Cornwall Without a Car--DONE!
Jul 11th, 2018, 03:20 AM
#21
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2008
Posts: 2,555
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Post Seven: Lanhydrock, Wadebridge and Padstow (plus a Bar Brawl)
Patrick and his wife Julie, owners of pencubitt-dinner.pdf, offered a simply lovely breakfast each morning. We learned not to eat Patrick's Full Cornish because it was so generous, so we leaned toward the Half Cornish and it was quite enough. Even though it was just the two of them doing the breakfast for all staying in the house, they managed to deliver endless pots of tea and French press coffee with their breakfast menu. Patrick also cooks a pencubitt-dinner.pdf nightly, which we never tried because we were always unsure where we'd be by dinner hour, and one has to reserve 24 hours in advance. We bet his meals are outstanding, though.
It was over our second pot of coffee that my husband and I were deciding, iPads in front of us, the best way to do the Bodmin and Wenford Railway, a private line that hooks up directly across from the GWR line at Bodmin Parkway. We were not able to book the tickets online for some reason, so we called the office to see if we could buy them over the phone. That would be a "No." We consulted each other on the timing again. Then both of us looked outside. It was a simply stunning day. Why not visit Landydrock House, one of the other options on our list? We could get there well before opening time and have a treat of a walk to do so. Then we could make up our minds about the Bodmin and Wenford Railway when we got back to the Bodmin Parkway Rail Station.
So we packed up (this was a good day to have a pair of extra shoes, insoles and socks plus a few layers) and hit the railway. The trail head from the Bodmin Parkway rail stop was not hard to find, and soon we were enjoying a gorgeous, mostly woodland walk at what has to be the prettiest time of the year. The 1.9 mile walk was not hard at all until near the end, and we arrived just in time to visit the outdoor cafe area for a cappuccino. And there were Westies! No, dogs are not allowed inside the house; but they ARE allowed onto the extensive grounds.
My husband and I both enjoyed our visit to the house (tip: get there early or at the end of the day--the place fills up). The curators had cleverly staged the house as though the family had just stepped out, and in addition, they had created "shadows" in certain rooms that represented the lifelong servants responsible for the residents' way of life. Biographies of those servants were displayed in different areas of the house. Our favorite room? Well, it was rooms--the extensive kitchen area was stunning, and the curated display in that area was first class.
We stopped at the cafe again for some water, getting to meet a few more Westies in the bargain, and then headed back down to the trail. We arrived at the rail station just as the steam engine version of the Bodmin and Wenford train was pulling in. Do we buy or not buy? We decided against it, and I have no real idea why. I guess since we had already seen Bodmin, we felt as though we were a little "been there, done that." We do love steam trains, though. I guess we were not in the mood.
We checked the bus schedule from the rail station and decided to head for Padstow, buying a ride-all-day ticket for two just in case we wanted to hop on and off at various locations. It was a gorgeous bus ride, and it was our first experience of seeing just how impassable some areas of the roads were for not only a car and the bus to pass each other, but also for the bus to make it through some tight spots. The roads looked so much like ones we'd have wished to cycle, only there was just no way we'd feel safe at the speeds everyone was driving around blind curves. We got to chatting with other riders, and some of them mentioned that they never see American tourists on buses. One wanted to know if Americans ever rode buses! My husband assured them he rode at least one every day, explaining that since we downsized from the suburbs to a city apartment, we ditched one car, too, because of the every-five-minutes available transport.
We asked them about cyclists. We had been thinking about cycling that morning because the Landhydrock trail would have been a perfect little destination ride, but we hadn't seen any cyclists other than families who were training their kids to ride in flat spots. "Well, you're in luck", a passenger said. "We'll be coming onto the best cycle path in Cornwall soon." Sure enough, we came upon the Camel Trail. We made a note that we might want to do this the next day--apparently one could rent bikes along the way.
We almost got off at Wadebridge because the town is so darn cute. Liskeard certainly is not that pretty; Bodmin was just OK; Wadebridge was simply lovely. We thought, "Heck, we'll have time on the way back from Padstow." Once we got off in Padstow, we met a few cyclists sitting on a bench, ones who seemed to be more than just the casual weekend riders. We asked them what road routes they tended to do in Cornwall, and they started laughing. "We do it," said one, "but you really have to be in a group and take over the road." Another added that they had some great back road routes, but even those were iffy at times. He said that he has no fear of cycling in mid-town traffic in London--there's a healthy respect for cyclists there--but one never knows the "share the road" intent or experience of the driver here. We agreed it was a shame--the scenery was simply crying out for exploration by cycle.
We headed into the harbor shops area (the bus drops one off near the Rick's Stein complex) and got our first impressions: It was more of an upscale version of Looe. It was certainly scenic, because the commercial area surrounds the moored sailboats, and it felt safer and less hectic with the general absence of cars.
OK--I'm going to admit it. I was tired. The Landydrock walk (almost four miles once one counts the back and forth) had reminded my feet of some problems, I was hungry, I was hot and I sure was ready for a beer. We found a St Austell's pub, the Old Custom House, so I could start downing Korev Lager at my leisure. We found a nice table with perfect people watching and outside view access, plus with a good path to the bar. Determined to rest for a bit, I pulled out my Kindle and totally chilled. My husband enjoyed the house WIFI for a bit too. However, we made the mistake of ordering food. It looked good; it just wasn't. I wish we had saved our belly room for take-out at the Rick Stein's near our bus stop.
Soon it was time to leave. We took a few moments to enter the "National" Lobster Hatchery, which was a tad underwhelming, but hey, it used up our remaining time. Or so we thought. Our bus never came. At least we were two adults on our own. Families with young babies, people in wheelchairs, etc were all more or less stranded for an hour. By the time we got the next bus, we gave no more thought to stopping in Wadebridge. Heck, we decided not to stop at our origin point of Bodmin Railway. Instead, we opted to stay on the bus all the way to Liskeard. Yes, it ended up being another mistake.
Had we arrived in Liskeard midday or a bit later on June 20th, we would have seen The Furry Dance. But we had arrived on June 21, and somehow missed the posting for the Grand Carnival Parade. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, the bus driver announced, "End of the line. No buses further because of the parade." Thank goodness our phones, even with data shut off and no WiFi, have operating GPS locators, and we could see where in the heck we were. We decided on our trek to town, then to the rail station and then back to Pencubitt House.
The parade had been over for quite some time, so the bus certainly could have gone through town. "Parched" from our long trek from the drop-off, we decided to drop in again at the King Doniert Pub, which was packed to the gills, mostly with families with young children. Near the entrance, I saw a young woman in tears, and I asked if she was OK. Next thing I knew, the bouncer pushed past me, disappeared into the crowd, and soon emerged dragging a screaming young man backwards by the shoulder and neck. On the way out the door, the young man picked up a glass from a table and smashed it over the bouncer's head. My husband and I were showered with glass. Two people leapt immediately up from their tables and brought the young man down to the ground and held him there. Later, we would find out all the details online. Let's just say we skipped the beer, headed towards our home (making sure to wave to "our" doggy in the window again ), and had a beer with Patrick at the house bar. As we told him, in all of our years in bars, we'd never been in a fight. It was exciting for us, but I'm sure the bouncer would rather have skipped the experience.
Lessons Re-Learned:
Patrick and his wife Julie, owners of pencubitt-dinner.pdf, offered a simply lovely breakfast each morning. We learned not to eat Patrick's Full Cornish because it was so generous, so we leaned toward the Half Cornish and it was quite enough. Even though it was just the two of them doing the breakfast for all staying in the house, they managed to deliver endless pots of tea and French press coffee with their breakfast menu. Patrick also cooks a pencubitt-dinner.pdf nightly, which we never tried because we were always unsure where we'd be by dinner hour, and one has to reserve 24 hours in advance. We bet his meals are outstanding, though.
It was over our second pot of coffee that my husband and I were deciding, iPads in front of us, the best way to do the Bodmin and Wenford Railway, a private line that hooks up directly across from the GWR line at Bodmin Parkway. We were not able to book the tickets online for some reason, so we called the office to see if we could buy them over the phone. That would be a "No." We consulted each other on the timing again. Then both of us looked outside. It was a simply stunning day. Why not visit Landydrock House, one of the other options on our list? We could get there well before opening time and have a treat of a walk to do so. Then we could make up our minds about the Bodmin and Wenford Railway when we got back to the Bodmin Parkway Rail Station.
