Cornwall August 2018: A Mini Trip Report
Aug 16th, 2018, 09:00 AM
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Cornwall August 2018: A Mini Trip Report
Saturday.
Most of my family have moved down to the west country, and I usually visit a couple of times a year, but can't remember if I've ever done a TR on the area before, so here is one.
My brother actually lives in Mylor Bridge, which is on one of the creeks of the Fal Estuary. The estuary - also called The Carrick Roads - has many, many creeks, with marinas, waterfront pubs and restaurants, footpaths around the various headlands, private beaches and a myriad of ferries and water taxis plying the channels. It is a really beautiful area.
I live in the East of England, so it's a minimum drive of 5.5 hours for me, and this time round was more like 6.5, as I was travelling on a Saturday during the school holidays. Although it was sunny when I left, it rained lightly from Bristol onward, causing fogging of my car windscreen as I'd come from the hot balmy east (!), and the temps inside and outside of the car were vastly different and refused to be equalised, even when I opened a window to let the drizzle in. I stopped once to eat sandwiches that I'd pre-purchased from Sainsbury's, as the service stations along the M4/M5 are mostly crap and very expensive. The journey beyond the the M5 crosses the moors and can be quite picturesque, if it isn't pissing down. The train from London with Great Western is also a good option - you go through the Vale of the White Horse, and some lovely coastal bits once past Exeter. It almost feels as though you are actually in the sea in Dawlish, as you are so low to the water. Famously, a section of the track collapsed into the sea here in a storm a couple of years back (but don't let that put you off!).
When I arrived in Mylor, the weather was already starting to brighten up a bit, and I sat in my brother's garden which backs onto the creek, drinking wine and chatting to his chickens, whilst the finishing touches were put to dinner (moussaka, tzatziki and pitta).
Next Up: Falmouth week, hipster coffee, shopping.
Most of my family have moved down to the west country, and I usually visit a couple of times a year, but can't remember if I've ever done a TR on the area before, so here is one.
My brother actually lives in Mylor Bridge, which is on one of the creeks of the Fal Estuary. The estuary - also called The Carrick Roads - has many, many creeks, with marinas, waterfront pubs and restaurants, footpaths around the various headlands, private beaches and a myriad of ferries and water taxis plying the channels. It is a really beautiful area.
I live in the East of England, so it's a minimum drive of 5.5 hours for me, and this time round was more like 6.5, as I was travelling on a Saturday during the school holidays. Although it was sunny when I left, it rained lightly from Bristol onward, causing fogging of my car windscreen as I'd come from the hot balmy east (!), and the temps inside and outside of the car were vastly different and refused to be equalised, even when I opened a window to let the drizzle in. I stopped once to eat sandwiches that I'd pre-purchased from Sainsbury's, as the service stations along the M4/M5 are mostly crap and very expensive. The journey beyond the the M5 crosses the moors and can be quite picturesque, if it isn't pissing down. The train from London with Great Western is also a good option - you go through the Vale of the White Horse, and some lovely coastal bits once past Exeter. It almost feels as though you are actually in the sea in Dawlish, as you are so low to the water. Famously, a section of the track collapsed into the sea here in a storm a couple of years back (but don't let that put you off!).
When I arrived in Mylor, the weather was already starting to brighten up a bit, and I sat in my brother's garden which backs onto the creek, drinking wine and chatting to his chickens, whilst the finishing touches were put to dinner (moussaka, tzatziki and pitta).
Next Up: Falmouth week, hipster coffee, shopping.
Aug 16th, 2018, 12:11 PM
#2
Looking forward -- I've never stayed in Mylor/Mylor Bridge but have been to Trelissik Gardens/House a couple of times.
(I always thought the town of Penryn about 10 miles from where I live in northern CA was named after the Penryn next door to Mylor - we had a lot of Cornish miners settle the aree. But it ws actually a Welsh quarry man who founded it)
(I always thought the town of Penryn about 10 miles from where I live in northern CA was named after the Penryn next door to Mylor - we had a lot of Cornish miners settle the aree. But it ws actually a Welsh quarry man who founded it)
Aug 16th, 2018, 12:44 PM
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Janis - a lot of Cornish place names sound Welsh to me - Penryn is a perfect example. Btw there are some nice art galleries in Penryn, and a couple of decent cafes along the waterfront. The main claim to fame though are the boatyards/boat repairers and diving shops. The landlord of my brothers local pub (The Lemon Arms) in Mylor is considered an ‘outsider’ because he comes from Penryn, all of two miles away!
Aug 17th, 2018, 09:31 AM
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Sunday
We started the day with breakfast at home, scrambled egg on toast with a bit of crispy bacon on top, watching deer nibbling foliage in the scrubland behind my brothers garden.. I nipped out the back to thank the chickens for their eggs, and my brother suggested I feed them some mealworms to show my appreciation, so I took a scoop from the black plastic bin in the garage and lobbed some into the enclosure. Lots of happy clucking ensued as they fought over and gobbled the worms, whilst we (my brother, his wife and I) tended to the garden, doing a bit of weeding and picking tomatoes, raspberries and runner beans. We then crossed the tiny bridge my brother has built over the narrowest part of the creek to the scrubland beyond, where we also picked blackberries, getting purple-stained hands and lots of scratches in the process.
