Travel with Manfred

Travelogues from around the world

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Copyright © 1996 by Manfred P.. All rights reserved.

Aug 30 till Sep 2, 1996

A Trip to the End of this Earth

Land's End and the English Riviera

by

Manfred P.

Keywords: Land's End, South West England, British beaches and coastlines, English Riviera, Cornwall, tourist, travel trip report, travel log, travelogue.

English Riviera

In a single swoop without stopping to smell the roses I made it to Bournemouth, Dorchester, and Bridport. The trip really started when I swallowed a mouthful of towns: Sidmouth, Exmouth, and so on. They are average coastal towns like in Central South of the UK or like town in Florida for that matter. Nothing especially exciting or to write home about. The coastal real estate was shared by retirement homes and bed-and-breakfast places with the former being in the suburban parts and the latter in the center. The sight was similar in many towns: elderly people strolling down the beach boulevard, tourists shopping in the town centers, and cops patrolling the safe neighborhoods on the hunt for parking violations. I am sure bingo night is a big event. It was relaxing and like many others I enjoyed the peaceful surroundings, the beautiful sunshine and the warm weather.

While hopping from town to town, from village to village with frequent stops and walks, I ran across an ad "Torquay - English Riviera". I skeptically smiled and thought to myself "Yeah right". I expected another town just like the ones mentioned above. Cruising along the coast I got into a built up area again and when the road made a lengthy turn my breath was suddenly taken away. Holy molly. This does look like Monte Carlo. It was great timing - unplanned of course. The sun was setting and throwing reddish sparkles onto the calm water of the yacht harbor. The boats of the rich and famous were gently moved back and forth and the harbor was in a bay so that one could see the town embracing it. Like Monaco Torquay had some small high rise buildings, all in white. Flowers were blooming in the parks and the traffic islands. A few small palm trees gave it Mediterranean flair. A warm evening breeze swept through the car windows and the lights along the harbor esplanade gave the town that special glamorous Riviera feeling. And just like in Monaco or Nice the harbor boulevard was jammed and the long string of red bake lights added even more to the recollection of memories. Music came across the harbor from a fair and I cruised up and down the whole area twice to let the feeling sink in. I underestimated the possibilities, after all the "English Riviera" was no lie.

But it should get even better. I ran across another town beautifully decorated with flowers and coastal views. Near Paignton is a cove and I used the opportunity to go for a walk. It was after sunset but before darkness, again perfect timing. I had the whole cove to myself. Just great. No soul around, just nature (let's ignore the fact that there were restrooms and a paved path). For a moment I had to think about Maui, Hawaii. The hills surrounding the cove were steep and covered with trees and greenery. The water picture-perfectly green and clean. I enjoyed having this sight all to myself. Must be my selfish personality. I stood there and inhaled the scenery. I am a believer in the saying that the best things in life are free. This is just another proof. What a wonderful way to end the day.

A Graveyard off the Beaten Path

Having not much of a plan I drove along the narrow country roads which all have 5 to 6 feet high walls to both sides. Quite fascinating. I guess that's why they call the district "Cornwall". Seriously, this stone wall making is a craftsmanship, a skill, maybe even an artform. These walls are everywhere, lining the roads, separating the fields, and so on. Their official name is Cornish hedges. The government pays the farmers to keep and maintain these walls as they are vital parts of the charm of the region, are part of the local culture and heritage, and reduce the required levels of pesticides. A study has shown that the shrub covered walls are home to insect fighting animals and have such significant positive impact that pesticides can be reduced by 30 percent. An environmentally good solution. Driving on these wall lined country roads is a lot of fun too. The roads are so narrow sometimes that they just fit a single car and one would have to back up for a quarter mile to the next possibility to pass. The intersections have either no signs or six to eight signs out of which I can't find a single name in my map. I just keep guessing and follow my gut feeling. It works well as the journey itself is the destination anyway. Some of these roads are overgrown with trees forming marvelous tunnels. Occasionally the greenery is so dense that the tunnel becomes mystically dark. Scary.

Eventually I run into this little village on a river. Most likely it is some place ending in "-mouth". I stretched out in the grass on the nearly dry river with my eyes closed and had the skin soak up the heat. Feels good. Some lazy stretching exercises readied me for the day. Coming to think of it, when did my fingers touch my toes last?

After working my way semi-randomly around the beaches off the beaten path I found another lovely small beach surrounded and embraced by two hills with bushes and trees. The water was unbelievably clean and had a bright light green color. While I was too wimpy to go for a swim (not having bathing shorts might have had something to do with it also) I splish-splashed through the shallow water. I couldn't get enough for an hour. The beach was in a great setting. A quarter mile of light brown sand, very shallow water, encircled on three sides by green hills, only a small road leading to the beach, just two houses and a small number of visitors in sight. Looking out onto the ocean other parts of the Cornish coast line were visible including a misty image of Falmouth Castle. This place was the most beautiful beach I have been to in England. Forget places like Eastbourne. They don't even come close. This beach made the whole trip worth it. I'll never generalize that British beaches are boring again.