So we packed up (this was a good day to have a pair of extra shoes, insoles and socks plus a few layers) and hit the railway. The trail head from the Bodmin Parkway rail stop was not hard to find, and soon we were enjoying a gorgeous, mostly woodland walk at what has to be the prettiest time of the year. The 1.9 mile walk was not hard at all until near the end, and we arrived just in time to visit the outdoor cafe area for a cappuccino. And there were Westies! No, dogs are not allowed inside the house; but they ARE allowed onto the extensive grounds.
My husband and I both enjoyed our visit to the house (tip: get there early or at the end of the day--the place fills up). The curators had cleverly staged the house as though the family had just stepped out, and in addition, they had created "shadows" in certain rooms that represented the lifelong servants responsible for the residents' way of life. Biographies of those servants were displayed in different areas of the house. Our favorite room? Well, it was rooms--the extensive kitchen area was stunning, and the curated display in that area was first class.
We stopped at the cafe again for some water, getting to meet a few more Westies in the bargain, and then headed back down to the trail. We arrived at the rail station just as the steam engine version of the Bodmin and Wenford train was pulling in. Do we buy or not buy? We decided against it, and I have no real idea why. I guess since we had already seen Bodmin, we felt as though we were a little "been there, done that." We do love steam trains, though. I guess we were not in the mood.
We checked the bus schedule from the rail station and decided to head for Padstow, buying a ride-all-day ticket for two just in case we wanted to hop on and off at various locations. It was a gorgeous bus ride, and it was our first experience of seeing just how impassable some areas of the roads were for not only a car and the bus to pass each other, but also for the bus to make it through some tight spots. The roads looked so much like ones we'd have wished to cycle, only there was just no way we'd feel safe at the speeds everyone was driving around blind curves. We got to chatting with other riders, and some of them mentioned that they never see American tourists on buses. One wanted to know if Americans ever rode buses! My husband assured them he rode at least one every day, explaining that since we downsized from the suburbs to a city apartment, we ditched one car, too, because of the every-five-minutes available transport.
We asked them about cyclists. We had been thinking about cycling that morning because the Landhydrock trail would have been a perfect little destination ride, but we hadn't seen any cyclists other than families who were training their kids to ride in flat spots. "Well, you're in luck", a passenger said. "We'll be coming onto the best cycle path in Cornwall soon." Sure enough, we came upon the Camel Trail. We made a note that we might want to do this the next day--apparently one could rent bikes along the way.
We almost got off at Wadebridge because the town is so darn cute. Liskeard certainly is not that pretty; Bodmin was just OK; Wadebridge was simply lovely. We thought, "Heck, we'll have time on the way back from Padstow." Once we got off in Padstow, we met a few cyclists sitting on a bench, ones who seemed to be more than just the casual weekend riders. We asked them what road routes they tended to do in Cornwall, and they started laughing. "We do it," said one, "but you really have to be in a group and take over the road." Another added that they had some great back road routes, but even those were iffy at times. He said that he has no fear of cycling in mid-town traffic in London--there's a healthy respect for cyclists there--but one never knows the "share the road" intent or experience of the driver here. We agreed it was a shame--the scenery was simply crying out for exploration by cycle.
We headed into the harbor shops area (the bus drops one off near the Rick's Stein complex) and got our first impressions: It was more of an upscale version of Looe. It was certainly scenic, because the commercial area surrounds the moored sailboats, and it felt safer and less hectic with the general absence of cars.
OK--I'm going to admit it. I was tired. The Landydrock walk (almost four miles once one counts the back and forth) had reminded my feet of some problems, I was hungry, I was hot and I sure was ready for a beer. We found a St Austell's pub, the Old Custom House, so I could start downing Korev Lager at my leisure. We found a nice table with perfect people watching and outside view access, plus with a good path to the bar. Determined to rest for a bit, I pulled out my Kindle and totally chilled. My husband enjoyed the house WIFI for a bit too. However, we made the mistake of ordering food. It looked good; it just wasn't. I wish we had saved our belly room for take-out at the Rick Stein's near our bus stop.
Soon it was time to leave. We took a few moments to enter the "National" Lobster Hatchery, which was a tad underwhelming, but hey, it used up our remaining time. Or so we thought. Our bus never came. At least we were two adults on our own. Families with young babies, people in wheelchairs, etc were all more or less stranded for an hour. By the time we got the next bus, we gave no more thought to stopping in Wadebridge. Heck, we decided not to stop at our origin point of Bodmin Railway. Instead, we opted to stay on the bus all the way to Liskeard. Yes, it ended up being another mistake.
Had we arrived in Liskeard midday or a bit later on June 20th, we would have seen The Furry Dance. But we had arrived on June 21, and somehow missed the posting for the Grand Carnival Parade. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, the bus driver announced, "End of the line. No buses further because of the parade." Thank goodness our phones, even with data shut off and no WiFi, have operating GPS locators, and we could see where in the heck we were. We decided on our trek to town, then to the rail station and then back to Pencubitt House.
The parade had been over for quite some time, so the bus certainly could have gone through town. "Parched" from our long trek from the drop-off, we decided to drop in again at the King Doniert Pub, which was packed to the gills, mostly with families with young children. Near the entrance, I saw a young woman in tears, and I asked if she was OK. Next thing I knew, the bouncer pushed past me, disappeared into the crowd, and soon emerged dragging a screaming young man backwards by the shoulder and neck. On the way out the door, the young man picked up a glass from a table and smashed it over the bouncer's head. My husband and I were showered with glass. Two people leapt immediately up from their tables and brought the young man down to the ground and held him there. Later, we would find out all the details online. Let's just say we skipped the beer, headed towards our home (making sure to wave to "our" doggy in the window again ), and had a beer with Patrick at the house bar. As we told him, in all of our years in bars, we'd never been in a fight. It was exciting for us, but I'm sure the bouncer would rather have skipped the experience.
Lessons Re-Learned:
- Do ask as soon as one arrives what's going on in town
- Check out possible cycle trails and bike rentals in the area
- Watch out for flying glass
Last edited by AlessandraZoe; Jul 11th, 2018 at 03:30 AM.
Jul 11th, 2018, 05:21 AM
#23
No, your comments on Looe were spot on but failed to mention the seagulls snatching food from hands etc
Just to amuse
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cornwall-18350454
Just to amuse
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cornwall-18350454
Jul 11th, 2018, 07:03 AM
#24
Seagulls are a perennial problem in Cornwall and Devon [don't try to eat an ice-cream or chips outside in St Ives or Dartmouth!] but pub glassings are blessedly rather less common possibly because the miscreants can expect to go to jail - the suspect was lucky to get bail. Did you offer yourselves as witnesses?
I'm sorry you missed Wadebridge but to my mind it is nowhere as pretty as Fowey or even Falmouth.
And if you will forgive my being picky, it's actually Church Cove at Gunwalloe which is a lovely spot, not least because it has ample car parking [sorry!] and a very nice beach cafe.
That dinner menu looks good - nothing novel but all good home cooking by the looks of it.
Where next I wonder?
I'm sorry you missed Wadebridge but to my mind it is nowhere as pretty as Fowey or even Falmouth.
And if you will forgive my being picky, it's actually Church Cove at Gunwalloe which is a lovely spot, not least because it has ample car parking [sorry!] and a very nice beach cafe.
That dinner menu looks good - nothing novel but all good home cooking by the looks of it.
Where next I wonder?
Jul 11th, 2018, 08:54 AM
#25
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2008
Posts: 2,555
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
bilboburgler: We would get to see GREAT seagull thefts in St Ives, but we would first get to see all the most amazing seagull action/reaction in Falmouth, where people were actually armed with huge water guns in defense. More on that later.
As far as the bar, we had felt rather uneasy when we had dropped by the King Doniert a day or two prior. The people near the front were happy, little families enjoying meals. This was "booster-seat city" there. Hanging near the left side of the long bar and the area out back were nice sorts of guys, ones who looked settled and happy in life. And then there was a corner of nothing but young people. My husband and I had been high school teachers eons ago when there used to be designated smoking rest rooms to keep the smoke stink out of nice rest rooms. The kids in that corner looked EXACTLY like the ones who would have hung around in those rest rooms, ones who smoked more than cigarettes and had little alternative drug assists in their pockets.
We were therefore not surprised when trouble came. We just had never expected to be in the midst of it--especially since we certainly would not be venturing into that corner.
At least in "our day" of encountering drugs with our students, we were not dealing with heroin and Oxycontin. Meth addiction was just starting. This current opioid epidemic leaves no one immune from personal disaster in so many countries.