Around midday we headed into Falmouth, parking at the far end of town, near Events Square. Falmouth basically developed as a packet ship port - meaning that it was a point of departure for mail deliveries to the colonies of the British Empire, predominantly the US. Many smart Georgian terraces front the water, built for and occupied by sea captains who made their fortunes on the packet routes. There's a maritime museum in Falmouth which, amongst other things recounts the history of the packet ships. You can also see a variety of vessels spanning the centuries, right up to modern day Olympic medal-winning dingies and yachts. One of my favourite exhibits is the 9 foot dingy in which The Robertson family survived six weeks lost at sea in the 1970s after their yacht was capsized by whales. There's also a mock up of the very spartan interior typical of early lighthouses, occasional exhibitions - I very much enjoyed the Viking one a year or two back - and a top floor café, looking out over the water.
Falmouth is also a stopping off point for cruise vessels, naval vessels and posh yachts getting refitted. Zillions of tiny boats and launches dot the water all day long, and water taxis will ferry you up the Carrick Roads to Flushing, St Mawes, Malpas (and at high tide, even Truro). We wandered the length of the high street, nipping in and out of shops selling outdoor clothing (North Face, Craghoppers etc), surf boards, body boards and sex wax, and galleries offering paintings, jewellery and pottery by local artists. The streets are also well populated by cafes and restaurants. Rick Stein has a place in Events Square and we've had decent beer-battered fish and chips there before now. (Nb My brother actually prefers a slightly tacky-looking place called Harbour Lights for his fish and chip fix though, and whilst I've not tried it personally, it does always seem to have long queues outside, which must surely be something of a recommendation). For pasties, I suggest the Courtyard Café, which does some really delicious variations like lamb and mint, and anther local speciality, homity pie (cheese and potato). They also do very good cakes and macarons.
Heading toward the Penryn end of town you come to an area of antique shops, vintage clothing stores and independent cafes. We've often picked up old postcards here, depicting Falmouth in the 60s and 70s (complete with old cars like Morris Travellers and everyone dressed in brown and orange), and sat writing them in one of the coffee shops. My current favourite is Café Ope, run by a couple who relocated from Brighton a few years back. They do great coffee, homemade chocolate and Guinness cake, and brunch-type dishes like avocado on toast and pancakes. Sometimes the café stays open, impromptu, in the evenings, offering plates of cheese, wine tastings and the odd Negroni or Bloody Mary. It's a tiny space with just three of four tables, vintage film posters on the walls, and sugar served in old Tate and Lyle golden syrup tins. Across the road there's an archway that lets you see through to the waterfront, yachts bobbing on the water between Falmouth and Flushing.
After coffee and shortbread we retraced our steps back through Falmouth dipping in and out of shops we'd missed on the way up, including a healthfood store where my brothers wife bought shampoo bars, and organic chocolate truffles, and Ann's Cottage, a clothing and accessories store where I bought a necklace with a tiny silver anchor on. Btw, my visit coincided with Falmouth week, and there were posters up everywhere advertising the various events on - concerts, and yacht flotillas, craft markets and street food stalls. My brothers wife, who is an ecologist was to be participating in a science fair later that week which also formed part of the festival - she informed me it necessitated her dressing up as a meercat!
We finished the day at my dad's flat in Falmouth (he moved down in May this year) where we cooked a roast lamb dinner, and used our freshly picked blackberries to make a blackberry and apple crumble.
We started the day with breakfast at home, scrambled egg on toast with a bit of crispy bacon on top, watching deer nibbling foliage in the scrubland behind my brothers garden.. I nipped out the back to thank the chickens for their eggs, and my brother suggested I feed them some mealworms to show my appreciation, so I took a scoop from the black plastic bin in the garage and lobbed some into the enclosure. Lots of happy clucking ensued as they fought over and gobbled the worms, whilst we (my brother, his wife and I) tended to the garden, doing a bit of weeding and picking tomatoes, raspberries and runner beans. We then crossed the tiny bridge my brother has built over the narrowest part of the creek to the scrubland beyond, where we also picked blackberries, getting purple-stained hands and lots of scratches in the process.
Around midday we headed into Falmouth, parking at the far end of town, near Events Square. Falmouth basically developed as a packet ship port - meaning that it was a point of departure for mail deliveries to the colonies of the British Empire, predominantly the US. Many smart Georgian terraces front the water, built for and occupied by sea captains who made their fortunes on the packet routes. There's a maritime museum in Falmouth which, amongst other things recounts the history of the packet ships. You can also see a variety of vessels spanning the centuries, right up to modern day Olympic medal-winning dingies and yachts. One of my favourite exhibits is the 9 foot dingy in which The Robertson family survived six weeks lost at sea in the 1970s after their yacht was capsized by whales. There's also a mock up of the very spartan interior typical of early lighthouses, occasional exhibitions - I very much enjoyed the Viking one a year or two back - and a top floor café, looking out over the water.