I had to drag myself away from this beach. Further on I found a church at the end of a dead-end road. As you can expect it was centuries old and girdled by a graveyard. While most people wouldn't call a graveyard a nice sight, this one was. It was a grass-only graveyard disallowing pebble or marble enclosures as well as flowers. Only upright gravestones separated by grass were allowed. This gave the graveyard the sense of uniformity, honesty, modesty and simplicity. But this humbleness was complemented by the beauty of the location: right on the edge of a hill overlooking the coast with the ocean and the sky blue and as far reaching as the eye could see. You can tell, I was moved. This is as nice as a resting place could get. Peaceful too as it is far away from the rest of the world.

To end the day I strolled along the coastal path around Lizard. The coastal path is a great outdoor experience, a trail tens of miles long following the Cornish coast. In most cases the trail is just yards from the cliffs. One can walk for days, from beach to beach, cove to cove. I only walked for a couple of hours. Lizard is only famous for one thing: being the southern most spot in England. As such it has "major" attractions: the southern most gift shop which was closed, a life boat station that was abandoned, and a light house that was decommissioned. The air was fresh and the soil along the coastal path soft; that is all that counted.

Land's End

Everyone knows Saint Michelle. It has a brother in England: St. Michael Mount. A monastery built centuries ago on a tiny island 300 yards offshore. It is connected with the mainland through a road which is under the sea during high tide but usable for pedestrians at low tide. My morning exercise I had at a cove west of Mousehole. Thereafter I lazily rested on a rock watching scuba divers and the clouds.

Meandering around I ended up at Minack Theater built into the cliffs. I remember seeing a report about it on telly (that's "TV" for you Americans). It's a renowned theater showing masterpieces of British artists, primarily Shakespeare. Besides its unorthodox setting in an open air environment overlooking the ocean it is also famous for freezing temperatures during the evening performances. Right next to the theater is yet another noteworthy beach, Porthcurno, that had attracted dozens of people. The water was as attractive as before. Emerald green, clean, and cold as ice. However, that didn't matter because after a few minutes of walking ankle-deep through the shallow part I couldn't feel my toes anymore anyway. Other people must have cold-resistance because they were swimming around without a wet suit. The smaller neighboring coves were more deserted and one of them had a nearly white sand bank just in front of it like you would expect it on a tropical postcard. The weather was temperamental with mood swings. The contradicting facts of sunshine and the build-up of dark clouds added spice to the flair.

Finally I made it. Land's End. It's highly overrated to say the least. As the name indicates it is the western most point of England. Maybe in days gone by people thought this to be the end of this earth. Looking for a shortcut I ended up hiking an hour along the northern part of the coast. It is a little rougher here than in the south, but not dissimilar. Among other things I was also crawling around the cliffs when I suddenly got scared; not that I could slip but that my car keys could slip out of my pockets of my shorts. Land's End is highly commercialized, I guess that is why I don't like it. Helicopter rides are available, at the parking lot is a full entertainment center with everything from screaming kids on fun rides to fast food and gift stores.

Now I had seen enough of beaches. I hopped into the car, cranked up the radio to an unhealthy level where the car would have moved even without an engine, had Los Del Rios blasting from the speakers, rolled down the windows, and revved the engine. With the pedal to the metal I headed northwards on country roads hugged by Cornish hedges. Villages flew by and the cold air streaming in felt good on my slightly sunburned skin. It was raining off the coast and mist came up the hills. A mysterious touch with mist clouds being pushed across the road. By the time I mellowed out and slowed down I was in St. Ives. The mist was gone and the town looked nice and friendly under the yellow sun. Regardless, I was not in the mood of staying.

Shortly after 7 p.m. I pulled over in Portreath and checked into a bread-and-breakfast place before continuing down to the beach where I pulled into the parking lot next to four other cars. Jointly we watched the surfers at sunset and enjoyed the last sun beams of the day. I stayed on to have my dinner - Manfred style: carrots, tomatoes, bread and cookies.

Idyllic Lynton Gorge

The final highlight of the day was the gorge in Lynton/Lynmouth. Lush shrubs and dense forest surround the river that ate its way through the rock and dug a deep valley. The road winds its steep way down into the twin town on the ocean. It was the perfect spot for "bus meets truck". Needless to say that they couldn't pass each other. So cars stopped on both sides and we all got out and started discussing who would should backup first. An interesting game, especially watching the people that were in a rush. It all ended peacefully though.

Summary