Annhig: Actually, we were surprised that no police seemed to come. We did stick around--not for beer, but in case management wanted to talk to people--until we ourselves became uneasy. But no person in management seemed to notice the glass on us. They were pretty worried about the bleeding of the bouncer, and they were very worried about containing bubbling anger. One problem seemed to be that the adults who had intervened had ideas of their own (they seemed to be quite upset that this guy had ruined their meals and had upset their kiddies). The guy's friends as a result seemed to be doing a stupid think about a counter-attack. My husband took one more look around the room, sized up the situation and said, "Let's get out of here before we get caught up in personal arguments we know nothing about." There certainly were enough witnesses--ones with better views but with less glass on them--but I would have stepped forward had I known they were calling for them. I'm still Dudley Do-Right, much to my husband's dismay (you know, that horrible child that sits in the first row and tells the teacher, "You gave me credit for an answer that was wrong." Pitiful). The fact is that we did not think to check online to see if there was anyone had reported it until we were in a London pub on our way home.
But I have to share one more thought: My husband and I both said--Thank God there were NO guns. We live in a state of the US where it's not common to "carry", but had this happened in an area where it was common, we and little kiddies could have been dead. We thank you!!!!!
Post Eight will be...TRURO!!!!!
As far as the bar, we had felt rather uneasy when we had dropped by the King Doniert a day or two prior. The people near the front were happy, little families enjoying meals. This was "booster-seat city" there. Hanging near the left side of the long bar and the area out back were nice sorts of guys, ones who looked settled and happy in life. And then there was a corner of nothing but young people. My husband and I had been high school teachers eons ago when there used to be designated smoking rest rooms to keep the smoke stink out of nice rest rooms. The kids in that corner looked EXACTLY like the ones who would have hung around in those rest rooms, ones who smoked more than cigarettes and had little alternative drug assists in their pockets.
We were therefore not surprised when trouble came. We just had never expected to be in the midst of it--especially since we certainly would not be venturing into that corner.
At least in "our day" of encountering drugs with our students, we were not dealing with heroin and Oxycontin. Meth addiction was just starting. This current opioid epidemic leaves no one immune from personal disaster in so many countries.
Annhig: Actually, we were surprised that no police seemed to come. We did stick around--not for beer, but in case management wanted to talk to people--until we ourselves became uneasy. But no person in management seemed to notice the glass on us. They were pretty worried about the bleeding of the bouncer, and they were very worried about containing bubbling anger. One problem seemed to be that the adults who had intervened had ideas of their own (they seemed to be quite upset that this guy had ruined their meals and had upset their kiddies). The guy's friends as a result seemed to be doing a stupid think about a counter-attack. My husband took one more look around the room, sized up the situation and said, "Let's get out of here before we get caught up in personal arguments we know nothing about." There certainly were enough witnesses--ones with better views but with less glass on them--but I would have stepped forward had I known they were calling for them. I'm still Dudley Do-Right, much to my husband's dismay (you know, that horrible child that sits in the first row and tells the teacher, "You gave me credit for an answer that was wrong." Pitiful). The fact is that we did not think to check online to see if there was anyone had reported it until we were in a London pub on our way home.
But I have to share one more thought: My husband and I both said--Thank God there were NO guns. We live in a state of the US where it's not common to "carry", but had this happened in an area where it was common, we and little kiddies could have been dead. We thank you!!!!!
Post Eight will be...TRURO!!!!!
Jul 11th, 2018, 10:32 AM
#26
Join Date: Jun 2008
Posts: 29,599
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Just finding this and may I offer so many bravas, AlessandraZoe! DH and I used public trans except for one hired driver in all our Italy and France trips. Taxis as we got older. Looking forward to Truro.
Jul 11th, 2018, 01:36 PM
#27
<<At least in "our day" of encountering drugs with our students, we were not dealing with heroin and Oxycontin. Meth addiction was just starting. This current opioid epidemic leaves no one immune from personal disaster in so many countries.>>
There are undoubtedly people with drugs problems in all parts of Cornwall, quite often in places that visitors would not necessarily expect, but what you describe sounded like alcohol-fuelled violence to me. I would estimate that in my 20 years working in the family courts of Cornwall I did 9 cases where alcohol was the problem to every 1 where it was drugs. What with the Furry Day the day before and the parade on the day you were there, they had probably been drinking off and on for 24 hours or so. And yes, thank god these idiots don't normally have access to firearms, though I do remember a colleague telling me about one incident where the accused entered the pub, aimed his shotgun at his rival in love whose hair he parted with the shot, and then calmly sat down at the bar to await the arrival of the cops. And making yourselves scarce was obviously the right thing to do in those circumstances.
Roll on [more civilised] Truro!
There are undoubtedly people with drugs problems in all parts of Cornwall, quite often in places that visitors would not necessarily expect, but what you describe sounded like alcohol-fuelled violence to me. I would estimate that in my 20 years working in the family courts of Cornwall I did 9 cases where alcohol was the problem to every 1 where it was drugs. What with the Furry Day the day before and the parade on the day you were there, they had probably been drinking off and on for 24 hours or so. And yes, thank god these idiots don't normally have access to firearms, though I do remember a colleague telling me about one incident where the accused entered the pub, aimed his shotgun at his rival in love whose hair he parted with the shot, and then calmly sat down at the bar to await the arrival of the cops. And making yourselves scarce was obviously the right thing to do in those circumstances.
Roll on [more civilised] Truro!
Jul 11th, 2018, 08:51 PM
#28
Join Date: Jan 2003
Posts: 8,345
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Hi AlessandraZoe,
So happy you are reporting on a trip without a car... and where folks have told you that you'd "need" a car!! In living in Germany more than 9 years without a car, I've done the same -- to Provence, Umbria, the Black Forest, and the Cote d'Azur (I frequently travel in Germany, in Switzerland, and through France into Paris without a car, but that's not uncommon). Thank you for your report!
s
So happy you are reporting on a trip without a car... and where folks have told you that you'd "need" a car!! In living in Germany more than 9 years without a car, I've done the same -- to Provence, Umbria, the Black Forest, and the Cote d'Azur (I frequently travel in Germany, in Switzerland, and through France into Paris without a car, but that's not uncommon). Thank you for your report!
s
Jul 11th, 2018, 10:11 PM
#29
Join Date: Aug 2005
Posts: 3,896
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
I think it's great you found a driver and made your trip work for you. For urban vacations, we always take the bus, train or taxis. We drove on a to England and Scotland and I really didn't enjoy it. Also telling, when we turned the car in, the rental guy must have studied our car for 10 minutes looking for dings. I suspect that most Americans do, being on the wrong side of the road.
Looking forward to the rest of your report!
Looking forward to the rest of your report!
Jul 12th, 2018, 05:35 AM
#30
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2008
Posts: 2,555
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Hey folks, I'm packing up shop to head out of town. First grandchild on the way! So my Truro post will be delayed.
But while I so appreciate so many of the kind and often funny comments about our foregoing a car, I so hope that I am not giving the impression that I feel superior for doing so. We certainly rented a car whenever we toured the American West, the coasts of California, the islands of Hawaii and so on. The freedom a car gave us in places like that is treasured. But when the kids were little around 20 years ago and we were doing a scenic tour of the Loire, my husband turned to me and said, "I never want to rent a car in Europe again. I hate it." It was from that point on we sought ways to avoid doing so.
There were car rentals after my husband's blanket protest. We rented a car to do the North Island of New Zealand after our South Island biking trip. It was tense driving, but having a car allowed my husband to experience the cute little golf courses up there, so there was a trade-off that even he would admit to enjoying. I also regressed later on with my Costa Rica planning. We had taken a Multi-Sport Backroads tour, and we ended the trip with about 5 or so days of car rental. Again, my husband hated every single second on the road. When we used a guide there, a nature specialist, to tour one of the national parks, my husband and he became pals. The guide told my husband that he could have picked us up at the airport and arranged any other major transport for the entire trip for the same price or less of the car rental cost. My husband turned to me and said, "Write this down. I NEVER WANT TO RENT A CAR on these trips."
That's more or less why we had to do Cornwall without a car. One just becomes creative--or gets divorced.
Later! I am taking my iPad, on which I hate to type, and hope to do entries while waiting for the grandbaby to make her fabulous entrance.
