Our trip to the British Isles 12 September to 14 September Cornwall
to Ireland Thursday 12 September Left
the hotel at 8:34, back across the Tamar Bridge, but not before witnessing
an accident with the truck in front of the bus who ran a stop sign and
got smucked by a car, which just so happened was in front of a police
car, so there was no need for us to stop as witnesses!
After crossing the Tamar we headed north on A388.
The road seemed to be a bit rough, and the countryside not quite
as neat and well farmed as what we had seen up to this point.
On to B3257, a single laner with bushes brushing the bus on both
sides! Had to back up once to let a lorry pass. Then on A30 and the Bodmin Moor. Caroline warned us of the Beast of Bodwin
Moor, believed to be a puma released or escaped from somewhere. Apparently kills sheep. From intersection with A30 we went west 3 or
4 miles to the Jamaica Inn, the setting for The Inn on the Moor
by Daphne du Maurier. From there
we backtracked to A395 and some lesser roads to Tintagel. It was in a castle in Tintagel that King Arthur
is reputed to have been born, with Merlin living in a cave under the castle
so as to be able to protect him. A
very beautiful area, just begging for one to spent hours walking the trails
to and through the old ruins and along the sea cliffs. However,
we did not have time for this, so back in the bus and on to the village
of Tintagel for a stop to visit the old post office building, built in
the 13th century. A sagging roof but still structurally sound.
An open market in the parking lot provided a shopping time for
some. At 12:00 we headed out of
Tintagel and on to Boscastle, 3 miles up the coast, for lunch and loo
stop. Boscastle was a fishing
village but it seems that tourism would be the main industry now.
The narrow fiord from the Atlantic has a couple of right-angle
turns in it, making it difficult for a boat to maneuver to shelter, but
when in behind the breakwater and the headland, it has little to fear
from the worst of storms. Again, a great place for hiking, and this time
Lois and I walked up to the headland, a ½ mile or so from the parking
area. Several others from the
group did likewise. Back on bus
at 1:30 and reached the Visitors’ Centre at Clovelly at 2:25. Clovelly is unique in several ways: it was mentioned in the Doomsday
book (1086 AD), the village is owned by the Rous family, it has been owned
by only three families since the time of William the Conqueror, supplies
are taken to the 80 some houses in the village by donkeys hauling sledges,
there is no vehicular traffic on the main street, and no wheeled carts
either! The street is cobbled
as is – for the most part - the path from the Visitor Centre to the village. It is the most photographed village in England,
and one must pay a fee to enter the village! £3.50 in 2002. Quite an
experience! On our
way to A39 we met a tractor trimming the hedge alongside the road.
Hedges get quite bushy if unattended and this reduces visibility
for traffic. Apparently the government
has recently passed a law making the owner of the property responsible
for trimming. Many hedges were
trimmed but this was the first we saw a trimmer up close.
Got to our hotel in Barnstaple, the Royal & Fortescue,
at 5:00 PM. A very enjoyable hotel
both for room comfort and supper and breakfast.
Friday 13 September Leave
at 8:26. Started on A361 through
Exmoor – Lorna Doone country. The
book Lorna Doone was written by R D Blackmore and is set in this
moorland with Tiverton being the main town in the story.
We passed through Tiverton at 9:20.
Meanwhile our guide Caroline read us a short synopsis of Lorna
Doone. From Barnstaple to Tiverton the land was hilly
and steep, though the hills were not very high. There were sheep and cattle and lots of trees. Just beyond Tiverton we got on M5 for several miles, skirting the Blackdown Hills, until we reached A39, the road to Glastonbury. A diversion (detour) meant several back roads but eventually Gary got us to the location of the ruined Glastonbury Abbey. Since I have heard of the legends associated with Glastonbury, I felt that I must tour it, and it was an excellent place to spend 45 minutes. Even though the abbey is in Ruins, there was enough of it standing to easily give the impression of immensity and grandeur. The ruins sit on several acres of lawn, and the surrounding walls keep out most of the traffic noise, giving a true sense of peace and tranquility. All too soon my time there was up and I went back to reality and the bus. Caroline had said that St Patrick and his very good friend St Bridget were buried here but I saw no reference to them on the abbey grounds. It is evident that if you have read this epistle that Lois and I often have lunches of bread and cheese or liverwurst or some other thing. It is not just because we are miserly. After the huge breakfast we had every morning we found that a restaurant lunch was not necessary, that we required only the bread and …. plus an apple or a cookie or other treat. It also meant we could sit in a park or a square or grounds of a cathedral or castle and enjoy the fresh air and beauty of the surroundings. We did not have to line up at lunch counter or wait for a waiter/waitress to serve us while we studied the cracks in the walls. And, of course, there is the cost factor. For example, lunch in Dublin at the Kilkenny Café on Nassau St we had two small bowls of soup @ €2.85, two slabs of semi-stale bread @ €0.50 and two pads of butter @ €0.15, a total of €7.00. In Canadian funds this is $10.60. The next day at Dunne’s Store food section we bought salads, rolls and a pint of milk each for a euro or two less than that price, and had lunch in St Stephen’s Green, a lovely setting. After a great buffet breakfast we went
to Cardiff Castle and had a guided tour of the Third Marquis of Bute’s
upgrading. He was the richest man in the world in the last half of the 19th
century and certainly spent a lot of his fortune renovating and decorating
the castle. Time ran out before
we got to see everything within the castle grounds. The Welsh name for Cardiff is Caerdydd. Caer means fort or fortress; Dydd
was the Welsh emperor when the Romans came.
The Welsh language is Gaelic closely related to Cornish and Breton. It has a 28 letter alphabet – most of our ABC’s
plus digraphs such as double l’s, d’s and f’s, and
th and gh. About
1 in 5 speak Welsh, with Carmarthen being the town of greatest density
of Welsh speakers. Coal and slate
for roofs were the two main industries for years, but cheaper foreign
coal imports put a halt to coal mining, and the slate tiles have been
replaced by cheaper clay tiles. There
are iron and steel mills in Port Talbot, and signs of lumbering on the
distant hills, though this would not be a major industry as there are
so few forests. Farming is carried on all along the route we followed. From Cardiff we passed through or bypassed Port Talbot, Swansea (in Welsh: Abertawe. Aber means at the mouth of a river and the river is the Tawe), Carmarthen (which means Fortress of Merlin. Merlin is buried in a cave under Merlin’s Hill, whereabouts unknown), and stopped at Tenby on Carmarthen Bay for lunch. Tenby means little fort of the fishes and was a walled town offering protection from the French and Spaniards in bygone days. From Tenby it is only 11 miles to Pembroke where we caught the ferry to Rosslare, Ireland. We arrived at the dock in Rosslare at 6:50 and went directly to our hotel in Tramore, arriving at 8:20. |
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