Falmouth is also a stopping off point for cruise vessels, naval vessels and posh yachts getting refitted. Zillions of tiny boats and launches dot the water all day long, and water taxis will ferry you up the Carrick Roads to Flushing, St Mawes, Malpas (and at high tide, even Truro). We wandered the length of the high street, nipping in and out of shops selling outdoor clothing (North Face, Craghoppers etc), surf boards, body boards and sex wax, and galleries offering paintings, jewellery and pottery by local artists. The streets are also well populated by cafes and restaurants. Rick Stein has a place in Events Square and we've had decent beer-battered fish and chips there before now. (Nb My brother actually prefers a slightly tacky-looking place called Harbour Lights for his fish and chip fix though, and whilst I've not tried it personally, it does always seem to have long queues outside, which must surely be something of a recommendation). For pasties, I suggest the Courtyard Café, which does some really delicious variations like lamb and mint, and anther local speciality, homity pie (cheese and potato). They also do very good cakes and macarons.
Heading toward the Penryn end of town you come to an area of antique shops, vintage clothing stores and independent cafes. We've often picked up old postcards here, depicting Falmouth in the 60s and 70s (complete with old cars like Morris Travellers and everyone dressed in brown and orange), and sat writing them in one of the coffee shops. My current favourite is Café Ope, run by a couple who relocated from Brighton a few years back. They do great coffee, homemade chocolate and Guinness cake, and brunch-type dishes like avocado on toast and pancakes. Sometimes the café stays open, impromptu, in the evenings, offering plates of cheese, wine tastings and the odd Negroni or Bloody Mary. It's a tiny space with just three of four tables, vintage film posters on the walls, and sugar served in old Tate and Lyle golden syrup tins. Across the road there's an archway that lets you see through to the waterfront, yachts bobbing on the water between Falmouth and Flushing.
After coffee and shortbread we retraced our steps back through Falmouth dipping in and out of shops we'd missed on the way up, including a healthfood store where my brothers wife bought shampoo bars, and organic chocolate truffles, and Ann's Cottage, a clothing and accessories store where I bought a necklace with a tiny silver anchor on. Btw, my visit coincided with Falmouth week, and there were posters up everywhere advertising the various events on - concerts, and yacht flotillas, craft markets and street food stalls. My brothers wife, who is an ecologist was to be participating in a science fair later that week which also formed part of the festival - she informed me it necessitated her dressing up as a meercat!
We finished the day at my dad's flat in Falmouth (he moved down in May this year) where we cooked a roast lamb dinner, and used our freshly picked blackberries to make a blackberry and apple crumble.
Last edited by RM67; Aug 17th, 2018 at 09:34 AM.
Aug 19th, 2018, 12:49 PM
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Monday.
My brother and his wife had to work, so this gave me a couple of days to explore on my own. I’d decided before I’d come down to Cornwall that if the weather was good I’d try and spend some time in St Ives, so when Monday dawned bright and sunny, I started making plans for the trip north-east. Being the school summer holiday, I knew there was virtually no chance of finding parking in St Ives, so I decided instead to get the train from Truro. I set my sat nav and started on my way, only to be repeatedly instructed to go in entirely the wrong direction, so unplugged the Garmin, threw it in the passenger footwell, and just trusted to luck instead. I did find the station without any problems, but spent about 15 minutes at the level crossing before I could actually get over the tracks and into the car park.It was a huge novelty (as someone who lives within commuting distance of London) to see so many empty spaces after 9am! The ticket machine didn’t accept cards (the card reader was broken) and wouldn’t take some of the change in my purse as being too low in denomination, but a very kind lady gave me a pound coin and I was able to make up the balance. The ticket cost me £7.10 for a return to St Ives, and once I’d broken into a £10 note, I was able to give my good samaritan her £1 back!
The journey took about 40 minutes – 30 of which was on the mainline, passing occasional villages and derelict tin mine workings, and the remainder on a tiny branch line from St Erth to St Ives. The mainline train didn’t have enough carriages and was hot and crowded, but I managed to get a seat by the window on the branch line to enjoy the views, which are absolutely spectacular. You first pass an area of salt marsh, then run right along the coast with ocean views the whole of the rest of the way, passing two near-deserted beaches near Hayle whose names I can never remember (one sounds like ‘kidney’), and then beautiful Carbis Bay, finally stopping right alongside Porthminster beach in St Ives.