But while I so appreciate so many of the kind and often funny comments about our foregoing a car, I so hope that I am not giving the impression that I feel superior for doing so. We certainly rented a car whenever we toured the American West, the coasts of California, the islands of Hawaii and so on. The freedom a car gave us in places like that is treasured. But when the kids were little around 20 years ago and we were doing a scenic tour of the Loire, my husband turned to me and said, "I never want to rent a car in Europe again. I hate it." It was from that point on we sought ways to avoid doing so.
There were car rentals after my husband's blanket protest. We rented a car to do the North Island of New Zealand after our South Island biking trip. It was tense driving, but having a car allowed my husband to experience the cute little golf courses up there, so there was a trade-off that even he would admit to enjoying. I also regressed later on with my Costa Rica planning. We had taken a Multi-Sport Backroads tour, and we ended the trip with about 5 or so days of car rental. Again, my husband hated every single second on the road. When we used a guide there, a nature specialist, to tour one of the national parks, my husband and he became pals. The guide told my husband that he could have picked us up at the airport and arranged any other major transport for the entire trip for the same price or less of the car rental cost. My husband turned to me and said, "Write this down. I NEVER WANT TO RENT A CAR on these trips."
That's more or less why we had to do Cornwall without a car. One just becomes creative--or gets divorced.
Later! I am taking my iPad, on which I hate to type, and hope to do entries while waiting for the grandbaby to make her fabulous entrance.
Jul 13th, 2018, 05:11 AM
#31
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2008
Posts: 2,555
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Post Eight: A Day in Truro
We again rose to bright sunshine and chattering birds—swifts had taken up residence in the eaves—at Pencubbitt House. I knew I was going to miss this place.
Over breakfast, we explored the idea of heading to Truro first thing, then on the way back, hitting the Par to Newquay rail line.
The Truro leg would be close to 1 hr away, and the insane thing is that we would be going there anyway the next day on our way to our next 3-day “pit stop” in Falmouth. However, we would have our luggage with us, and left luggage facilities are a thing of the past. I had looked for hotels near the rail station that we could bribe to hold the stuff, but nothing seemed to be nearby. So if we wanted to see Truro, we’d have to do so either from our Liskeard stay or our Falmouth stay.
We had the time that morning and we also had the inclination. Our Truro goals? The Royal Cornwall Museum and the Truro Cathedral.
The day was heating up. The nice weather had turned to flat-out hot, even by the time we walked up our shady lane to the rail station. We noted that our adopted dog was not on sentry duty, but we soon found out why. He was taking a walk along the rail line with his mistress. We had time to stop and chat, remarking on his brilliant silent guardat the house, and how unusual it was to see him acting like a regular dog, sniffing and exploring with wagging tail. I’m serious—it’s like the dog had decided his every waking hour was to be alert to possible danger. He had never growled at us, but he made clear he would make a good witness for the prosecution.
Our time on the train went fast. We had really been able to make use of the GWR wireless on our phones, plus I had brought my Kindle. My next post should be on what I was reading.
As we neared Truro, I blinked my eyes. I could see the spire(s) of the cathedral, but I think for the first time in my life, I was seeing spires almost BELOW me. It’s funny how one just isn’t mentally prepared for the geographic settings of some towns. Truro was sort of in a landscape dip.
We studied the town map outside the station, and headed in the right direction down the steep hill. Soon we were entering The Royal Cornwall Musuem. Before we “got to work”, we entered the very nice cafe for an equally nice cappuccino. There was one cafe area that was similar to a Starbucks or bookshop cafe, and we settled in to wait for our coffees to be delivered. Apparently, this cafe is some sort of town hangout. A lovely older gentlemen struck up a conversation, asking us why we came to Cornwall, and so on. Two older ladies joined in the chat soon, and we were getting all types of touring advice and comments. We rather reluctantly returned to getting into the museum.
But we are glad we did. It’s not an overwhelmingly large museum, but there are so many nooks and crannies to explore. Soon we were on the top floor in a corner watching a PhD student from Chicago brushing what just appeared to be a slab of stone. Closer examination showed the outline of a skeletal human hand. Her story was that she had accepted a summer fellowship here because of all the archeological and anthropological archives. She had found this specific slab on a shelf that dated back to a Cornwall dig in around 1910 or so. When she asked the museum administration if she could start to work on it, they asked her if she’d be willing to “go live.” She happily agreed.
We saw rooms on Cornwall nature, displays of ancient Cornwall history, and of course, a wonderful room on mining and minerals of Cornwall. Note, though, that I still enjoyed that little mining room in Liseard Museum more.
We think our favorite exhibit, though, was the Cornwall painting exhibit. And I am still kicking myself for not buying a print in the gift shop of my favorite work, “A Jubilee Procession in a Cornish Village” by Hunter. It has just been recently restored from its cracked and dull appearance to a now glorious, luminescent work, one I’m having a hard time finding online to show you. I don’t seem to be able to order one online from the museum, but I shall contact them directly and hope for the best.
After two hours in the museum, our feet were starting to feel it. We stopped in the cafe again for some water, rested a bit, and then headed down the street to The Truro Cathedral.
While the cathedral is a lovely building and while we enjoyed sitting in on a quite impressive mid-afternoon organ recital, we can’t say we’d put this cathedral on our Top 25 Cathedral lists. What I certainly gained, though, from the visit, was incentive to research more about John Wesley. There is a glorious stained window devoted to him there, and I was trying to wrap my mind around the fact that this founder of the Methodist Church was an Anglican priest until the day he died.
For all you Methodists out there, I really knew nothing about Wesley other than the fact that a) my father had been brought up a Methodist, b) my paternal aunt was still a Methodist and c) there seemed to be a lot of hymns associated with this church branch. I also knew that being a Methodist really did help my English ancestors leave the coal mines of England to get to the coal mines of the America. They never spent money on drink, and they practiced moderation in all things. Thus while my grandfather had to mine, neither of his sons did: they were able to get college educations.
But those facts—and the curious fact that my mother had insisted on a Methodist cross upon my father’s grave—were about all I, a lifelong Presbyterian, knew. I would be finding out a bit more day by day, and you better believe that on our way back from Truro, my phone WiFi would be used to read up on John Wesley.
We left the church and explored the shopping district a bit. There were some good buskers on a corner we enjoyed, and then we found a little pub for a mid-afternoon libation. We decided our “museum feet” had had enough, and we headed up the hill for the rail station.
If we had been staying in Truro and had I been able to park my husband somewhere for the duration, I would have had the incentive to visit the headquarters of The Cornwall Family History Society. I actually am a member of CFHS, and I could have made an appointment (and who knows, perhaps I could have gained research access to the Courtney Library inside The Royal Cornwall Museum). I truly did consider doing all of that, but my husband does not have the same interest as I. He’s enjoyed the fruits of my online research, and in his mind, our Altarnun day was enough genealogy for the trip.
That night, we went back to Daddio’s in Liskeard for more Turkish food, gave the King Doniert pub a pass on our walk back, waved to our pup doing sentry in his window, and went to bed.
Coming up at some point: Post Nine: Falmouth and Sea Shanties
We again rose to bright sunshine and chattering birds—swifts had taken up residence in the eaves—at Pencubbitt House. I knew I was going to miss this place.
Over breakfast, we explored the idea of heading to Truro first thing, then on the way back, hitting the Par to Newquay rail line.
The Truro leg would be close to 1 hr away, and the insane thing is that we would be going there anyway the next day on our way to our next 3-day “pit stop” in Falmouth. However, we would have our luggage with us, and left luggage facilities are a thing of the past. I had looked for hotels near the rail station that we could bribe to hold the stuff, but nothing seemed to be nearby. So if we wanted to see Truro, we’d have to do so either from our Liskeard stay or our Falmouth stay.
We had the time that morning and we also had the inclination. Our Truro goals? The Royal Cornwall Museum and the Truro Cathedral.
The day was heating up. The nice weather had turned to flat-out hot, even by the time we walked up our shady lane to the rail station. We noted that our adopted dog was not on sentry duty, but we soon found out why. He was taking a walk along the rail line with his mistress. We had time to stop and chat, remarking on his brilliant silent guardat the house, and how unusual it was to see him acting like a regular dog, sniffing and exploring with wagging tail. I’m serious—it’s like the dog had decided his every waking hour was to be alert to possible danger. He had never growled at us, but he made clear he would make a good witness for the prosecution.
Our time on the train went fast. We had really been able to make use of the GWR wireless on our phones, plus I had brought my Kindle. My next post should be on what I was reading.
