To the Moors...and Beyond

The next day saw us basking in sunshine, so off we headed to Dartmoor National Park.  I dont know if this is the actual home of Catherine and Heathcliff, as it has been years since I read "Wuthering Heights," but one could certainly imagine the setting.  The area is vast and relatively barren that, oddly enough, reminded me of a slightly more lumpy version of Saskatchewan, as the colour of the grasses were very familiar.  Once again, it is hard to fathom that there are so many almost deserted places in such a small country, but one could easily get lost on the moors.

While travelling the moors, we noticed there was an bronze age fort located a bit off the road, so we decided to take a turn and have a look.  It turned out to be a turn for the worse, as the "road" set a new standard for narrowness in all our travels.  We would like to know why, when people live in these remote areas with their single track roads, they insist on driving Land Rovers!  Poor Rick had to practically perch our car up onto the hedges or stone walls to let the locals go past.  At least we knew the road had to lead somewhere, which it finally did - not where we wanted to go but to the small village of Widecombe-in-the-Moor.  Ever the intrepid adventurers, we turned around and headed back, once again keeping our eyes peeled for the sign of the settlement, although we ended up again at the main road.  Note to whoever is in charge of Grimspound: please put up some signs so that tourists know if they are even remotely close to your site!!

We then headed off to Newton Abbot, which has a long-standing relationship with Canada , as in 1583 Humphrey Gilbert, a local adventurer, landed at St. John’s in Newfoundland and claimed the area as an English colony (sorry, a cut and paste there!).  They also have a "cheese and onion fayre" that would seem to be the main reason to go, but alas we were not there at the right time.  We originally had planned to stay here, but were glad we had opted for Plymouth.

Our final destination of the day was to the English Riviera, also known as Torquay.  The real motivation for visiting, if I am going to be honest, is that it is the fictional home of Basil Fawlty, so it was an opportunity not to be missed.  As it turned out, Torquay is quite lovely, and not nearly as tacky as some other coastal resort towns.  We spent a lovely afternoon in the sunshine, sipping cider and having a great wander about the harbour.  It was a perfect way to spend our final day in Devon and Cornwall.

Dartmoor.  Told you it was remote.

There are some trees on the moors.

Oh, and rocks as well.  It really is like another world.

"Look," says Rick.  "Oh," says Bob, "do you think it is an old mill or factory?"  "I don't know, let's look it up"  Erm...it is Dartmoor Prison!  "Lock the doors and start the car!!!"

Ever so often in Darmoor, you come across a stream and sometimes there is a small settlement.  This foot bridge was located in such a place.  It was lovely, and quite popular with hikers setting out across the moors.

We stopped in the small town of Moretonhampstead for refreshments, but not at the Bell Inn, although we liked the look of the building.

We're not really sure just how happy Dexter is at being featured this week!!

Gotta love those thatched roofs!

This sign made me stop and ponder.  It was Rick who pointed out that it should say "police station," although there is no indication that the missing letters were ever carved into the stone.  How odd.

The guys pose in Newton Abbot, which displays its connection to Canada quite boldly!

The Golden Lion dates from 1623, so I suppose it would take a bold challenger to doubt their claim as the oldest ale house.

Torquay, the English Riviera.  Having not been to the real riviera, we will just take their word for it. 

Some of the lovely houses in Torquay overlooking the bay.

Rick relaxes with a cider along the shores of the bay.  It would appear I am having a Guinness, but who remembers?

Some lovely new condos in Torquay.  We could see ourselves living there.

The marina with the town beyond.  Every seaside town is required to have a ferris wheel, or so it would seem.

Looking back from whence we were.

The guys pose on the breakwater.

Gosh, never far from my old hometown!!

Magic and Pirates and Wind, oh my!

The next day saw us off bright and early, heading toward Tintagel.  If that sounds somewhat familiar, it is linked to King Arthur and the legends that surround him.  Tintagel is the supposed site of Arthur's conception, although a less romantic place we can't imagine!  The remains of the castle are built upon a rocky penninsula that is only attainable by climbing a seemingly endless series of steps carved into the rock face.  It would appear that the line, "Wanna come back to my place?  I have a castle," worked, at least in that instance.

Now, let's talk wind.  I grew up on the prairies, so I know wind.  It has stripped a few layers of skin off me in over the years, I am sure, and I probably walk at a permanent slant from walking to school always against the wind.  I am reminded of a line in a book I read that took place on the Isle of Harris, where the wind was described as only being noticed when it stopped.  I have to say, though, that I have never experienced wind like the gales that lashed us at the top of the rock.  A great deal of credit goes to image stablized lenses for any of the photos that we got that were sharp.  Amazingly, there were people living there even before the whole King Arthur thing, as far back as the Roman times, but we really can't imagine what those people were thinking when they decided it was a good place to settle.


Don't get me wrong, Tintagel proved to be stunning, interesting, mysterious and rigorous all at once.  Seeing the caves where pirates stashed their ill-gotten booty and letting our imaginations run wild was something we will never forget.

After Tintagel, both a castle and a wee town, we headed off to Penzance, just to keep the pirate theme going, but it turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, as it is not a thriving place and might look better in the sunshine, and maybe with some of its shops open.  After Penzance, we headed back for cider and pizza!!

Our morning drive took us through the exquisite countryside of Cornwall, the southern tip of England.

It all looked quite quintessentially English.

First sight of the castle, the Atlantic, and the caves, one of which is Merlin the Magician's. 

The bay below the castle.  You may notice a small, wooden landing down below, which might help give you a sense of scale.  Nothing here is without a stairclimb - there are over 600 of them - so down we went.

The Atlantic rolls in against the rocks.  It was easy to imagine shipwrecks, with pirates and probably townspeople hiding in the cove.

