Cornwall and Devon Summer 2014

Taking a half day from work I tell the office that they may be able to contact me by texting my personal mobile in an emergency if I have a signal on my Cornish cliff top campsite by Friday lunchtime I've signed off and ready to pack the car before setting off west along the M3 (traffic not great but not bad considering first day of the school holidays) and down the A303 before stopping off at my brother's for a catchup and sustenance. Saturday morning we set off bright and early through a hot sun. We is me, Jack and Maya as Lily-Rose is holidaying the first week with friends and Debbie is working til Thursday. Drive again isn't too bad except for crawling over Bodmin Moor and we're at George's Field early afternoon. We pitch in a sea mist which soon clears to sunshine then go into St Agnes and wander down to the beach which is pretty minimal as the sea is in. Back at the site we meet up with Bruce and Khaldoun and the Yorkshire contingent Malcolm, Lisa, Catherine and Tony. The latter and I go chumping then after the barbeque we have a roaring fire during which we're joined by a couple of kids from across the vast empty field (that's the beauty of George's Field) and then their mother comes over to get them and stays entranced by the fire only going when her kids have run off and husband joins us. A good first night and after two early starts the sleeping bag is welcomed.

St Agnes cottages

Sunday is overcast but dry so us three and Bruce & Khaldoun cycle through St Agnes and on to Chapel Porth Beach. The winter storms have stripped about 6 foot depth of sand from the cove so now it's rocks with a bit of sand rather than the vast beach that you could walk along to the next bay and beach. We swim a bit and then tackle the killer hill back up the valley then back to camp. By this time Ramsay, Jo, Poppy and Maisie have arrived and we cycle / car to Perranporth for a drink at the beach bar before tackling the hill back to Trevallas to cook supper and then crowd around our camp fire which nearly causes a Cornish bush fire on the tinder dry grass. Get to bed just as the heavens open  allaying any fears that a rogue ember will jump out and burn the tents down. First day of our non working week sees drizzle and showers so we hot foot it into Truro with the Palmers to see Dawn of the Planet of the Apes and by the time they've started their dominance in the late afternoon the sun is out with a vengeance. We wander round Truro and the impressive cathedral twice before finding a decent pub for a swift one then back to George's Field stopping off at the Miners Arms in Mithian. Jo makes a fantastic chilli for tea then it's warming ourselves round the fire listening to Malcolm's beat box. Tuesday starts very hot driving us out of the nylon tents and I get sunburnt knees poking out of the shade of the porch. I go for a solo ride through St Agnes and up to The Beacon but as it's an off road flinty track I need to get off and push to get to the trig point at the top where I can see for miles and miles. Once back to the tent we chill in the hot sun before hitting Perranporth beach just as the sun goes in. We attempt to surf for a while and the sea temperature is pretty mild although hardly mediterranean so it's off to the beach bar for a quickie before going back to the camp site to stoke up the barbie and, yeah, sit around the fire with Malcolm's Late Night Boom Box Request Show for entertainment; request a group / song and Malcolm plays it or the nearest thing he has. Spotify it ain't.

Chapel Porth beach bereft of sand

There may be surfers ahead...