As we neared Truro, I blinked my eyes. I could see the spire(s) of the cathedral, but I think for the first time in my life, I was seeing spires almost BELOW me. It’s funny how one just isn’t mentally prepared for the geographic settings of some towns. Truro was sort of in a landscape dip.
We studied the town map outside the station, and headed in the right direction down the steep hill. Soon we were entering The Royal Cornwall Musuem. Before we “got to work”, we entered the very nice cafe for an equally nice cappuccino. There was one cafe area that was similar to a Starbucks or bookshop cafe, and we settled in to wait for our coffees to be delivered. Apparently, this cafe is some sort of town hangout. A lovely older gentlemen struck up a conversation, asking us why we came to Cornwall, and so on. Two older ladies joined in the chat soon, and we were getting all types of touring advice and comments. We rather reluctantly returned to getting into the museum.
But we are glad we did. It’s not an overwhelmingly large museum, but there are so many nooks and crannies to explore. Soon we were on the top floor in a corner watching a PhD student from Chicago brushing what just appeared to be a slab of stone. Closer examination showed the outline of a skeletal human hand. Her story was that she had accepted a summer fellowship here because of all the archeological and anthropological archives. She had found this specific slab on a shelf that dated back to a Cornwall dig in around 1910 or so. When she asked the museum administration if she could start to work on it, they asked her if she’d be willing to “go live.” She happily agreed.
We saw rooms on Cornwall nature, displays of ancient Cornwall history, and of course, a wonderful room on mining and minerals of Cornwall. Note, though, that I still enjoyed that little mining room in Liseard Museum more.
We think our favorite exhibit, though, was the Cornwall painting exhibit. And I am still kicking myself for not buying a print in the gift shop of my favorite work, “A Jubilee Procession in a Cornish Village” by Hunter. It has just been recently restored from its cracked and dull appearance to a now glorious, luminescent work, one I’m having a hard time finding online to show you. I don’t seem to be able to order one online from the museum, but I shall contact them directly and hope for the best.
After two hours in the museum, our feet were starting to feel it. We stopped in the cafe again for some water, rested a bit, and then headed down the street to The Truro Cathedral.
While the cathedral is a lovely building and while we enjoyed sitting in on a quite impressive mid-afternoon organ recital, we can’t say we’d put this cathedral on our Top 25 Cathedral lists. What I certainly gained, though, from the visit, was incentive to research more about John Wesley. There is a glorious stained window devoted to him there, and I was trying to wrap my mind around the fact that this founder of the Methodist Church was an Anglican priest until the day he died.
For all you Methodists out there, I really knew nothing about Wesley other than the fact that a) my father had been brought up a Methodist, b) my paternal aunt was still a Methodist and c) there seemed to be a lot of hymns associated with this church branch. I also knew that being a Methodist really did help my English ancestors leave the coal mines of England to get to the coal mines of the America. They never spent money on drink, and they practiced moderation in all things. Thus while my grandfather had to mine, neither of his sons did: they were able to get college educations.
But those facts—and the curious fact that my mother had insisted on a Methodist cross upon my father’s grave—were about all I, a lifelong Presbyterian, knew. I would be finding out a bit more day by day, and you better believe that on our way back from Truro, my phone WiFi would be used to read up on John Wesley.
We left the church and explored the shopping district a bit. There were some good buskers on a corner we enjoyed, and then we found a little pub for a mid-afternoon libation. We decided our “museum feet” had had enough, and we headed up the hill for the rail station.
If we had been staying in Truro and had I been able to park my husband somewhere for the duration, I would have had the incentive to visit the headquarters of The Cornwall Family History Society. I actually am a member of CFHS, and I could have made an appointment (and who knows, perhaps I could have gained research access to the Courtney Library inside The Royal Cornwall Museum). I truly did consider doing all of that, but my husband does not have the same interest as I. He’s enjoyed the fruits of my online research, and in his mind, our Altarnun day was enough genealogy for the trip.
That night, we went back to Daddio’s in Liskeard for more Turkish food, gave the King Doniert pub a pass on our walk back, waved to our pup doing sentry in his window, and went to bed.
Coming up at some point: Post Nine: Falmouth and Sea Shanties
Last edited by AlessandraZoe; Jul 13th, 2018 at 06:08 AM.
Jul 13th, 2018, 06:11 AM
#32
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2008
Posts: 2,555
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Interruption Post: My Reading Before and During the Trip
I always love to read books about locales we’ll be visiting both before and during touring. After I got the GSM Kindle that could download a book anywhere without the need for WiFI—even on a Turkish gullet—it became easy to read about or hear a book suggestion and get it on the spot.
I had bought two hard copy guide books (neither of which I packed; instead, I later downloaded the Kindle versions). I had also purchased several historical Cassini maps from the CFHS. Those were not as helpful as I would have liked. First, they arrived smelling of mildew, and I had to “sun” them and then put them in a box of kitty litter to get the smell out. The online versions of maps, therefore, while tedious to search, were of more help.
Before the trip, I read for the first time Daphne Du Maurier’s book “Vanishing Cornwall”, which is a lovely introduction to the area for a tourist. In this collection of essays written decades ago, Du Maurier paints a vivid picture of the moors, the coasts, and the history of Cornwall, King Doniert included. I then re-read “Jamaica Inn” just for the local vibe since we’d be visiting Bodmin Moor and Altarnun. As an adolescent who devoured Victoria Holt, Mary Stewart and Daphne du Maurier books as quickly as I ate breakfast, I remember not really liking “Jamaica Inn.” When re-reading it, I thought, “Hmmph—I must have had good literary sense as a kid.” No matter what, I enjoyed the fact that in reading it, my studies of all the historical maps of the area meant I knew where North Hill, and Five Lanes, etc were.
I had also started reading Burley’s Wycliffe crime series. I had downloaded all of them, and I really thought I’d use them as my main reading breaks for the trip. The first few had been quite enjoyable, and I’m still reading more now.
But my reading visits with Wycliffe on the trip were dramatically interrupted. After our first day with our guide James Colton, I confirmed with him that later on in the trip we’d take advantage of his last unbooked day (I had already placed a deposit on it weeks before) and that we’d choose his North Cornwall tour. Since that tour generally involved looking at “Poldark” and “Doc Martin” sites among others, I thought I might want to read at least one Poldark book.
I had seen only one-half of an episode of “Poldark” on PBS, and I really never tuned in again. To my surprise, once I stepped into reading “Ross Poldark”, book one of the Winston Graham series, I became totally hooked. By our trip’s end, I read all 12 books in the series. Often, I felt as though I were living two parallel lives—one in Cornwall of 2018 and one in Cornwall the 18th and 19th centuries.
As to future reading, well, I’m back in Detective Wycliffe’s world again. I had read Rosamunde Pilcher’s “The Shell Seekers” about 20 years ago, and I plan to re-read that again now that I’ve explored that coast. And as suggested in the post above, I plan to read a biography of Wesley.
I always love to read books about locales we’ll be visiting both before and during touring. After I got the GSM Kindle that could download a book anywhere without the need for WiFI—even on a Turkish gullet—it became easy to read about or hear a book suggestion and get it on the spot.
I had bought two hard copy guide books (neither of which I packed; instead, I later downloaded the Kindle versions). I had also purchased several historical Cassini maps from the CFHS. Those were not as helpful as I would have liked. First, they arrived smelling of mildew, and I had to “sun” them and then put them in a box of kitty litter to get the smell out. The online versions of maps, therefore, while tedious to search, were of more help.
Before the trip, I read for the first time Daphne Du Maurier’s book “Vanishing Cornwall”, which is a lovely introduction to the area for a tourist. In this collection of essays written decades ago, Du Maurier paints a vivid picture of the moors, the coasts, and the history of Cornwall, King Doniert included. I then re-read “Jamaica Inn” just for the local vibe since we’d be visiting Bodmin Moor and Altarnun. As an adolescent who devoured Victoria Holt, Mary Stewart and Daphne du Maurier books as quickly as I ate breakfast, I remember not really liking “Jamaica Inn.” When re-reading it, I thought, “Hmmph—I must have had good literary sense as a kid.” No matter what, I enjoyed the fact that in reading it, my studies of all the historical maps of the area meant I knew where North Hill, and Five Lanes, etc were.
I had also started reading Burley’s Wycliffe crime series. I had downloaded all of them, and I really thought I’d use them as my main reading breaks for the trip. The first few had been quite enjoyable, and I’m still reading more now.