Porthminster beach was being enjoyed by lots of people in swimsuits, with deckchairs and striped windbreaks, and a range of inflatables (pink flamingos, giant yellow lemon slices etc). Overlooking the beach were a number of hotels and restaurants with roof terraces populated by luckier people(!) sat on rattan chairs with gin and tonics, admiring the vista. I walked into town which really only took 5 minutes or so, passing art galleries and coffee shops almost immediately. Along Fore Street I browsed fudge shops, surf shops, shell shops, an Italian bakery with a sort of hatch opening onto the street where a long queue of people were ordering cannoli, more art galleries, and a post office, where I purchased post cards and a biro.This area is tourist central, and you really need to get a bit further back from the seafront, where you will find churches and church halls repurposed as craft galleries or printmakers, B&Bs called things like 'The Grey Mullet', and tiny yards and patios where wetsuits and boardshorts are hung out to dry.
St Ives is of course famous for ‘the light’ which has attracted artists for years – I think it’s due to the way the town is virtually on a peninsula, sticking out into the sea. The Tate Gallery no less has an offshoot here (with a café on the top floor with views of the water), and there is also the Barbara Hepworth Sculpture Garden. I have visited both of these attractions before, so didn’t bother with either this time, but did nip in and out of various craft shops and art galleries, perusing jewellery made from silver and biwa pearls. I can’t remember exactly where (it wasn’t that noteworthy anyway), but I stopped somewhere for a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea, then made my way to Porthgwidden beach, the tiniest in St Ives, again mobbed by holiday makers, plenty of people swimming in the turquoise water, some circumnavigating the little rocket islets just offshore. The most visually impressive beach (imho) – Porthmeor – is a bit further on. It has a café with wonderful views and upmarketish cuisine like seabass, and confit this and that, and things cooked with fennel and miso.
Heading back along the harbour front I tried to get an ice cream from a kiosk overlooking the beach, only to be told they’d run out, but was pointed to a small shop about 20 steps away. The shopfront was a garish purple and didn’t look that epicurean, but I was desperate for something cold, so popped in nonetheless. I was pleasantly surprised to see a really impressive menu of unusual flavours (turkish delight, cornish cream tea, liquorice and blackcurrant to name just a few), and plumped for old fashioned rum and raisin, which turned out to be delicious. I only bought one scoop but it was very generous. ‘Be careful of the seagulls – they’re mental today!’ the young man behind the counter warned me. So I sat inside to eat my ice cream. As I ventured out I saw a teenager who’d bought a pasty from the next door shop being attacked by about half a dozen of the birds – literally trying to rip the napkin-wrapped pastry out of his hand, no pretence of just hanging round surrupticiously waiting for crumbs - a full-on mugging! After this, I spotted seagull warning notices in a number of places, and even a shop tucked away in a back alley proudly proclaiming it was a ‘seagull free zone’.Btw, the excellent ice cream parlour was called Willy Wallers – nowhere near as famous as Roskillys or Kellys, but every bit as good.
After about 3 or 4 hours I caught the train back to Truro then drove to Mylor harbour, thinking it would be a nice quiet place to write my postcards. There’s a restaurant here called ‘Castaways’, and a place that does surprisingly good tapas (which may or may not be part of Castaways – I’m not quite sure), and a pub, and a yacht club. I’d come to use Mylor café though, which does good basic drinks, sandwiches and snacks. They even have their own loyalty card, with little yachts on, and everytime you buy a coffee one of your yachts gets stamped J I ordered a chocolate milkshake and sat on the terrace outside so I could watch the boats coming and going, and could listen to the sound of clinking masts, which I love. I couldn’t think of anything erudite to write on my postcards, even with the inspiring view, so finished up my milkshake and headed home.
After my brother and his wife had finished work, we headed out to Flushing – another waterside community, just opposite Falmouth. It has narrow streets with tiny terraced cottages, and bunting up all year round. There are working vessels (the odd fishing trawler and water taxi), and yet more yachts stationed here. At high tide, part of the main street can flood, and if you look closely at some of the houses you can see vertical runners by the front doors which allow insertion of boards to keep out the floodwater. We headed for a pub called The Royal Standard which was set back from the waterfront, but did have sea glimpses through a gap. Outside, a portly man with two bulldogs sat at a bench under red, white and blue bunting drinking a pint, like something from a tourist brochure (or UKIP pamphlet – take your pick
). I have to say the food here was pretty decent – our party had fish and chips, and seafood stew with crusty bread, and burgers.The light was very low in the pub (which I like, as it’s uber relaxing and chilled) but resulted in my dad, who is elderly and has poor eyesight not being able to identify what he was eating, and instead of picking up one of his chunky chips, stabbing a lemon quarter with his fork and shoving it in his mouth whole. My brother said his face was exactly the same as the cat’s when it's eaten something nasty!
