The Summer Weather Has Been Brilliant Until Last Week

That is what everyone says at each stop along the way. We awoke at Lynda and Steve's to thunder, much lightning, and heavy rain. Leaving midday we drove to Weymouth and caught the ferry to Guernsey in the Channel Islands. Gray and rainy we walked the streets in search of dinner. Mediocre food, not a single photo taken. One of those days that will not be remembered.

 

 

Today we journeyed on the first ferry of the morning to Sark. Sark is a very small but unique island that does not allow any cars. When you visit, your options are walking, cycling, or riding in a horse drawn carriage. With a cruise ship and tour buses in town Mike and I immediately headed for the remote. Actually there are two islands, Sark and Little Sark, joined by a narrow causeway with extremely steep drops on either side. We walked to the furthest point of Little Sark to explore the cliffs and find the "Venus Pool". After scrambling around in all the wrong places and asking for directional help another couple scrabbling around nearby, we found the location after the tide has risen and the pool had disappeared to become part of the incoming sea. However, we did manage to complete our mountain goat training for this trip.

 

 

 

After our epic climbing escapades, we stopped at La Sablonnerie to be spoiled for lunch in their garden by a whole battalion of waiters and waitresses dressed to the nines in formal black and white. It would be difficult to recall how many staff were involved in serving us our reasonably simple lunches of crab and smoked salmon salads, but the combination of pampering, ambience, good food, and a lengthy interlude of sunshine was an enormous contrast with our initial disappointment on arrival in Guernsey.

 

Enchanting is the best word to describe La Seigneurie, the home of the ruling family originating in feudal times. The form of government has changed in the last decade but the title remains. Today the gardens and much of the property is open for tourists although the house is private. Amazing gardens seem to continually appear during this trip. These gardens are walled in brick with stair stepped square plots surrounded with walkways. Even this late in the season there are masses of color. Two small fountains hide in the front of the garden surrounded with lattice walls. Behind the house is the largest, most impressive dovecote I ever expect to see. Traditionally, only this family is allowed to house doves on the island.

As we walked by the church we were attracted by the sound of voices joined in song. Outside the church were animals and owners. Today was the blessing of animals and we saw an enormous Clydesdale, two tiny ponies, a sheep, and dogs outside with a hint of many more inside.

 

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Wandering in the Countryside

 

 

Really enormous 19th century house surrounded by acres of green, impressive gatehouse, a blaze of color in the front gardens and the sun is shining when we arrive at Lanhydrock. Although it is a centuries old location, a fire required some rebuilding and the larger and grander style of the 1880s was chosen. As a National Trust site it promised a tour of fifty rooms with docents dressed in period costumes describing the working of this large estate. As we approached the front door a volunteer offered a quick ten minute introduction before entering. Gathering six or eight people he pulled out a stack of index cards and began to haltingly read as if he had never seen his notes before. Slinking away after a few moments, we were warmly greeted in the entry by a lovely woman dressed in a floor length mauve and black gown. Although the house was well staffed only one kitchen volunteer was willing to leave the comfort of his chair and interact with all of the intruders. In spite of the lack of information I did find the house interesting. Just the kitchen alone was divided into eight rooms including the kitchen, the scullery, the bakehouse, the pastry room, the pantry room, the meat larder, the dairy scullery and the dairy. I can't imagine the size of the staff! The noble who rebuilt the house was the father of ten. A separate nursery wing was built for the children, their nurses and teacher. The children and their caretakers rarely left the area, even cooking and eating meals in isolation. The long gallery, 116 feet long, which serves as the library is not the cozy, curl up in an armchair in front of the fire type of room. It does have a plastered barrel ceiling finished before the 1642 Civil War which is a intricately detailed depiction of Old Testament history.

We sat beside the sea in Fowey for a late lunch. The harbor has two docking areas for boats. Close into the sea wall are the smaller, older fishing vessels. Further out in the opposite direction are rows of large, shiny recreational sailing and power driven crafts. Sitting all along the boardwalk are people eating their fish and chips and enjoying the sunny afternoon. A small vehicle ferry carried us across the river in ten minutes and we were back on the road.

Our afternoon to-see list included tracking down a few monuments on Bodmin Moor, then moving on to Dartmoor to explore several more, en route to dinner with Mike's sister Lynda and her husband Steve. However, our list failed to acknowledge the fact that there are only twenty-four hours in a day and the roads are narrow, winding and slow with sheep, cattle, and horses sharing the road. Our unplanned leisurely lunch only made this situation worse. Bodmin Moor was scratched from our plan and we zipped towards Dartmoor, figuring we had about an hour to drive 20 miles across it and see some sights on the way. Wonderful moorland scenery, apart from the horrendous prison, but 'some sights' turned out to be two; the ancient Clapper Bridge, comprised of huge flat granite slaps resting on stone pillars, and the picturesque village of Widecome-in-the-Moor which features in an English nursery rhyme.