But my reading visits with Wycliffe on the trip were dramatically interrupted. After our first day with our guide James Colton, I confirmed with him that later on in the trip we’d take advantage of his last unbooked day (I had already placed a deposit on it weeks before) and that we’d choose his North Cornwall tour. Since that tour generally involved looking at “Poldark” and “Doc Martin” sites among others, I thought I might want to read at least one Poldark book.
I had seen only one-half of an episode of “Poldark” on PBS, and I really never tuned in again. To my surprise, once I stepped into reading “Ross Poldark”, book one of the Winston Graham series, I became totally hooked. By our trip’s end, I read all 12 books in the series. Often, I felt as though I were living two parallel lives—one in Cornwall of 2018 and one in Cornwall the 18th and 19th centuries.
As to future reading, well, I’m back in Detective Wycliffe’s world again. I had read Rosamunde Pilcher’s “The Shell Seekers” about 20 years ago, and I plan to re-read that again now that I’ve explored that coast. And as suggested in the post above, I plan to read a biography of Wesley.
Jul 13th, 2018, 06:38 AM
#33
Gosh, Alessandrazoe, i think you've read more about Cornwall than I have!
If you want to learn more about Wesley, you might like to look at Roy Hattersley's biography of him - I heard him at a book fair once and he writes as well as he speaks. Wesley had a huge effect on Cornwall - there are innumerable chapels from large edifices holding 500 people or more, to the tiniest chapels and about a mile or so from here there is an amphitheatre called "Gwennap Pit" where he reputedly addressed over 20,000 people. Difficult to envisage it now, but they still hold open air services there at least once a year. Strict methodism is also practised - the groundsman at our local rugby club has been going there for over 40 years but has never been in the clubhouse [where they serve a certain quantity of beer] nor indeed, as he proudly told me, ever stepped foot inside a public house. Still he is not entirely vice free - in the same conversation he was telling me how much in demand he is for mowing the lawns of certain widow ladies in the district so I was careful not to let on that I fell into the same category!
Glad you enjoyed Truro - I haven't been in the museum for a while but I have always enjoyed mooching round it. And as you discovered it has a good and very friendly cafe. More records pertaining to "Cousin Jacks" can be found in the Cornish Studies library here in Redruth, which is soon to move to another site in Redruth and be renamed "Kresen Kernow" bringing all the Cornish archives together in one building.
https://www.cornwall.gov.uk/communit...rchive-centre/
As for the Cathedral it isn't that old of course, so it isn't as impressive as those in say Exeter or Gloucester, but it's still quite interesting and as the choir I sing in performs there 4 times a year or so, I've grown quite fond of it. Lucky you to hear an organ recital - the organ is a famous Father Willis organ which attracts some very fine players.
It occurs to me from the last sentence of your penultimate post that you must have been in Falmouth during the Shanty Festival in which my DS was performing in the Shanty group he sings with - I wonder if you heard them??
If you want to learn more about Wesley, you might like to look at Roy Hattersley's biography of him - I heard him at a book fair once and he writes as well as he speaks. Wesley had a huge effect on Cornwall - there are innumerable chapels from large edifices holding 500 people or more, to the tiniest chapels and about a mile or so from here there is an amphitheatre called "Gwennap Pit" where he reputedly addressed over 20,000 people. Difficult to envisage it now, but they still hold open air services there at least once a year. Strict methodism is also practised - the groundsman at our local rugby club has been going there for over 40 years but has never been in the clubhouse [where they serve a certain quantity of beer] nor indeed, as he proudly told me, ever stepped foot inside a public house. Still he is not entirely vice free - in the same conversation he was telling me how much in demand he is for mowing the lawns of certain widow ladies in the district so I was careful not to let on that I fell into the same category!
Glad you enjoyed Truro - I haven't been in the museum for a while but I have always enjoyed mooching round it. And as you discovered it has a good and very friendly cafe. More records pertaining to "Cousin Jacks" can be found in the Cornish Studies library here in Redruth, which is soon to move to another site in Redruth and be renamed "Kresen Kernow" bringing all the Cornish archives together in one building.
https://www.cornwall.gov.uk/communit...rchive-centre/
As for the Cathedral it isn't that old of course, so it isn't as impressive as those in say Exeter or Gloucester, but it's still quite interesting and as the choir I sing in performs there 4 times a year or so, I've grown quite fond of it. Lucky you to hear an organ recital - the organ is a famous Father Willis organ which attracts some very fine players.
It occurs to me from the last sentence of your penultimate post that you must have been in Falmouth during the Shanty Festival in which my DS was performing in the Shanty group he sings with - I wonder if you heard them??
Jul 13th, 2018, 09:11 AM
#34
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2008
Posts: 2,555
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
I must apologize for the typing, etc on the last post. I’m still trying to feel my way around an iPad, and typing even with a keyboard has been excruciatingly tedious for me (I’m used to a Surface or a Lenovo laptop, but do all intensive writing only on my desktop). I mistakenly try to short cut the process by writing in Apple Notes. The copy/paste did not translate well. Oh well.
Annhig—I will take all of your recommendations seriously. And as I will later relate, I truly wish we could return to Cornwall. I think, however, our next trip will be to Northern Ireland from where the ancestors of both my husband and me had a stopping ground for at least a generation. The Sea Shanty Festival, which I shall relate in a bit, reminded us of how much music we missed by NOT going to Ireland this time, and we long for it.
But along that line, as a child, my father always made us watch the movie “How Green Was My Valley” and would say, “You are watching the dynamic of my family.” We were a quite musical family ourselves (both of my parents were musicians), and my sister and I were always in multiple church and school choirs, a tradition I passed to my two girls. But my father so appreciated sound of the 8-part male harmony in that specific movie, and in fact, he would often take us to Russian Orthodox churches (and would play the famous Red Army choir records) to hear that strong sound.
Now I know where he learned to love that sound. As I passed Methodist church after church advertising their Men’s Choir performances, I so wished I would have researched time and place before the trip. And I also longed for the presence of my parents.
Annhig—I will take all of your recommendations seriously. And as I will later relate, I truly wish we could return to Cornwall. I think, however, our next trip will be to Northern Ireland from where the ancestors of both my husband and me had a stopping ground for at least a generation. The Sea Shanty Festival, which I shall relate in a bit, reminded us of how much music we missed by NOT going to Ireland this time, and we long for it.
But along that line, as a child, my father always made us watch the movie “How Green Was My Valley” and would say, “You are watching the dynamic of my family.” We were a quite musical family ourselves (both of my parents were musicians), and my sister and I were always in multiple church and school choirs, a tradition I passed to my two girls. But my father so appreciated sound of the 8-part male harmony in that specific movie, and in fact, he would often take us to Russian Orthodox churches (and would play the famous Red Army choir records) to hear that strong sound.
Now I know where he learned to love that sound. As I passed Methodist church after church advertising their Men’s Choir performances, I so wished I would have researched time and place before the trip. And I also longed for the presence of my parents.
Jul 13th, 2018, 10:59 AM
#35
There is a lot of music in Cornwall, though it is not necessarily well publicised. As well as many choirs singing the classical repertoire, [two of which are more than 100 voices including the one in which I sing], there are male voice choirs, silver and brass bands, music festivals, shanty groups, folk groups, church choirs, and probably quite a few more I've missed out. I can't speak for the music of Ireland because I've never been but if there's more than there is here, there must be a hell of a lot.
Jul 14th, 2018, 03:36 AM
#36
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2008
Posts: 2,555
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Post Nine: Falmouth and Sea Shanties
We said goodbye to our lovely room at the Pencubbitt House and the glorious breakfast and coffee served there. We were moving onwards to Falmouth, and we had decided on an early start.
We never had the chance to say goodbye to “our” dog near the rail station. This time we called a taxi. We were capable of hiking uphill with our belongings; we were not so sure we could dodge traffic on the blind curve all that well.
The train leg to Truro was packed; the leg from Truro to Falmouth was bursting at the seams. I had a baby carriage on my foot for a good part of that ride. Once we descended from the rail station, we made our next uphill climb to The Oceanic Aparthotel — Oceanic Luxury Hotel Apartments | Falmouth | Cornwall | Boutique Hotel Suites
Tim and Heather, now retired, simply love sailing, and they’ve found a way to support their Falmouth lifestyle and hold their family gatherings by renovating a house into quite luxurious apartments. In addition, they brilliantly figured out how to sidestep the responsibility of breakfast. They provide a hamper of goodies, and stock the fridge with the necessities and leave their guests alone.