Sunday Sunset

View from the camp

Sunset watching

So it does shine out of Ramsay's proverbial

From St Agnes Beacon towards our campsite

View from the Beacon

Another gorgeous sunset

Farmer Georges Field aka Trevellas Manor Farm

Wednesday starts sweltering as yesterday so we drive to Holywell Bay for lunch and a laze on the beach then search for cricket umpire stones, perfectly smooth white and same sizes, with Bruce for his club lead umpire. Back home me and the kids go for a walk through the local airfield and over the cliff tops before dropping down to the beach along from St Agnes and then up the valley past the tin mine chimneys and into a beautiful shady wood with stream tumbling down. Once back I drive Bruce to the Miners Arms to find out if there is an open mic tomorrow, disappointed, and after a swift one we're back to help Khaldoun with his mega That curry for 17 (seventeen) which we eat sat civilised at candlelit tables in the dark wondering what the rest of the campers must think of us. We already know they don't like us due to either noise or more likely jealousy. Need I say we have a fire to end the night. Thursday excited as Debbie arrives in the afternoon. Yay! A thankfully cooler start to the day and chill out in the morning in the hazy sun before driving through Truro and into St Clements for a short estuary walk. Meet Debbie from the train and drive back to camp then into St Agnes for the pop quiz where the Southerners' Three Donkey Pile Up team beat the Northerners handsomely winning a bottle of wine then onto another pub to watch a Welsh band who are very good when lively and singing the drunken sailor song. Back to camp we have a quick burst of the fire that's stoking before turning in. Friday is an overcast morning turning to heavy rain then persistent rain all day. Not a great start for Debbie. We hang around the tents with Bruce and Khaldoun chatting and chilling out. Failed bbq attempt gives way to stove cooking then we all huddle into our tent being joined by the Palmer clan making us 10 and cosy.

Cliff top walk

Atop the cliffs

Tin Mine Valley

Tin Mines

The Mega Thai Curry in progress

Started as we meant to go on - look and weep Palmers!

Saturday we're up early, too early the kids moan, to pack the partially dry tents before saying our goodbyes to one and all and we depart for our Combe Martin cottage picking up Lily-Rose en route so we're all together again. A modern robust fixed holiday home awaits us which to be honest feels nicer than last years poky old world cottage as it's spacious and light. We hope the rooster and chickens have good lie ins and don't wake us too early. Sunday sees us having a leisurely breakfast and drying and airing some of our damp camping stuff. Then off to Combe Martin beach for a blast of hot sun, often popping out of the clouds, and a swim for me and the kids. Dark clouds threaten and drop a few spits of rain on us then back to the cottage to coax the bbq into action and cook vegan sausages next to the local butchers marinaded sausage and chicken which is now the responsibility of Jack to tend. Monday we awake to another beautifully sunny morning with the resident rooster crowing at a fairly reasonable hour. At least I didn't hear him if he was crowing at 5am. A leisurely breakfast then early afternoon we drive to Lynton and through the Valley of the Rocks to the gorgeous Lee Bay next to the abbey grounds. We don't swim but stand on the boulders as the waves come in then do a bit of rock clambering. Then for the very steep drive up the single track coastal route rewarded with amazingly beautiful views along the cliffs. We lunch at the pub at Blackmoor Gate then back home to relax for the rest of the afternoon. Maya and I go for a short / long (distance / time) bike ride towards Parracombe going up and down some very steep and narrow lanes one so steep that in my lowest gear my skinny tyres are slipping on the mossy gravel as I turn the pedals and I have to give up and push. Again, the reward is a lovely dipping sun viewed down the valley towards Combe Martin. We get home just as Debbie and Lily-Rose return from shopping and after a tasty tea we settle down to watch Rush.

Beautiful and Vicious

Lee Beach

Lee Beach waves

Lee Beach again

Lee Beach cove

Devon is Heaven

Rolling hills of the north Exmoor coastline

Our garden - note hens and tent drying

Maya stopping for picturesque rest

Sun coming down over Combe Martin

Maya rests before tacking the false flat

Tuesday another gorgeous morning with a few grey clouds passing overhead. The usual leisurely breakfast before we realise it's noon so wake the boy and feverish activity to get out of our abode. As the day is glorious we go to Putsborough beach which is the far end of Woolacombe sands. Definitely need suncream and we swim and body board before and after lunch. Mid afternoon clouds over ominously and we pack and go thinking about a walk through the woods near home but by the time we reach Higher Dean Cottage it's raining cats and dogs so ensconce ourselves in the dry and warm for the evening. Mid week we wake to the rooster cock a doodle dooing on our veranda and it's a lovely sunny morning again. We're all awake earlyish and Jack and I go for a two hour bike ride through Parracombe up and down some vicious hills. Get back and the girls are out horse riding, well, not Debs but she stays with them. Whilst getting bike stuff in I accidentally turn and nearly step on the rooster who then attacks my leg pecking a hole in the skin. After that the next couple of times I leave the safely of the house the damn thing goes for me and I resort to carrying a broom handle to fend it off. Of course the girls think it's hilarious that I'm clutching a broom whilst eating lunch with the rooster stalking up and down the fence giving me the evil eye. Later in the afternoon we drive to Hunters Inn and walk down the lovely valley to Heddon Mouth for a photo shoot on the rocks with various posing and jumping in the air.

