Another partial
reason for the journey is to take a very short cut between points on the UK
national trails, from John o’ Groats in the north to Land’s End in the south.
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| John o' Groats, last stop on mainland U.K. |
Many people have taken this entire journey on via bicycle, some even by foot,
as a personal challenge, for charity, or just for the hell of it. Faithful
readers will remember that one of my very first travel adventures on this long
stay in the U.K. was my Highland Fling, which took me to John o’ Groats, last
stop on the mainland U.K. and beyond, to the Orkney Islands. Of course I took
that trip by coach from Inverness, not on my own two feet. And today I’ll be
driven in a minivan to Land’s End. While hardly an ordeal to be proud of, having
gone in a way from John o’ Groats to Land’s End whilst I was heredoes give me
some sense of this sceptred isle from tip to toe.
And last, but I
don’t think least, I have been trying to get to Penzance since the
very
beginning of 2012. Admittedly I have concocted a fantasy Penzance for myself, thanks to a team named Gilbert and Sullivan,
"For I am a pirate king!
And it is, it is a glorious thing
To be a pirate king!"
which the real town can't possibly live up to, but after two failed attempts and nearly five months later I’m
here, and while I’m not feeling all that piratical, the third time is the
charm; that goal (take whichever reason listed above, mix them together, or
invent another) is accomplished!
But to the trip!
Yesterday was one of the more miserable I’ve seen in England, cold, wet and
windy. It was miserable merely to trudge from ICLC to the Gloucester Rd tube
stop! After that I was indoors all the way into my rail coach,
and settled in
for a five hour jaunt from London to Penzance, from the beginning to the end of
that particular rail line, which is known as the Cornish Riviera. I was in Coach A, a “quiet carriage,” one I choose
whenever possible, as the silence is generally respected and it’s quite a
peaceful ride. On this particular trip the coach was not at all crowded, so
that helped as well. And of course I carried my trusty ipod Nano, whose battery
never seems to run down, so I listened first to Vivaldi, then to Corelli
(Corelli for Cornwall – the musical title of my trip) and finally to Granados’s
Goyescas as played brilliantly by Alicia de Laroccha.
The weather on
the journey however was miserable, miserable, miserable! I’m reminded of the
former channel 5 (U.K.) weather lady, a skinny, stringy-haired blonde, who used
to start nearly every forecast with, “Hallo…well…it’s going to ba another
miserable day…” and she took the key word “miserable” very slowly and making
sure she took time on every syllable. She put on her best smile but her intonation
was mournful. Come to think of it, most days weren’t so bad, after you'd been given that as a prognosis, so she may have been doing us all a favor!
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| Devon countryside from the train |
But the weather yesterday lived up or down to that
forecast! It rained as we stopped at Reading, at Exeter, then as we railed it through
Devon (though even rain cannot keep those green fields from sparkling) all the
way to Plymouth, where patches of blue and every once in a while a wee bit of
sun appeared, dodging the raindrops. So as we entered Cornwall, just beyond, I
had hope that the day would improve. As we rode on into Cornwall…the rather
fast train up to Plymouth turned into a sort of slow milk run after, stopping
every ten to twenty minutes at villages where very few people got off and often
as not no one got on…the weather began to promise the possibility of not
completely soaked strolls around Penzance.
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| The green fields of Cornwall if you look VERY close you can see a small patch of blue - really! |
Then we stepped
off the train, and just as we did the skies open and it poured!
You’ve never
seen so small a station packed with so many just arrived passengers, none of
whom had any intention of leaving, as they would surely have been drowned
trying! Fortunately it was a short burst only (they have a term for it here,
sharp showers, and it’s accurate) so I was able to leave the station after
probably less than five minutes. While for a moment or two I pondered how to
get to the street on which I’d be staying – Market Jew Street (!) I looked in
the only two reasonable directions – the station is just at seaside so I knew
that way was not an option, nor was going back to where we’d come in from – and
as I looked I saw not the street sign, but my very inn! The Longboat, a pub and
restaurant that boasts 20 rooms above, and exceedingly close to the rail
station.