After a quite warm welcome with beers out back by the hot tub (no we were not IN the hot tub), Tim said, “You know, you are just in time for the last hours of the Sea Shanty Festival.” To our minds, this statement brought up the image of sea shacks and we were puzzled. Then as Tim went on about it, we independently got it: oh, “shanty” was an American “chanty.” Wow, we are older than dirt and are still learning something. Tim said, “Perhaps you’ve sung one before,” and as most US readers know, we learn these in grade school. And goodness knows, we’ve sung many in an Irish bar.
So off we went to the plaza in front of the Maritime Museum. I snagged two seats under shade while my husband ordered beers, and we joyfully settled in for the last four hours of the festival. I have no idea who we heard—I do know we loved it. One problem, though, was that the entirely friendly audience around us wanted to talk about Mr. U-Know-Who as soon as they found out we were Americans. We had to explain over and over again that we were in Cornwall on a “TrumpCation” and that we would be making a fast exit back to the States before Britain had to suffer him. That statement usually got my husband a slap on the back and a beer.
Want to go next year? Here are the details for 2019: Friday 14th - Sunday 16th June 2019 | Falmouth Sea Shanty
After the last group performed, we headed into The Shed The Shed Restaurant Falmouth | Cocktail Bar and Restaurant in Falmouth, Cornwall. for a quick meal.
Then we climbed up the hill to our quite plush little apartment. The day had been very hot, and like most places, the Oceanic did not have AC and our bedroom was broiling. But Tim had showed us his Dyson fan, and we were old enough to remember “old school” world pre-AC: exhaust the hot air and intake cool. We were just fine, and we slept well.
Coming up: Maritime Museum, Pendennis Castle, and of course, Laundry
We said goodbye to our lovely room at the Pencubbitt House and the glorious breakfast and coffee served there. We were moving onwards to Falmouth, and we had decided on an early start.
We never had the chance to say goodbye to “our” dog near the rail station. This time we called a taxi. We were capable of hiking uphill with our belongings; we were not so sure we could dodge traffic on the blind curve all that well.
The train leg to Truro was packed; the leg from Truro to Falmouth was bursting at the seams. I had a baby carriage on my foot for a good part of that ride. Once we descended from the rail station, we made our next uphill climb to The Oceanic Aparthotel — Oceanic Luxury Hotel Apartments | Falmouth | Cornwall | Boutique Hotel Suites
Tim and Heather, now retired, simply love sailing, and they’ve found a way to support their Falmouth lifestyle and hold their family gatherings by renovating a house into quite luxurious apartments. In addition, they brilliantly figured out how to sidestep the responsibility of breakfast. They provide a hamper of goodies, and stock the fridge with the necessities and leave their guests alone.
After a quite warm welcome with beers out back by the hot tub (no we were not IN the hot tub), Tim said, “You know, you are just in time for the last hours of the Sea Shanty Festival.” To our minds, this statement brought up the image of sea shacks and we were puzzled. Then as Tim went on about it, we independently got it: oh, “shanty” was an American “chanty.” Wow, we are older than dirt and are still learning something. Tim said, “Perhaps you’ve sung one before,” and as most US readers know, we learn these in grade school. And goodness knows, we’ve sung many in an Irish bar.
So off we went to the plaza in front of the Maritime Museum. I snagged two seats under shade while my husband ordered beers, and we joyfully settled in for the last four hours of the festival. I have no idea who we heard—I do know we loved it. One problem, though, was that the entirely friendly audience around us wanted to talk about Mr. U-Know-Who as soon as they found out we were Americans. We had to explain over and over again that we were in Cornwall on a “TrumpCation” and that we would be making a fast exit back to the States before Britain had to suffer him. That statement usually got my husband a slap on the back and a beer.
Want to go next year? Here are the details for 2019: Friday 14th - Sunday 16th June 2019 | Falmouth Sea Shanty
After the last group performed, we headed into The Shed The Shed Restaurant Falmouth | Cocktail Bar and Restaurant in Falmouth, Cornwall. for a quick meal.
Then we climbed up the hill to our quite plush little apartment. The day had been very hot, and like most places, the Oceanic did not have AC and our bedroom was broiling. But Tim had showed us his Dyson fan, and we were old enough to remember “old school” world pre-AC: exhaust the hot air and intake cool. We were just fine, and we slept well.
Coming up: Maritime Museum, Pendennis Castle, and of course, Laundry
Jul 14th, 2018, 05:57 AM
#37
<<So off we went to the plaza in front of the Maritime Museum. I snagged two seats under shade while my husband ordered beers, and we joyfully settled in for the last four hours of the festival. I have no idea who we heard—I do know we loved it.>>
I'm sure you did hear DS then - all the participating groups take part in the finale in Events Square - one of the windiest places in Falmouth, BTW but all the canvas for the beer tent makes it ok for the festival. I'm a bit surprised that your super-duper accommodation didn't include air-con - I bet they'll be thinking about retro-fitting it after the summer we're having now. Funny - it's a wonderful website but I couldn't find a map or the address so in the end I had to use google maps to find out where it was. The Shed was a good choice for dinner too - we've had a few meals there and at its 2 sister restaurants which are all 3 of them in a row on the square.
looking forward to more......
I'm sure you did hear DS then - all the participating groups take part in the finale in Events Square - one of the windiest places in Falmouth, BTW but all the canvas for the beer tent makes it ok for the festival. I'm a bit surprised that your super-duper accommodation didn't include air-con - I bet they'll be thinking about retro-fitting it after the summer we're having now. Funny - it's a wonderful website but I couldn't find a map or the address so in the end I had to use google maps to find out where it was. The Shed was a good choice for dinner too - we've had a few meals there and at its 2 sister restaurants which are all 3 of them in a row on the square.
looking forward to more......
Jul 16th, 2018, 12:59 AM
#38
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2008
Posts: 2,555
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Post Ten: Kicking Around Falmouth: Maritime Museum, Pendennis Castle—and Laundry
Tim had given us a nice little tourist map, and clearly marked on it was “Trelawney Laundry”. We had inhaled our apartment supply of Nexpresso pods and thus revived, we were ready get ‘er done. After a few wrong turns, we arrived at the laundry to find every machine full. The owner gave us the time estimated or the next free one. Hmmm. We asked the cost of her doing it. Reasonable. Done deal. We’d pick the stuff up around 2 pm.
We headed down the hill for breakfast at Fuel, and we mapped out our day: The National Maritime Museum and then onwards and upwards to Pendennis Castle.
The Maritime Museum’s special exhibit was on the Titannic. I had seen other Titannic exhibits that were better, but my husband had never seen even one—nor had he read all the books on the topic that I had. Therefore, this was a hit for him. Outside of the special exhibit, there are sections on Falmouth maritime history, a nice little section on Cornwall’s sea relationship, and lots of boats. The two highlights for us were a) the museum’s focus on children (the sound of the little school group and the sight of little ones scrambling in and out of boats were delightful) and b) the stunning view of the harbor from inside the place. Yet, overall, the place was a miss for us. I think the museum’s name ill-serves it; had it been named the Falmouth Maritime Museum, expectations would have been lower and been easily met.
We stopped for a post-museum cappuccino on the square, and noted how the sea gulls had no interest in us. The day before, they were dive-bombing the crowd, and the restaurants were handing out water guns right and left.
As we started our way to Pendennis, we made a quick detour to pick up a razor because I had left mine behind at Pencubbitt House. The TescoExpress did not have what I wanted, but a Trago Mill’s store down the way did. A quite handy store to have around.
The day was heating up, and the way we chose to ascend was in brutally direct sunshine. By the time we made it to the castle, all we could think about was water, water, water. Luckily, the cafe not only could provide water, but also could provide us with...BREAKFAST BEER.
So I have to tell you that when I was a teen, my parents and my sister and I took a 3-week trip to England. The first castle or two were fascinating; by the end of week 3, my sister and I had developed a more critical ranking system. I thought of her as we toured Pendennis. Out of 10, I’d give it a “4”, and most of that is for a stunning view. There just isn’t that much to see on the grounds themselves. We worked hard to generate more interest in the grounds and few exhibits, but the fact remains that it was a watchpost and artilliary post when King Henry VIII built it and when Queen Elizabeth’s crew defended England from the Spanish Armada; it was the same during WWI and WWII. Not much remains of either era. So basically, we were paying over 10 pounds per person for a view.
On the positive side, we found a way to descend the hill in the shade. We worked our way to the harbor and picked up snacks and beer at some bar with a name I can’t remember. What I do remember is that it had inside seating with a harbor view and wonderful AC. I was comfy cozy, and my husband kindly left me to my Kindle (POLDARK!) with brew in hand while he ascended to the laundry.