After a not too pleasant climb up the stairs, Rick proudly shows, once again, that nothing will stop him!

Oh, did I mention stairs?  The castle is actually spread across both sides of this gorge, and you pay to enter at the wee building you can barely see.  We are on the outcropping side, looking down and then up again to the landward side.  To be fair, there used to be a better land bridge in ancient times, which has worn down over the years, but still, it is hardly hospitable!

Remains of the castle.

Looking from Tinagel toward the other side of the bay.  The rock used to build the castle were quite flat, not the usual block shape of other castles.  Once again, another cave or two in which to hide.

A nearby hotel that, for reasons unknown, hasn't blown into the Atlantic.  

The foundations of the houses used by the inhabitants long before Tintagel was built.  Nice view, but I don't know if it is the best location, location, location.

The flora and fauna - low grasses and "tourista windium", otherwise known as Rick.  Oh, and rock.  There are some sheep up here, probably not your happiest of sheep, who we hope don't go too near the edges!

Finally, we made it to the other side, so we are looking south along the coast.  To get this photo, I had myself wedged against the rocks as I was splayed out like a tripod just trying to stay steady.

Upon completing the loop, we arrived back at the castle, complete with a view of a bit of its layout.

Down and up, up, up we went to the mainland side of the castle.  If you look closely, you will see people dressed in red climbing the stairs up to the outcropping side of the castle.  The stairs were worse for Rick going down, as you stare directly into the roiling sea.

The day was growing more overcast, but that didn't make the views any less spectacular.

We made it back to the town of Tintagel, where we came across this old building that is known as The Old Post Office.  It is a 14th century manor house made of stone with a slate roof.  They may want to do something about the roof line!!

Lunch was definitely on the menu, so to speak, so we went to the King Arthur's Arms pub.  I believe Rick is checking out some historical facts on his iPad, with what looks like Geepers, our GPS in the foreground.

When in Cornwall, have a pastie!!  Much like champagne from the Champagne region of France, the Cornish Pastie has to come from Cornwall, or it can't use that name.  It was very tasty and filling, which was its original purpose, to fill the hungry, hard-working miners and farmers, not peckish tourists.  Meat, potatoes and onions, all in one handy, hand-held packet.  The "salad" in the background is to give the meal the illusion of health!  PS - it is pronounced like "nasty," not like "hasty."

Now here is a surprise!  We are now in Penzance, and I guess full marks for not feeling the need to change the original name of this street.

A rather interesting building in Penzance.  We really didn't know what to think.

The Admiral Benbow Inn, a 17th century pub that is partly built out of, and contains remnants of, shipwrecks.  There are tunnels leading into it that were used to smuggle rum and whisky without the knowlege of the tax man.

Atop the pub, a watchman keeps and eye out for either pirates or the government.

Teddy, Alfie and Wolfie tried to mingle with one of the locals, but he never really relaxed.

Plymouth Rocks! (get it?)

Rain.

The next day brought us the only rain on our holiday, but it was a day of driving over to Plymouth, so we weren't too disappointed, as it allowed us to just plow ahead and make good time.  Fortunately, the sun did indeed shine on Plymouth, so we had a wonderful afternoon exploring the city.

Rick had an epiphany - Devon cider!  We stopped at a place near our hotel, and right on the harbour, for an afternoon tipple, where we discovered over 40 ciders on tap (or in boxes), which turned out to be nirvana.  During our entire time using Plymouth as our base, we ate as often as we could there, not only because of their lavish assortment of ciders, but also a very intriguing selection of pizzas, their other specialty (I remember Rick having the Lamb Roast pizza while I had the Plympton Pecker).  I don't remember my favourite cider, but Rick's two faves were Black Rat Vintage and Westons Old Rosie, as I recall. 

On our route, we stopped at this hotel/pub for lunch.  The food was passable, but when Bob was paying, it turns out that they don't take Scottish pounds as payment.  Now, this is a big issue with the Scots, as their pounds are actually no different from English pounds, but there are places in England, like this one, that refuse to take them.  We could have had a nice big argument with the landlord, but we just headed off with a bad attitude instead.  If you find yourself in this area of the country, give this place a miss.

Our first view of Plymouth Harbour, or at least a section of it.  What a tranquil setting, and the perfect time to find our afternoon refreshment.

Which we did, here, which is a small chain in the English southwest.  We can't recommend this place more highly.

Three thirsty travellers and two pints of cider.  The bloody battle that ensued disturbed the tranquility and left us embarassed.  Honestly, travelling with these 3 really takes it out of you!

An example of the old buildings lining our part of the harbour.

It was down these very steps that the pilgrims left Plymouth for North America.  They did use a ship, they didn't just walk into the water.  That would have been silly.

Just in case you thought we were imagining things.

Boom!  We really wish we had ignored the little sign next to the fuse that said "light me." 

Plymouth is an interesting place.  While we found Brighton to be neglected and tatty, Plymouth has a waterfront that is run down, but in a rather fascinating way.  It is almost as if you are visiting some old ruins as opposed to simply neglect.  Hard to explain, really.

More of the waterfront.

While this may look like the remains of a once glorious swimming pool, we were assured that it is spruced up and used in the summer months.  It would be fun to visit it when it is full of happy splashers.

Beyond the lido pool, on the other side.

A lovely old hotel.

Part of the harbour in the twilight.  As was said before, very peaceful indeed.

Outside our hotel, in the middle of a roundabout, sit the ruins of this church.  The more modern looking building behind it is a shopping mall.  Once again, the old and the new.

On our evening wander window shopping down the old streets and alleyways, we came across Plymouth Gin, which we had forgotten should have been distilled here (the clue is in the name).  Sorry gin, but the cider won the day!