My brother and his wife had to work, so this gave me a couple of days to explore on my own. I’d decided before I’d come down to Cornwall that if the weather was good I’d try and spend some time in St Ives, so when Monday dawned bright and sunny, I started making plans for the trip north-east. Being the school summer holiday, I knew there was virtually no chance of finding parking in St Ives, so I decided instead to get the train from Truro. I set my sat nav and started on my way, only to be repeatedly instructed to go in entirely the wrong direction, so unplugged the Garmin, threw it in the passenger footwell, and just trusted to luck instead. I did find the station without any problems, but spent about 15 minutes at the level crossing before I could actually get over the tracks and into the car park.It was a huge novelty (as someone who lives within commuting distance of London) to see so many empty spaces after 9am! The ticket machine didn’t accept cards (the card reader was broken) and wouldn’t take some of the change in my purse as being too low in denomination, but a very kind lady gave me a pound coin and I was able to make up the balance. The ticket cost me £7.10 for a return to St Ives, and once I’d broken into a £10 note, I was able to give my good samaritan her £1 back!
The journey took about 40 minutes – 30 of which was on the mainline, passing occasional villages and derelict tin mine workings, and the remainder on a tiny branch line from St Erth to St Ives. The mainline train didn’t have enough carriages and was hot and crowded, but I managed to get a seat by the window on the branch line to enjoy the views, which are absolutely spectacular. You first pass an area of salt marsh, then run right along the coast with ocean views the whole of the rest of the way, passing two near-deserted beaches near Hayle whose names I can never remember (one sounds like ‘kidney’), and then beautiful Carbis Bay, finally stopping right alongside Porthminster beach in St Ives.
Porthminster beach was being enjoyed by lots of people in swimsuits, with deckchairs and striped windbreaks, and a range of inflatables (pink flamingos, giant yellow lemon slices etc). Overlooking the beach were a number of hotels and restaurants with roof terraces populated by luckier people(!) sat on rattan chairs with gin and tonics, admiring the vista. I walked into town which really only took 5 minutes or so, passing art galleries and coffee shops almost immediately. Along Fore Street I browsed fudge shops, surf shops, shell shops, an Italian bakery with a sort of hatch opening onto the street where a long queue of people were ordering cannoli, more art galleries, and a post office, where I purchased post cards and a biro.This area is tourist central, and you really need to get a bit further back from the seafront, where you will find churches and church halls repurposed as craft galleries or printmakers, B&Bs called things like 'The Grey Mullet', and tiny yards and patios where wetsuits and boardshorts are hung out to dry.
St Ives is of course famous for ‘the light’ which has attracted artists for years – I think it’s due to the way the town is virtually on a peninsula, sticking out into the sea. The Tate Gallery no less has an offshoot here (with a café on the top floor with views of the water), and there is also the Barbara Hepworth Sculpture Garden. I have visited both of these attractions before, so didn’t bother with either this time, but did nip in and out of various craft shops and art galleries, perusing jewellery made from silver and biwa pearls. I can’t remember exactly where (it wasn’t that noteworthy anyway), but I stopped somewhere for a bacon sandwich and a cup of tea, then made my way to Porthgwidden beach, the tiniest in St Ives, again mobbed by holiday makers, plenty of people swimming in the turquoise water, some circumnavigating the little rocket islets just offshore. The most visually impressive beach (imho) – Porthmeor – is a bit further on. It has a café with wonderful views and upmarketish cuisine like seabass, and confit this and that, and things cooked with fennel and miso.
Heading back along the harbour front I tried to get an ice cream from a kiosk overlooking the beach, only to be told they’d run out, but was pointed to a small shop about 20 steps away. The shopfront was a garish purple and didn’t look that epicurean, but I was desperate for something cold, so popped in nonetheless. I was pleasantly surprised to see a really impressive menu of unusual flavours (turkish delight, cornish cream tea, liquorice and blackcurrant to name just a few), and plumped for old fashioned rum and raisin, which turned out to be delicious. I only bought one scoop but it was very generous. ‘Be careful of the seagulls – they’re mental today!’ the young man behind the counter warned me. So I sat inside to eat my ice cream. As I ventured out I saw a teenager who’d bought a pasty from the next door shop being attacked by about half a dozen of the birds – literally trying to rip the napkin-wrapped pastry out of his hand, no pretence of just hanging round surrupticiously waiting for crumbs - a full-on mugging! After this, I spotted seagull warning notices in a number of places, and even a shop tucked away in a back alley proudly proclaiming it was a ‘seagull free zone’.Btw, the excellent ice cream parlour was called Willy Wallers – nowhere near as famous as Roskillys or Kellys, but every bit as good.
After about 3 or 4 hours I caught the train back to Truro then drove to Mylor harbour, thinking it would be a nice quiet place to write my postcards. There’s a restaurant here called ‘Castaways’, and a place that does surprisingly good tapas (which may or may not be part of Castaways – I’m not quite sure), and a pub, and a yacht club. I’d come to use Mylor café though, which does good basic drinks, sandwiches and snacks. They even have their own loyalty card, with little yachts on, and everytime you buy a coffee one of your yachts gets stamped J I ordered a chocolate milkshake and sat on the terrace outside so I could watch the boats coming and going, and could listen to the sound of clinking masts, which I love. I couldn’t think of anything erudite to write on my postcards, even with the inspiring view, so finished up my milkshake and headed home.