Packing note: The laundromat lady told me husband she thought our GoLite backpack suitcase—the one that unzips into two zippered sides—and the packing cubes we used inside it were brilliant. She apparently had done a show-and-tell with other customers as she was packing it up nicely. Again, I simply do not understand why this product is not on the market again.
After my husband returned with the laundry, we went back up the hill to our apartment to get clean. Luckily, our apartment had a gorgeous big tub and a huge separate shower. My exercise-induced vasculitis (aka) golfer’s rash, had returned with a vengeance, so a nice hour’s soak with my Kindle (PODARK!) in a zip-lock bag was quite welcome.
Dinner that night was at Thai Orchid.
Coming up: A Hike on the South West Coast Path
Tim had given us a nice little tourist map, and clearly marked on it was “Trelawney Laundry”. We had inhaled our apartment supply of Nexpresso pods and thus revived, we were ready get ‘er done. After a few wrong turns, we arrived at the laundry to find every machine full. The owner gave us the time estimated or the next free one. Hmmm. We asked the cost of her doing it. Reasonable. Done deal. We’d pick the stuff up around 2 pm.
We headed down the hill for breakfast at Fuel, and we mapped out our day: The National Maritime Museum and then onwards and upwards to Pendennis Castle.
The Maritime Museum’s special exhibit was on the Titannic. I had seen other Titannic exhibits that were better, but my husband had never seen even one—nor had he read all the books on the topic that I had. Therefore, this was a hit for him. Outside of the special exhibit, there are sections on Falmouth maritime history, a nice little section on Cornwall’s sea relationship, and lots of boats. The two highlights for us were a) the museum’s focus on children (the sound of the little school group and the sight of little ones scrambling in and out of boats were delightful) and b) the stunning view of the harbor from inside the place. Yet, overall, the place was a miss for us. I think the museum’s name ill-serves it; had it been named the Falmouth Maritime Museum, expectations would have been lower and been easily met.
We stopped for a post-museum cappuccino on the square, and noted how the sea gulls had no interest in us. The day before, they were dive-bombing the crowd, and the restaurants were handing out water guns right and left.
As we started our way to Pendennis, we made a quick detour to pick up a razor because I had left mine behind at Pencubbitt House. The TescoExpress did not have what I wanted, but a Trago Mill’s store down the way did. A quite handy store to have around.
The day was heating up, and the way we chose to ascend was in brutally direct sunshine. By the time we made it to the castle, all we could think about was water, water, water. Luckily, the cafe not only could provide water, but also could provide us with...BREAKFAST BEER.
So I have to tell you that when I was a teen, my parents and my sister and I took a 3-week trip to England. The first castle or two were fascinating; by the end of week 3, my sister and I had developed a more critical ranking system. I thought of her as we toured Pendennis. Out of 10, I’d give it a “4”, and most of that is for a stunning view. There just isn’t that much to see on the grounds themselves. We worked hard to generate more interest in the grounds and few exhibits, but the fact remains that it was a watchpost and artilliary post when King Henry VIII built it and when Queen Elizabeth’s crew defended England from the Spanish Armada; it was the same during WWI and WWII. Not much remains of either era. So basically, we were paying over 10 pounds per person for a view.
On the positive side, we found a way to descend the hill in the shade. We worked our way to the harbor and picked up snacks and beer at some bar with a name I can’t remember. What I do remember is that it had inside seating with a harbor view and wonderful AC. I was comfy cozy, and my husband kindly left me to my Kindle (POLDARK!) with brew in hand while he ascended to the laundry.
Packing note: The laundromat lady told me husband she thought our GoLite backpack suitcase—the one that unzips into two zippered sides—and the packing cubes we used inside it were brilliant. She apparently had done a show-and-tell with other customers as she was packing it up nicely. Again, I simply do not understand why this product is not on the market again.
After my husband returned with the laundry, we went back up the hill to our apartment to get clean. Luckily, our apartment had a gorgeous big tub and a huge separate shower. My exercise-induced vasculitis (aka) golfer’s rash, had returned with a vengeance, so a nice hour’s soak with my Kindle (PODARK!) in a zip-lock bag was quite welcome.
Dinner that night was at Thai Orchid.
Coming up: A Hike on the South West Coast Path
Jul 16th, 2018, 01:18 AM
#39
Original Poster
Join Date: Oct 2008
Posts: 2,555
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Annhig: I’m sorry it has taken so long to reply to your comment. I am using my iPad, and for two days, my keyboard has not been happy. Writing even a sentence was painfully slow. And also, yes, we have our first grandchild, a girl. We are all deliriously happy now.
So your question/comment basically is: How in the world can Ireland have more music than Cornwall? I’m sure it doesn’t. But I’m sure it’s more instantly accessible.
Let me give you this background to explain. With two parents as music majors, our entire family life was music. My sister and I were always, from the time we were five, in at least two choirs and one years, we were in five choirs/ensembles. When we weren’t singing, we were listening to other choirs and other performances. We both took piano from age five to around age 14. My father tucked us in at night via violin or guitar, often with a sea chanty. My after-school job was as an accompanist for a top tier vocal teacher, and I then accompanied his best students for auditions for state and national choirs, plus entry to university.
Even though I married a man with no vocal talent whatsoever, our girls were greatly involved in church and school choirs, and both did orchestra, too.
So obviously we enjoy the choral experience, and that’s why I feel so bad I did not research attending some of the local concerts we’d see advertised when we passed by churches in Cornwall.
But here’s the deal: In Ireland, we are ALWAYS experiencing a vocal and instrumental concert. It’s unavoidable. Even if one did not inhabit bars, where often local and quite talented audience members perform “their” song, the number of talented buskers on street corners provides listening opportunities at every turn. To this day, I so regret that my father’s hip replacement, an operation that brought on a host of other health issues, meant I could not take him to Galway. He and my mother would have loved every second.
So your question/comment basically is: How in the world can Ireland have more music than Cornwall? I’m sure it doesn’t. But I’m sure it’s more instantly accessible.
Let me give you this background to explain. With two parents as music majors, our entire family life was music. My sister and I were always, from the time we were five, in at least two choirs and one years, we were in five choirs/ensembles. When we weren’t singing, we were listening to other choirs and other performances. We both took piano from age five to around age 14. My father tucked us in at night via violin or guitar, often with a sea chanty. My after-school job was as an accompanist for a top tier vocal teacher, and I then accompanied his best students for auditions for state and national choirs, plus entry to university.
Even though I married a man with no vocal talent whatsoever, our girls were greatly involved in church and school choirs, and both did orchestra, too.
So obviously we enjoy the choral experience, and that’s why I feel so bad I did not research attending some of the local concerts we’d see advertised when we passed by churches in Cornwall.
But here’s the deal: In Ireland, we are ALWAYS experiencing a vocal and instrumental concert. It’s unavoidable. Even if one did not inhabit bars, where often local and quite talented audience members perform “their” song, the number of talented buskers on street corners provides listening opportunities at every turn. To this day, I so regret that my father’s hip replacement, an operation that brought on a host of other health issues, meant I could not take him to Galway. He and my mother would have loved every second.
Jul 17th, 2018, 11:25 AM
#40
Join Date: Aug 2005
Posts: 3,896
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Alessandra--Although I always figured I'd go to Ireland someday, you might have just sold me on a trip to Ireland with that last post. I had no idea their musicality was still a common thing... I guess because my friends who have gone to Ireland haven't been musical and didn't appreciate it at all. I grew up always singing at the piano with my family. I also was an instrumentalist all the way through college although I didn't major in it. And I sang in a choir in college and since then. Most Americans think it's odd that we do as much music as we do. I didn't realize it was still common in Ireland.
And I am truly sorry you could not take your dad. But those windows of opportunity are so very short and sometimes we don't see them until they close. Three years ago, I took my dad to the Czech Republic to see where we are from. It was an incredible trip but my brother and I noticed he wasn't walking well. He ended up getting two knee replacements since and although he's no longer in pain, he can't walk like he did. I couldn't fathom doing that trip now.
And I am truly sorry you could not take your dad. But those windows of opportunity are so very short and sometimes we don't see them until they close. Three years ago, I took my dad to the Czech Republic to see where we are from. It was an incredible trip but my brother and I noticed he wasn't walking well. He ended up getting two knee replacements since and although he's no longer in pain, he can't walk like he did. I couldn't fathom doing that trip now.
