The lovely village of Kenn.
We decided to scarper out of Kenn early to avoid any going to work traffic on the narrow road through the village, so we set off at 6.45am. We still managed to meet 3 cars on the 2km stretch of road, luckily not meeting anyone on the hedge lined one lane stretch near the end. We stopped at the petrol station for fuel and LPG then hit the road hoping to find a lay by to stop and have breakfast. We made it to the Brixham Park & Ride which we had discovered on the local Council website, It didn't open till 9am according to the sign, so we parked by the gate and had some breakfast. The Park & Ride was on grass and Paul observed that it looked like no one had used it for awhile, then a local lady came by not long after and told us it was closed for the season. Our plan was to see Brixham, but we were worried about the parking availability in the town, what to do? We decided to take a punt on a carpark by the waterfront that we had been informed was a longstay carpark, so off we intrepidly set. It turned out to be ok, yes the streets were narrow with cars parked on the sides, but we wove our way through the maze and found the carpark. We had hoped that we could stay overnight but as of September they had changed their rules and no overnight camping was allowed, so we paid the parking fee and set out for a walking tour of Brixham Harbour.
Brixham Harbour
Brixham Town.
Brixham is a working Harbour, fishing being the major industry and then tourism. The tide was out and the inner Harbour had boats lying on their sides looking very forlorn. The debris and rubbish scattered around the foreshore was quite surprising for such a tourist oriented place, we have found this in most of Great Britain. There was a replica of the Golden Hind beached in the mud and used as a museum/tourist attraction, but closed for the season. Charter vessels were put away for the winter, there was an air of waiting about the place, waiting for winter to run its course and life to begin again in the summer. We walked around the Marina and out to the Harbour wall, watching a very brave man in his thick wetsuit venturing into the icy cold water. Back in the town itself the Main Street was humming, but mainly with the locals, some of the cliche tourist shops were open but most were shut for the winter. We were a bit disappointed with Brixham, to us it did not feel like the "old Harbour town" that we were expecting, perhaps we are expecting to much. We wandered back to the camper and planned our next move, we decided to head for St Blazey Gate in Cornwall to a pub stop. So off we set again negotiating the narrow one way streets to get out of Brixham. We unfortunately struck one of those narrow roads with rock walls and hedges up to the tar seal and trucks and buses bearing down on you with not a lot of wriggle room. We survived unscathed and made St Blazey Gate to have a late lunch of chips and cider at the pub. Paul and I went for a walk in the afternoon down to Par and the beach, not one of the most spectacular beaches, but hey we are not in NZ. The pub unfortunately had a band playing that night, so our sleep was a bit interrupted by cars and patrons, thems the breaks.
St Austell is the next town along from St Blazey Gate, and our next pub stop was only 2 kms down the road, so we parked up there on Saturday morning and went to the Cornwall Market World. Paul spotted a cheap leather wallet and some old keys that he fancied from a antique dealer, most of the market was t shirts and junk, but it was interesting. After lunch we walked over to Carlyon Beach and around the cliffs to Charlestown, a small Harbour next to St Austell. Charlestown was what we were looking for, a Harbour town that has retained its old world character in this modern age. Paul was almost skipping with delight, a tall ship was moored up inside the walls, the buildings around the Harbour were fairly original making for a very picturesque place. Charlestown Harbour has been used as a backdrop in some television shows and movies, in recent years Poldark was filmed here. The funding from these ventures has enabled the village and Harbour to retain its original look. We explored the the local shops and attempted to see the Ship Wreck Museum, but again it was closed for the season.
Looking over the cliffs from Carlyon.
Charlestown Harbour walls.
The houses overlooking the Harbour and the Harbour Masters office.
Tall Ship used for filming.
I was pretty buggered by the time we got back to the camper, it had been a long and sometimes steep walk and my knee was giving me hell. That night we went out for dinner at the pub in front of the fire. The pub was more of what they term a "gastropub", more a bar and restaurant than local pub, so dinner was Ok. We went back to the camper having made the decision to stay another night at the pub and catch the bus to Fowey the next day.