 

Our intended time for emergence from Dartmoor had long passed by the time we reached faster roads with another 30 miles to Lynda's, so Mike upped our cruising speed to 80 mph as we flew past Exeter and on to Honiton. No time to buy the dinner wine, so we arrived empty-handed.

 

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Expecting to See Sherlock Holmes Step Out of the Fog

 

 

Ready and waiting in the fog for the first boat to St. Michael's Mount. The first two trips are for employees only. Mike and I are the first ones on the third boat. The weather is not cold, just lacking in any visibility. We are setting off for an unseeable destination. Deciding to see the gardens first, like the over zealous travelers we are, first in line, first through the gate, first to make a wrong turn. Following the rough cobblestone path up, up, up the hill Mike says, "Where were the gardens?" My reply, "Look at all these beautiful trees and plantings." As usual Mike was correct and we arrive at the castle door without having seen the gardens and are invited in as the first visitors of the day. Interesting self guided tour without any crowds. The posted pictures are of the library, always my favorite room.

Hiking back down the hill we came to the castle entrance. When I enquired about getting to the garden, the attendant knew all about us. They had had a call from the garden entry booth that the first guests of the day had gone astray. We were now infamous and accounted for. Up we trekked to the gardens. The color themes and visual effects are so beautifully planned. On this damp and foggy day all of the subtropical plants seem out of place but add so much color to the landscape.

 

With the tide in, we boarded a boat at the sea wall. Several hours later the tide was receding and the boats could not go all of the way to shore. Of course, a clever solution, that creates more access and more monetary income. We disembarked on one side of a large craggy rock, walked up one side and down the other. This put us on a stone path that had appeared out of the sea so that we could walk to the sea wall where tour buses were disembarking dozens of people who would have lengthy waits to cross the water.

Several months ago while researching the top gardens of Great Britain I read about the Lost Gardens of Heligan. This very large garden was connected to a family estate. During the First World War most of the gardeners went to war and lost their lives. Over the following decades the gardens were untended, overgrown, and forgotten. In the 1990's a group of dedicated garden lovers began to research from photos, excavate from digging, and resurrect as accurately as possible the gardens. Many original plants were still there hiding in the wreckage of fallen out buildings, greenhouses and overgrowth. Today it is a remarkably large and beautiful space. There are rhododendrons with trunks the size of trees, that are as tall as houses, with branches forming a vast umbrella of cover as much as seventy five feet in diameter. Furthermore, they were all apparently grown from seeds imported more than a century ago. I stood there in awe.

 

The most unusual garden is the jungle garden. Again there are acres of subtropical plants surrounding a series of four descending pools linked by interconnecting streams. Many plants were imported as early as the late 1700's. Growing among them are the native plants that we expect in England or in Oregon. The growth is so dense I cannot imagine how gardeners could get to plants to tend them. Perhaps that is what jungle means. No tending, just hacking down the plants that obscure the pathways. Could that work on NE 26th?

Remnants of the old tool room

 

There was so much more to the gardens. . . Bees, vegetables, dovecotes, sheep, goats, chickens, enormous black ducks, geese, lawns, a well, a hidden grotto . . . If I lived here we would have a membership to visit and see the gardens in all seasons of the year.

 

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Lighthouses Seen and Unseen

Today was a tour of the less traveled places in Cornwall. The poor weather of fog and drizzle continued all day. Gazing miles out to sea under blue skies was not to be on this trip. Our first lighthouse was at Pendeen. The pictures, which you will not see on this blog, look like last year's pictures from Cape Wrath, Scotland. Solid gray with a faint partial outline of a building.

 

 

Moving on to Lizard Point, the most southern point in England, we were met with the same landscape. We could see the the small boats pulled up on the sand, the one lonely fisherman drinking his tea, and the crashing waves, but beyond that the view was swallowed by the fog.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A car and time have given us the freedom to wander and find some interesting villages that attract few tourists. Cadgwith is just that sort of wonderful discovery. Of course, we Pay and Display, then follow the pedestrian path to the very narrow, winding, steep road through town. The path is a delight, walking past a greenhouse, a very small blue corrugated metal church, interesting old homes, and flowering gardens. As we exited the path and crossed the steep hill, I stepped on a wet, oily spot and found myself sprawled on the side of the road. My camera exploded with the battery, disk, and front lens laying beside me on the road. Cleaned it up, put it back together, and it still works. On vacation the camera is more important than a few bruises and scraped knees.

