packing I had slung the shirt over the end of the top bunk. And there they were! Hurray! Back to the taxi, back on the road to Falmouth, mental note not to put glasses in shirt pocket any more.

So we arrived in Falmouth harbour, early on a Sunday morning. It was quiet, with few people about.

We had a very good breakfast on the quay while we waited for the ferry. (Note the little bucket for rubbish so it doesn't blow away, and the stone with the order number painted on it.)

Then we boarded the ferry for St. Mawes. (I've only just noticed, doing this blog entry, that Mike and I share a similar excellent taste in shirts.)

The ferry is quite new (not the old Gerrans) but built in Falmouth according to the traditional methods, all out of wood.

It was a smooth ride, no labouring smelly engine, though there was a bit of a sea out in the Carrick Roads. We saw and remembered the buoys we used to race around, though we couldn't name them all. Black Rock, yes.

We passed St. Mawes castle, where we'd spent so many happy hours, there and on the beach below. I have pictures of the dogs on that beach.

And there we were, rounding the end of the harbour with the Idle Rocks, the Rising Sun and the annex opening up on the other side. There is the ledge where I also have pictures of the dogs lying in the sun, on towels because the stones got very hot.

There were quite a lot of boats out, obviously racing. It was a lovely day for sailing, not too much sea but plenty of breeze. They were heeling over nicely, close hauled. We were very envious. We didn't see any one-designs taking part, although there were lots from a similar class.

Having wandered around a bit and bought some postcards, we went to the Rising Sun for a beer. They have completely re-modelled the inside and there is a lounge, I think, where the bar used to be, the bar is on the other side, the dining room is at the front where the lounge used to be, where Father would have a bit of a snooze after lunch sometimes. We wrote the postcards while we drank our beer out on the terrace.

This could have been us, having come back to the hotel for lunch rather than taking one of those excellent picnics. Wish it had been.

We also took pictures of the water than runs out of gratings in the bottom of the wall at low tide. Mother always said it was sewage, but we didn't care and spent many happy hours building dams and channels. And I took an 'updated' picture of Mike building a sandcastle on the beach below the annex. He looks much the same.

Then we posted the postcards

on the way back to the ferry. We would have liked to take the bus to Truro, up the other side of the estuary, but it wouldn't have got us there in time.

We took pictures of Tim's lamp post, as well, which is still there though painted red and with some kind of extension rather haphazardly added to the top. It didn't seem all that high but would still be difficult to climb, I reckon.

Then back to Falmouth, past the castle again.

The Working Boats were racing out of Falmouth. There were lots of them out and we continued to see them all the time we were in Falmouth, from each of the little alleyways leading back to the harbour. We also finally saw one-designs, moored in Falmouth harbour.

Falmouth is quite a mix of old and new. Mike told me there is a very good art college there now. It has certainly revitalised the town.

Though there are still plenty of pretty old buildings. In fact, Falmouth is a lovely town. I had either forgotten that or never really noticed. It was a pleasant surprise.

Well, we walked up to the station, )then took the train back down to the docks and back up again!) and off we went to Truro (where we didn't have time to look around) and on to Liskeard.

And there was our train, waiting to take us down to Looe and back. It was to be diesel one way and steam the other, both vintage along with the carriages. This is the diesel.

And here is the steam train. How exciting it was!

We watched them re-filling the water tanks,

and oiling the brakes and lots of the other moving parts.

The cab was fascinating; I'd never seen one close up like that before.

The coal, ready to go in.

The fire, good and hot. (Yes, I am in the cab now, ready to drive. Don't know why nobody else seemed to be getting in.)

The driver, who explained to me how it all worked.

The Guard's Van. Don't they have those any more? Why not?

And here we are, just about to set off.

It was a wonderful ride, running along beside the river most of the way down to Looe. There were loads of people out, not just on the train but crowded onto every bridge, every stretch of the road that ran close to the line, standing in the fields, even in boats. And everyone with their camera ready, waving to the train as it passed, just like in the good old days.
The carriages were supposed to be vintage as well, but I remembered them perfectly. I am now vintage too. They had the two metal plates that slide around on the floor of the bungey bit between two carriages, where it was such fun to stand. The windows had notices over them saying "Open to here for draught-free ventilation. Do not lean out." But the doors had windows that dropped right down and everyone did lean out. After all, how else could you video the train?

There was a snack bar on the train doing tea, coffee and things like Tizer (though no curled-up sandwiches, which was a disappointment.) And the wheels made the proper bumpety-bump noise. It was all perfect.

We went down, we came back up again, we met the engineer Bob Meaney on the train, who was very friendly and most interesting to talk to, we had a ball!

Then, back in Liskeard, Mike took the next train home while I took the next train to Bodmin. On the way we had to wait to let the big steam train through which had come down from Bristol for the day (all of this celebrating the 175 years of the Great Western line.) We were stopped on the inside of a curve and as the train approached I sang out "Here she comes! There she goes!" in great excitement to the whole carriage. Poor old mad woman.

Bodmin came up with a very pleasant surprise, because I had expected a wait of an hour and a half in Bodmin Parkway station, miles from the town with nothing to do in the middle of nowhere. I had considered taking a taxi into the town at least (there were no buses until the one that I was to catch later, which went from the station through the town and on.) But the only taxi there wanted "ten paund" so I wasn't doing that. But just as I sat down to wait, a bus pulled in. I hurried over and asked him if he was going into the town. Yes, he was. Was he by any chance going as far as Padstow? Yes, he was! So there you go. Well, there I went, certainly. I had thought I would be able to catch the last bus to Padstow but miss the last one to Constantine, where I wanted to spend the night. Pushing my luck, I asked if there would be a bus from Padstow to Constantine. "Yes, love. Just stay on this bus! I'm going on to Constantine." Well, there you go indeed! So no 90-minute walk in the dark to get to Constantine. How neat was that! Really, the whole trip worked out just perfectly, all the way through. I felt very blessed.