After my brother and his wife had finished work, we headed out to Flushing – another waterside community, just opposite Falmouth. It has narrow streets with tiny terraced cottages, and bunting up all year round. There are working vessels (the odd fishing trawler and water taxi), and yet more yachts stationed here. At high tide, part of the main street can flood, and if you look closely at some of the houses you can see vertical runners by the front doors which allow insertion of boards to keep out the floodwater. We headed for a pub called The Royal Standard which was set back from the waterfront, but did have sea glimpses through a gap. Outside, a portly man with two bulldogs sat at a bench under red, white and blue bunting drinking a pint, like something from a tourist brochure (or UKIP pamphlet – take your pick
). I have to say the food here was pretty decent – our party had fish and chips, and seafood stew with crusty bread, and burgers.The light was very low in the pub (which I like, as it’s uber relaxing and chilled) but resulted in my dad, who is elderly and has poor eyesight not being able to identify what he was eating, and instead of picking up one of his chunky chips, stabbing a lemon quarter with his fork and shoving it in his mouth whole. My brother said his face was exactly the same as the cat’s when it's eaten something nasty!
Aug 19th, 2018, 01:38 PM
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Hi Thursdays - yes it's quite common to see them docked, and hoards of passengers exploring the town. Because the Carrick Roads are extensive and deep, you also get many vessels moored/laid up there long term (It's much cheaper than docking right in Falmouth). We saw a huge Chinese survey vessel there last year.
Aug 27th, 2018, 11:04 AM
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Tuesday
I decided I’d have a day exploring gardens, namely Trelissick, which I often visit as I love to walk along the creek that marks the fringes of the estate, and Trebah, which I’ve never been to before. Both are within about 20 minutes of Mylor, and I picked Trebah as the first port of call. The satnav behaved impeccably this time, taking me confidently down narrow green lanes through villages with odd names like Mawnan Smith. There was plenty of parking at Trebah, and the staff on the tills did a good job of explaining the best route to walk round the garden, warning everyone to go to the loo first as there were none once you left the reception area!
Trebah is basically a deep gorge that cuts through the hill, all the way down to the Helford River. The gorge is planted with palms, tree ferns, giant cabbagey-looking plants (can you tell I’m not a botanist!), rhododendrons, camelias, bamboo, monkey puzzle and redwoods. There are several ponds – one with a topiary Loch Ness monster in the centre, and another dotted with lilypads, crossed by a white japanese-style bridge. Well signposted paths zig-zag along the gorge giving you a choice of walking routes, which can be cross-checked with the map you get given on entry. At the bottom of the gorge is a small beach and a kiosk selling cream teas and ice cream. I wasn’t intending to partake that early, but the ice cream flavour of the day – orange and mascarpone – seemed to have a mesmeric pull, and before I knew it I was digging into a tub of the stuff with a teeny blue plastic paddle.
Back up at the café and giftshop I bought some greetings cards with photos of coastal scenes, and perused the lunch menu, but ultimately decided to head elsewhere to be fed. The Ferry Boat Inn on Helford Passage had been recommended to me (tempura prawns, cornish crab brioche roll, mackeral tacos!) and I reset the satnav and guided my tiny Audi down a narrow lane down toward the water as intructed. Unfortunately, it soon became obvious to me that there wasn’t going to be anywhere to pull up – several cars queuing for the car park, and multiple vehicles already lining the verges - so I decided to head straight to Trelissick instead.
Trelissick sits on a headland on the River Fal and although there are ornamental gardens, I usually come just to walk along the creekside path. Before setting out on my now-familiar walk, I nipped into the cafe for a bowl of carrot and coriander soup, and homemade granary bread. In the same courtyard as the café there is a very nice art gallery, second-hand bookshop, and a nursery for container plants. After finishing my lunch, I headed downhill from the courtyard and Trelissick house, toward a small cove on the river where dogs were running for sticks or swimming in the water, and then followed the creek path, catching glimpses of yachts and what looked like an oyster or mussel farm out in the main channel. Toward the end of the walk you come to the King Harry Ferry, which takes cars across to the Roseland Peninsula, saving them driving up around Truro and back down again. There’s always an expectant queue of cars here waiting for the ferry to float over to pick them up. Not that far from the car ferry I noticed a small path leading down to a wooden pontoon where you could pick up water taxis – and a clever system of flags for foot passengers to hoist to ‘call’ the right taxi or ferry over, depending on your intended destination. Btw, I soon regretted wandering down to the pontoon, off the main creek path as my feet were killing me, and it was a steep walk back up!
On the way home I got a text from my brother instructing me to pick pizza up for dinner, so I detoured to Sainsbury’s on the outskirts of Falmouth for a mini shop. Back at Mylor Bridge, my brother and his wife were getting ready to go out, saying they thought they’d walk up the hill to try and catch the Red Arrows, who were performing that night over Falmouth. I said I didn’t think I could manage another long walk after my marathon garden visits, so as a compromise, we decided to drive out of the village and and park on one of the quiet county lanes, then just take a short walk across the fields to a good vantage point.Despite being a couple of miles outside Falmouth, we had a pretty good view of the show, and the best bit was the arrival of the planes, which made their approach right over our heads, already in formation and at a very low altitude.Back at home we had slightly burnt pizza (my brother took a phone call as it was cooking and forgot about it!) but it was still very tasty.