 

We went on a search for a couple of ancient, unexplainable stone formations. Apparently most people find them well hidden because in front of a local farmhouse we found a small printed sign with clear directions. We had already passed the dolman, Lanyon Quoit, by a half mile. Returning we found a tiny plaque at ground level perpendicular to the road and narrow stone stairs in a small opening in the hedgerow. The stones are aligned to the cardinal directions. Perhaps a burial chamber or a site of religious ceremony?

 

Down the road, across from the old schoolhouse, we walked a half mile trail to Men-An-Tol. This site was three stones in a line. The middle stone is round and hollowed out like a doughnut. People of the past believed the stones had magical powers that granted wishes and cured diseases when you passed people through the middle stone.

After a few more stops beside the sea we arrived at Land's End just after four. There is no town, just a few rows of shops. Each of them was closing and locking its door as we walked by. The cliffs and the ocean were in view but no chance of catching a clear glimpse of the Isles of Scilly. To prove the point, the foghorn of the Longships Lighthouse bleated its ghostly sound on a regular basis.

 

Despite heavy rain, the highlight of the day was attending a performance of Smoky Joe's Cafe at the Minack Theatre. The open air theatre is built into the side of a cliff overlooking Porthcumo Bay. Rowena Cade, the owner of the property, with the help,of her gardener, dug out seats and carried shipwreck timbers up from the shore to build a venue for a theatre group in 1931. Today as we wound down the stairs to our seats we walked through a multilayered sub tropical rockery. Under a canopy were the three musicians but all of the performers were under the stars or in this case the pelting rain. The heaviest rain was saved for the last forty-five minutes but those on stage didn't seem to notice and the crowd stayed on to the end. We drove home in soggy clothes, bedraggled but happy.

 

 

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Cornwall Coast Drive

 

 

Falling short of our planned itinerary we started the morning with a catch up maneuver. Our accommodation last night did not include breakfast so we left early and drove to Padstow to stroll through the village and eat. The sun rising across the harbor illuminated the shop fronts and the boats giving them a warm glow. Mike and I were savoring our first warm, sunny morning in England as we searched for an open restaurant. The best of a few choices was the Rick Stein cafe. Rick Stein is a household word in this part of the world. He owns a number of restaurants in Padstow employing 450 residents, and then there are the cookbooks, hotel, and television shows. This small cafe has windows across the front, white walls, light wood tables and chairs with clean, simple lines. Around all the edges of the room there are bench seats with a multitude of pillows covered in stripes of red and pink. Very bright and cozy.

Our first walk along the sea was the Pentire Headland, a short and gentle sloping walk from the outskirts of Newquay. Blue water, blue sky, and a large, rocky outcropping perfect for a photo. A bench was strategically placed for a camera stand. Set up, focused, shutter release delayed, ran to place, no click. Repeated, same result. Repeated holding camera, success, except I wasn't in the picture. Several people offered to take the photo but we were having too much fun looking ridiculous. Final results are here.

Now a brief intermission for observations by the non Brit half of this partnership. Parking everywhere on the English Coast is "Pay and Display". I mean everywhere! Every attraction and every village, no matter how small. It is completely sensible when you see the curving, hilly roads that are often narrower than a single lane but we have to remember to be equipped with a pocketful of coins. Surfing is a popular sport along the Cornwall coast. There were dozens of surfers clad in wet suits waiting with great patience as the larger waves were few and far between today. Cycling here is for the intrepid. There doesn't seem to be a straight road Cornwall, few are wide enough for two cars much less a bike lane, and some hills have grades of 17% to 20%. This could explain why we have only seen three women cycling among dozens of men.

 

Our second hike of the day was along the hill top at Chapel Porth. Looking out to sea at the highest point, we were standing among the ruins of one of the many tin mines in this area. The National Trust now owns the land and maintains the trails.

 

St. Ives is quite a large coastal town filled with the kind of tat shops that Mike and I avoid. We did some wandering of the streets but spend most of our time at the Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden. She was a 20th century sculptor whose home and studio was turned into this museum. The garden was grown into a dense cover that allows the pieces, many quite large, to each have their own setting. It also kept the showers from reaching us while we admired her work.

Our stay tonight is in Marazion with a fabulous view of St. Michael's Mount, or so they say. Beach fog has drawn a curtain around everything. Our dinner was a walk down to the local pub. We were talked into participating in the local quiz night. Eighty questions and only two could be considered American. I could be helpful in pronouncing the name of Ken Kesey for the quiz master. With no help from me and Mike's lack of knowledge of Brit TV we won a bottle of wine for the lowest score.