In fact things got better and better. I had looked at the possibility of a b&b in Padstow as an alternative to the long uninteresting walk along main roads, particularly in case it were to rain. That was when I discovered Rick Stein (whose fame hasn't really reached Mallorca very much.) I found he also did accommodation and for Sunday night there were beds available for ninety pounds. Well, that's not exactly a bargain but it would be fun to be able to say you had spent the night at Rick Stein's. I was prepared to consider it, just consider it. But when, nearer the time, they went up to 175 pounds, I wasn't! But when the bus reached Padstow, it pulled in and stopped. I asked how long it was stopping for, explaining I was hoping to find a takeaway somewhere. The bus driver said if I went down the road, turned right, went along and turned right again, I would find a chip shop. I was unwilling to risk missing the bus (which was the last one) but he said, "Go on, off you go!" in a way that suggested he wouldn't go without me. So off I went, and there was the chip shop: Rick Stein's Fish And Chips! Too good to be true! Haddock and chips, courtesy of Rick Stein. Back to the bus, running all the way, and the driver told me to eat it right away while it was still hot. So I did! Mr. Stein is obviously a dab hand with a fryer.

Then on to Constantine and a pleasant walk down to the hostel, eating blackberries for dessert along the way. (There were tons of them, everywhere we went. They were delicious.)

The hostel was just as described, right on the beach (and very much geered to surfers.) Actually this one was not just self-catering and people were eating a very tasty-looking supper with apple crumble for dessert. But I wouldn't have missed Rick Stein's fish and chips. I have a picture of the box to prove I wuz there.

I was wiser this time and having put my glasses into their case and into the (very good Chinese €9,00) rucksack, I made up my bed straight away, with the light on.

There was a top bunk free that looked right towards the window and the beach. Perfect.
I needed to re-charge my mobile and there was a slight problem about this, since the shaver point (right by my bunk - how handy) that fits the plug on my charger wasn't working, so I needed an adaptor which was hard to find (I won't travel without one again.) Finally I managed to borrow one from a German room-mate. I had a slight exchange of contrasting ideas with a South African woman who was also in the room, but it was harmless though rather fun.

All sorted, I went out for a walk. There had been a few people taking their dogs for a run on the beach (the topic of the exchange of ideas) but it was getting dark and there was no-one about. It started just spitting with rain, so I went back and sat for a while in the lounge reading a Mills & Boon I had found at the Lizard hostel to pass the time while I charged my mobile very insufficiently in their lounge, doing more snoozing than reading so gave up after a time. This, of course, turned out to be a mistake the next day. Didn't read much then, either - up to my lovely bed to fall asleep to the sound of the waves on the shore.

Next morning the tide was right out again, of course, leaving a beautiful beach where lots of people were walking their nice big dogs in a jolly way.

The surfers were out before breakfast. I had mine, a very good one, and then walked back up to the bus stop to get the bus back to Padstow again. (The alternative was to go down to Newquay, which would have been fun but there wasn't time because I had to be back in Bristol in time for my flight.) A slight problem here, as I discovered I'd left myself with insufficient money to buy the Ride Cornwall ticket. The store was willing to give me 'cash back' but I don't know the pin number of my card. How stupid. Well, bought an ordinary ticket and headed for Padstow.

Into the town to go to Lloyds, where the ability to show a 'book' avoided any problems. There were plenty of pasty shops.

Here too there was an inner harbour which was closed off by its doors, being low water.

As can be seen in the outer harbour.

I took the ferry across to Rock, with the river showing all its sand banks.

It's a neatly designed boat and at low water in Rock it simply runs up the beach with no problem at all.
Padstow is a very pretty little town which is now very popular and 'in' but has managed to retain all its charm. I have lots of pictures and thought I'd uploaded some but the internet was playing up last night and sometimes said it had uploaded pictures when it hadn't. So no more pictures, sorry.

Soon it was time to get the bus back to Bodmin to catch the train back to Bristol.

Back across the Tamar bridge to Plymouth.

And so back to Temple Meads again. Since everything had gone well I actually had plenty of time before my plane so I took a bus into the city to see something of my roots (Pa's home town, after all, which I had never seen before.) Among the places I visited was Bristol parish church, which appeared to be undergoing some sort of renovation. However it was still welcoming visitors and I felt that the workman who calmly rode in on his bicycle should have shown more respect.

They seem to have taken the clock face off.

The bell rope was a huge temptation, but I resisted.
After wandering around a bit more, it was time to go back to the station to get the bus to the airport and back home.

This was a fantastic trip, really enjoyable, interesting, nostalgic, picturesque, exhilarating, fun, something to be remembered and willingly repeated. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the preparation really paid off, making it possible to cover a lot of ground in three days but still having time to wander around between stages. Mike's suggestion of youth hostels was a winner and the two I stayed at were fantastic; great locations, warm and welcoming, good facilities, everything I could have asked for. The Ride Cornwall ticket was another great contribution to the trip, making it possible to ride any train, any bus for just 10 pounds a day. Mike coming along made it all the more fun, since we shared the experiences and had a lot of laughs. I really enjoyed his company. A wonderful holiday.