I immediately
checked in, along with two or three other damp passengers from the same train,
and immediately left again as I saw one or two patches of blue in the otherwise
foreboding sky. And took a stroll around the town. I walked up Market Jew
Street first. Okay – stop! Market Jew??? Apparently it comes from the Cornish
phrase “Marghas Yow” meaning “Thursday Market,” and indeed, at one end of the street
stands Market Hall. Still…
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| Market Hall at the top of Market Jew Street |
I had a map
printed off by the nice fellow that checked me in to the Longboat, but very few
street names were in evidence as I walked along the roads, so I wandered
somewhat aimlessly, and what I wanted to find I could not. Except for the
water!
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| Strong waves striking the coast at Penzance |
I walked down along the waterway, but the waves were whipping up so high
against the walkway that I would have got instantly drenched instead of slowly
soaked as I was becoming from the light drizzle that persisted after the opening
of the heavens on my arrival. I thought I might try to walk in the direction of
nearby Newlyn a place described to me as a charming and authentic fishing
village just down the coast, when I noticed the rain getting more and more
persistent, then falling hard, so I raced back to a place that looked
overpriced but which featured a view of the sea.
I’m sorry to say
that except for the view the Renaissance Café was far from exceptional. It WAS
overpriced, and also offered the worst scones I’ve ever tasted! I had their
afternoon tea, and fortunately was able to work the scones over with so much
clotted cream and strawberry jam that I was able to forget just how awful the
scones themselves tasted. The view, however, includes one of the most unique
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| St Michael's Mount in the distance |
geological formations in Cornwall, known as St Michael's Mount. This is a tidal island in the harbor, accessible by walking about 400 yards to it, BUT only at low tide. Don't push it as the tide can rush in and you could find yourself very much stuck if you get too late a start walking back to the mainland. This may remind the reader of St Michael Mount's more famous counterpart in France, Mont St Michel, which is also tidal, is of a similar shape, even has the same name. A chapel to St Michael and a castle are features of the island. I knew that I'd not have time to actually get to take the walk to the Mount, so I was happy to get a view of it, if only from across the water. And the Renaissance Café had provided me shelter from the storm,
which abated as soon as I sat down and ordered.
By the time I
had finished my tea the sky began again to look very grim, so I gave up, went
back to the Longboat, diddled with some photos I’d taken and, after watching
the evening news, went downstairs and ate there. That meal was a bit of a
disappointment too, particularly as what I chose, the fish and chips, was
described as being just caught that morning (the fish, not the chips) and that
featured their homemade batter. However it was pretty much all batter and very
little fish. What fish was there was fresh but as bland as butter, but the
pint, Doombar, a Cornish ale, which, while the name sounds
terrifying, like a grade C- sci fi flick or a really awful metallic rock band, tasted very nice.
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| Tiepolo clouds? |
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| If not those clouds, could these read Tiepolo? Note on the far right the surf still slamming against the shore |
And the weather
had picked up, so I took a walk around sunset – never saw the sun, but there
was a good bit of lovely Tiepolo cloud action. I began to find places I'd been told about but had not found in my drizzly walk earlier in the day;
most importantly Chapel Street, on which the Turk's head, the oldest pub in Penzance, is situated, and which has a number of charming and artsy shops along it, as well as another pub that reminds me of pirates, though not those of Penzance. The Admiral Benbow is just down the street from the Turk's Head (and a bit down in quality as well, from what I'm told), but the mention of that name brings Long John Silver of Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island to mind insstantly, as I'm sure it does with you as well! "Jim! You and me's got to sign arcticles, Jim!" "A-har!" In any case, that walk was by far the best part of
the day, and boded well for a possibly nicer following day, which I'll admit would not have been difficult. On my way back I picked up a
pint in a shop, some crisps, and went back upstairs about 9 pm.
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| The Admiral Benbow |
Day two? I'll leave you in suspense on that for a bit, but rest assured, it's coming
to a blog near and well known to you very soon!
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