 

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Ancient Legends to Modern Television

 

 

 

Foolishly, we congratulated ourselves on our first relatively early start to meander along the north Devon coast through Exmoor en route towards Padstow. Just before Minehead, a silhouette of a castle on a hill appeared, the car somehow veered off to the left to a car park and we found ourselves touring the grounds of Dunster Castle then wandering through the rooms of the castle itself. The castle, first constructed over a thousand years ago has undergone innumerable major remodels. In the early 1900's it encompassed thousands of acres and three villages. Lost to the taxman in the forties it was repurchased by the Lutrell family who have owned it for more than 600 years. In 1976 it was given to the National Trust. The acres of gardens filled with native and subtropical plants, streams, and bridges begged us to stay longer, but it was midday by the time we left and our early start was laughably a thing of the past.

Porlock

Winding and climbing our way westwards through Exmoor with the sea glinting in the bright sun to our right, we drove through the historically quaint village of Porlock, then veered off on a planned detour to Porlock Weir for a late lunch. Informed that our intended return to the main road via the Worthy Toll road was not possible due to resurfacing work, we retraced our steps before resuming our route towards Lynmouth, a coastal resort and river outlet at the base of a deep valley which suffered catastrophic damage in 1952 as torrents of flood water cascaded down the valley and swamped the village. Six hundred feet directly above Lynmouth at the top of the cliffs is the village of Lynton, the two joined by a unique 1890 cliff railway powered entirely by water pumped from the River Lyn more than a mile away. A trip up and back gave us a breathtaking view of the ocean

 

 

Lynton

Mid-afternoon with lots of miles to go and things to see as we set off again. To save time we skipped an intended detour through Bude as we sped towards Tintagel Castle, arriving an hour before it closed to clamber up the steep and uneven steps hugging the cliffside to wander amongst the ruins overlooking the sea. Legend says that King Arthur was conceived at this location. Did Arthur really exist? It is fact that this majestic hilltop location was the site of a castle built in 1233.

 

 

 

 

Curtailing our plans even more, we hurried along the narrow twisting coastal road to Port Isaac (re-christened Portwenn as the location for the Brit TV series Doc Martin) and stopped for dinner in an old schoolhouse. Although we located his office Doc Martin was nowhere to be seen, perhaps he was on an emergency call.

 

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From Abbey to Cathedral

Before I forget, I must comment on the quality of food in rural England. This is not the country I visited thirteen years ago. Every meal to date has been excellent! Last night we lodged at a pub/B and B called the Running Horse in Littleton. Our expectations were low, very low. Instead, the dining room was a warm atmosphere of rust-coloured walls, and chunky wood tables surrounded on all walls with bookcases constructed from solid old timbers stocked with hundreds of old leather-bound volumes. The service was good, the menu varied and the food excellent. Not a single overcooked veggie or deep fried entree.

After a scenic drive through the countryside we arrived at Lacock Abbey. It has an incredibly varied and interesting history. The abbey was founded in the early 13th century by Lady Ela, the Countess of Salisbury. In the 16th century, with the Dissolution of the Monasteries, it was sold into private ownership and converted into a residence. The Talbot family acquired the estate in the 1750's and retained it as a family home until 1944 when it was donated to the National Trust. The medieval cloisters and most of the ground floor rooms have been preserved in their original state. The home above it is large with rooms organized in a square above the cloisters. This site has been used for many films including Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

The most famous of the Talbots was William Henry Fox Talbot, well educated and a curious inventor. He is credited with developing and patenting the photo negative in 1835. On the grounds of the estate is an extensive photo museum.

 

 

And there was an extra delightful surprise that perhaps only my library friends will appreciate. At noon in the cloister, Cornelia Funke, dressed in a wonderful costume read from her newest book and then answered audience questions. Talking with her afterwards, she lamented the demise of school libraries and offered to try to arrange a protest reading in Beaverton. Do you think she was serious?

 

The village of Lacock is situated next to the Abbey. If you removed the cars it would look almost unchanged over the centuries. For our good fortune, modern cooking facilities and an outside tearoom provided us with a late afternoon tea.

A visit to Wells Cathedral ended our day. There are no tours on Sunday so we self guided inside and out. Like all English cathedrals it was a work in progress for many centuries. The outside facade below the towers is covered with sculptured figures. Closely examined we saw that many had lost their heads in the Civil War and others seem to have been damaged by weather. It is still an amazing feat of construction. The streets of buildings surrounding the Cathedral have been retained intact to create the feeling of a Cathedral neighborhood. The street named the Vicar's Close with several blocks of row homes and cobbled streets is atmospherically medieval. Out of time we reached the Bishop's Palace after closing. Perhaps we missed something but it was a great day and Mike and I were not disappointed.

 

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