I decided I’d have a day exploring gardens, namely Trelissick, which I often visit as I love to walk along the creek that marks the fringes of the estate, and Trebah, which I’ve never been to before. Both are within about 20 minutes of Mylor, and I picked Trebah as the first port of call. The satnav behaved impeccably this time, taking me confidently down narrow green lanes through villages with odd names like Mawnan Smith. There was plenty of parking at Trebah, and the staff on the tills did a good job of explaining the best route to walk round the garden, warning everyone to go to the loo first as there were none once you left the reception area!
Trebah is basically a deep gorge that cuts through the hill, all the way down to the Helford River. The gorge is planted with palms, tree ferns, giant cabbagey-looking plants (can you tell I’m not a botanist!), rhododendrons, camelias, bamboo, monkey puzzle and redwoods. There are several ponds – one with a topiary Loch Ness monster in the centre, and another dotted with lilypads, crossed by a white japanese-style bridge. Well signposted paths zig-zag along the gorge giving you a choice of walking routes, which can be cross-checked with the map you get given on entry. At the bottom of the gorge is a small beach and a kiosk selling cream teas and ice cream. I wasn’t intending to partake that early, but the ice cream flavour of the day – orange and mascarpone – seemed to have a mesmeric pull, and before I knew it I was digging into a tub of the stuff with a teeny blue plastic paddle.
Back up at the café and giftshop I bought some greetings cards with photos of coastal scenes, and perused the lunch menu, but ultimately decided to head elsewhere to be fed. The Ferry Boat Inn on Helford Passage had been recommended to me (tempura prawns, cornish crab brioche roll, mackeral tacos!) and I reset the satnav and guided my tiny Audi down a narrow lane down toward the water as intructed. Unfortunately, it soon became obvious to me that there wasn’t going to be anywhere to pull up – several cars queuing for the car park, and multiple vehicles already lining the verges - so I decided to head straight to Trelissick instead.
Trelissick sits on a headland on the River Fal and although there are ornamental gardens, I usually come just to walk along the creekside path. Before setting out on my now-familiar walk, I nipped into the cafe for a bowl of carrot and coriander soup, and homemade granary bread. In the same courtyard as the café there is a very nice art gallery, second-hand bookshop, and a nursery for container plants. After finishing my lunch, I headed downhill from the courtyard and Trelissick house, toward a small cove on the river where dogs were running for sticks or swimming in the water, and then followed the creek path, catching glimpses of yachts and what looked like an oyster or mussel farm out in the main channel. Toward the end of the walk you come to the King Harry Ferry, which takes cars across to the Roseland Peninsula, saving them driving up around Truro and back down again. There’s always an expectant queue of cars here waiting for the ferry to float over to pick them up. Not that far from the car ferry I noticed a small path leading down to a wooden pontoon where you could pick up water taxis – and a clever system of flags for foot passengers to hoist to ‘call’ the right taxi or ferry over, depending on your intended destination. Btw, I soon regretted wandering down to the pontoon, off the main creek path as my feet were killing me, and it was a steep walk back up!
On the way home I got a text from my brother instructing me to pick pizza up for dinner, so I detoured to Sainsbury’s on the outskirts of Falmouth for a mini shop. Back at Mylor Bridge, my brother and his wife were getting ready to go out, saying they thought they’d walk up the hill to try and catch the Red Arrows, who were performing that night over Falmouth. I said I didn’t think I could manage another long walk after my marathon garden visits, so as a compromise, we decided to drive out of the village and and park on one of the quiet county lanes, then just take a short walk across the fields to a good vantage point.Despite being a couple of miles outside Falmouth, we had a pretty good view of the show, and the best bit was the arrival of the planes, which made their approach right over our heads, already in formation and at a very low altitude.Back at home we had slightly burnt pizza (my brother took a phone call as it was cooking and forgot about it!) but it was still very tasty.
Last edited by RM67; Aug 27th, 2018 at 11:14 AM.
Aug 31st, 2018, 06:29 AM
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Wednesday
My brother and his wife had already gone into work by the time I got up on Wednesday (if I was less lazy I’d have probably set my alarm and been up to say goodbye) – but I did leave a small card thanking them for hosting me. The card was one of the ones I’d purchased at Trebah. It had a photo of a badger on, and seemed apt, as my brother’s wife is an ecologist/conservationist, and has participated in a number of studies monitoring badger populations.