Fowey is pronounced "Foy", that was what we learnt from a little old lady waiting at the bus stop with us, she explained where the bus stopped and was very friendly. The bus ride was pretty hairy, the drivers go like the clappers narrowly missing cars and other buses on the route, then as we descended into Fowey it got even narrower. We were dropped off at the top of Browns Hill lane, this steep lane led down into the town. We wandered down and as we drew nearer the town we came upon the Remembrance Day Service at St Finn Bars Parish Church, we were handed the order of service and then commenced to join in on this solemn occasion. It was a very moving service remembering the Battle of the Somme, but according to what was said Great Britain seemed to be the only country who had any casualties, there was no mention of the other Allied forces who lost lives at that battle. Both Paul and I were a bit piqued by this and commented on it to each other later.
Browns Hill lane.
We continued on down to the water front past the old town hall and onto the Quay, there was a lovely view over to Polruan on the other side of the harbour. We wandered around through the maze of buildings and lanes, up hill and down. Fowey is built on the side of the hill, every square inch is packed with houses or shops and little lanes between, some areas you could only get to by stairs with no vehicle access, be a bugger if you had to buy a new fridge. Being a Sunday we did not expect many shops to be open, but Fowey is a tourist town and even in Autumn it was all go, the majority of the shops were cafes, pubs, bakeries and ladies clothes shops. We do not do tourist, so we limited ourselves to a gluten free pasty that took an hour to heat up. So while that was warming Paul went off exploring finding the ferry and ships dock, I stayed at the Quay watching and listening to the people around me, quite entertaining.
Fowey Harbour looking toward the sea.
Narrow streets of Fowey town.
Looking toward Polruan from Fowey.
More narrow streets, some parts you can only access by foot.
The river Fowey and town.
Our Pasty was a bit of a let down, but it was warm. After another hour of exploring it was time to head back to the bus stop at the top of Brown Hill Lane. While we were waiting in the bus shelter I checked my phone, my nephew Adam had put a safe message on facebook, I investigated further and discovered that there had been an earthquake North of Christchurch, after reading another facebook message I discovered that there was a Tsunami warning in place, oh my god, that was it I was in tears, missing home, wanting to be there. As we looked further it appeared to have all happened a few hours before, Paul calmed me down and we realised that the Tsunami threat had been downgraded. So we boarded the bus back to St Austell, again having an exciting drive through the countryside and villages.
Monday 14th saw us on the road to Falmouth, we did hope to stop in Truro but the parking was pretty horrendous, so we drove on arriving in Falmouth and the campground at 10.30 am. We had showers and then I got stuck into the washing, this ended up being a long drawn out process due to the dryer taking an hour and a half to dry one load. So I stayed at the campsite in the afternoon and Paul went off to explore Penryn, a Village near Falmouth. He seemed quite captivated with the place, the sail boats might have had something to do with that. We had a quiet night watching TV a luxury we take advantage of when we have electric hookup.
Looking toward Falmouth from Pendennis Castle.
Lighthouse at the entrance to Falmouth Harbour.
Some of the old pubs along the waterfront.
Narrow lanes in Falmouth.
Tuesday we walked down to Falmouth, and I say down as it is built on the side of a slope with some pretty steep streets. Another old Harbour town, Falmouth is full of old warehouses, pubs, and houses. The Main Street runs along the water front with a preponderance of Bakeries, I think Cornwall has taken its Pasty making to new heights, and you can get one on every corner. Falmouth is a working Harbour with a container port and ship maintenance area, a oil rig was in for maintenance while we were there. There is also a Superyacht building yard which was playing host to a huge catamaran/ferry. We walked up to Pendennis Castle which we could not see due to the large moat and mound surrounding it, but we had a fantastic view of the township and out into the Atlantic Ocean and down the coast of Cornwall. Falmouth Harbour is quite spectacular and is apparently a very deep Harbour and quite sheltered. We walked back down to the Prince of Wales Pier in town for lunch, the clouds started to look a bit heavier so we started our trek up the hills to the campsite and the warm dry camper. It was time for us to think about turning around and heading back to the midlands in preparation for dropping off the camper and heading for Ireland.
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