I locked my case in the boot of the car and drove into Falmouth, heading for Gyllyngvase beach, which has a lovely café overlooking a sheltered, sandy cove. I’ve eaten here numerous times before, having partaken of breakfast and evening meals, but never lunch. The setting is glorious, especially when the sun is out, and the café has both indoor and outdoor seating, the outdoor area having ingenious electronic roof blinds that can be closed in inclement weather. I ordered a fish finger sandwich, but have to say, was a bit disappointed when comparing it to other dishes I’d eaten there. It was a huge sandwich, club style with layers of fish and saffron mayonnaise (which was lovely), but also bacon and salad and cheese, which seemed (to me at least) redundant. I could only manage half, and it was too messy to even think of taking the rest away for later. Despite lunch being a bit of a miss, service was nonetheless spot on as usual, and watching families building sandcastles on the beach, and a flotilla of distant yachts, like shark’s fins on the horizon, was nice and relaxing.
After lunch I moved the car to the Quarry Road carpark in Falmouth town centre and headed back to Café Ope, for a final flat white, sitting at the front window, watching passers-by coming out of the hairdressers, and boats tootling about across the water in Flushing.
I had intended that to be my lot, originally aiming to head home in the early afternoon, but as I was walking back to the carpark through an area lined with street food trucks, and an army recruitment stand and climbing wall(!) presumably set up for the Falmouth Festival Week, I spotted Falmouth Art Gallery (free to enter) and decided to nip in for a quick look round. I suppose I was expecting nautical themed artwork here, but actually there was an interesting temporary exhibition on, showing film cells and production drawings from movies such as The Corpse Bride, Fantastic Mr Fox, and Mars Attacks (I am a huge fan of Mars Attacks!). There was also an area dedicated to the Cabaret Mechanical Theatre, which visitors to London (or less likely, Southend) may already be familiar with. Basically, these are fabulous puppets that become animated when you press a button or turn a handle, beautifully detailed models, with quite an old-fashioned, Victorian feel. My favourite automaton was a model of Anubis the jackal, who drew a sausage on a sheet of paper at the desk in front of him when you pressed his button! I think you can buy copies of some of the automata in the giftshop, but I didn’t really have time to do any shopping as my car park ticket was due to expire any minute, so I headed off, for the long journey home. M5 and M4 again, with a break at one of the near identical and equally dire service stations for an ice cream at Burger King. 99p. Bargain!
My brother and his wife had already gone into work by the time I got up on Wednesday (if I was less lazy I’d have probably set my alarm and been up to say goodbye) – but I did leave a small card thanking them for hosting me. The card was one of the ones I’d purchased at Trebah. It had a photo of a badger on, and seemed apt, as my brother’s wife is an ecologist/conservationist, and has participated in a number of studies monitoring badger populations.
I locked my case in the boot of the car and drove into Falmouth, heading for Gyllyngvase beach, which has a lovely café overlooking a sheltered, sandy cove. I’ve eaten here numerous times before, having partaken of breakfast and evening meals, but never lunch. The setting is glorious, especially when the sun is out, and the café has both indoor and outdoor seating, the outdoor area having ingenious electronic roof blinds that can be closed in inclement weather. I ordered a fish finger sandwich, but have to say, was a bit disappointed when comparing it to other dishes I’d eaten there. It was a huge sandwich, club style with layers of fish and saffron mayonnaise (which was lovely), but also bacon and salad and cheese, which seemed (to me at least) redundant. I could only manage half, and it was too messy to even think of taking the rest away for later. Despite lunch being a bit of a miss, service was nonetheless spot on as usual, and watching families building sandcastles on the beach, and a flotilla of distant yachts, like shark’s fins on the horizon, was nice and relaxing.
After lunch I moved the car to the Quarry Road carpark in Falmouth town centre and headed back to Café Ope, for a final flat white, sitting at the front window, watching passers-by coming out of the hairdressers, and boats tootling about across the water in Flushing.
I had intended that to be my lot, originally aiming to head home in the early afternoon, but as I was walking back to the carpark through an area lined with street food trucks, and an army recruitment stand and climbing wall(!) presumably set up for the Falmouth Festival Week, I spotted Falmouth Art Gallery (free to enter) and decided to nip in for a quick look round. I suppose I was expecting nautical themed artwork here, but actually there was an interesting temporary exhibition on, showing film cells and production drawings from movies such as The Corpse Bride, Fantastic Mr Fox, and Mars Attacks (I am a huge fan of Mars Attacks!). There was also an area dedicated to the Cabaret Mechanical Theatre, which visitors to London (or less likely, Southend) may already be familiar with. Basically, these are fabulous puppets that become animated when you press a button or turn a handle, beautifully detailed models, with quite an old-fashioned, Victorian feel. My favourite automaton was a model of Anubis the jackal, who drew a sausage on a sheet of paper at the desk in front of him when you pressed his button! I think you can buy copies of some of the automata in the giftshop, but I didn’t really have time to do any shopping as my car park ticket was due to expire any minute, so I headed off, for the long journey home. M5 and M4 again, with a break at one of the near identical and equally dire service stations for an ice cream at Burger King. 99p. Bargain!
Last edited by RM67; Aug 31st, 2018 at 06:54 AM.