Surfing at Putsborough sands

Heddon valley

Heddon Valley kids

Heddon Valley Heart

Heddon's Mouth - spot Lily-Rose

Debbie and Maya

Lily-Rose

Stars

Rock hopping

Racing

Thursday yet another glorious day and I'm up early for a cycle leaving just after 8am and getting back 4 hours later. Just about make it up the really steep hills through Parracombe and just past Lynton, and coming down is just as hard on gravelly surfaces, before a long though enjoyable ascent onto Exmoor then down into my homeland of Somerset and Simonsbath. Shady country lanes and moorland back to Blackmoor Gate and on the way home down the road towards Combe Martin I just can't bring myself to stop as the rapid descent is so much fun and within minutes I find myself at Combe Martin beach. Bracing myself for the long climb back to where we're staying I have a packet of peanuts and a half of cider at the The Focsle Inn overlooking the beach then it's up some ridiculously steep hills and yes, at the start I had to get off and push for about 20 yards or so. By this time the sun is really beating down where there are trees I cycle on the wrong side of the road in the shade. I'm going the back route rather than the main road I cycled down and after the really steep start it sort of flattens out so my heart beat goes out of the danger zone and I sail back to the cottage. After recovery and lunch and after the girls get back from horse riding we all go into Woolacombe to sit on the very crowded and hot beach cooling off in the tepid water catching the surf. Barbeque in the evening then after another Lily-Rose quiz we're off to bed where I sleep like a log. Friday another beautiful day of sun, we've been so lucky these past two weeks, but everyone sleeps in til mid morning. After lunch we drive to Lynton where the girls shop and Jack and I stop at the Valley of the Rocks and go on a cliff top walk spotting goats and a deer. Debbie calls to say she's found a lovely vintage French bike to replace her broken Dutch one and once we all meet up in town we pay the antique shop owner saying we'll collect next day. In the evening we have chips on Combe Martin beach then Jack, Maya and myself walk along the rocks exploring a cave and we all watch the beautiful sun set. A great end to our last day of the holiday.

The dawn chorus sees me off nice and early

Steep climb from the Lynton junction

Cattle grids welcome you to the moors

Toward the Bristol Channel

Mid morning rest and snack spot

Combe Martin beach - before the brutal ascent home

Garmin map of ride - http://connect.garmin.com/activity/559577031 - I didn't reach 51 mph! max was 35

The wide open sands of Woolacombe Beach

Moorland cliff goat

Sunset over Combe Martin bay on our last evening

Saturday morning we awake to torrential rain. We pack the car during the breaks and make for the A303 after picking up Debbie's new bike in Lynton and meandering over Exmoor. 8 hours after leaving Combe Martin we arrive back in Balham. A long journey but worth it as we're now in glorious sunshine again. We're all weary after the drive and worried about Casper the Cat who turns up after a couple of hours missing his collar and cat flap magnet. And thinner. Good to be back home but great memories of a fantastic holiday. When the sun's out there is nowhere better in the world than the West Country to relax in.

French Trip

Following last year's successful ride along the Kennet and Avon Canal we arrange a jaunt to Simon's place in France which has an inauspicious start as Chris can't make the date we've booked. Regardless Simon, myself and Pete book a cosy cabin on the ferry and agree to not play football on the Wednesday in case of foot injuries. I instead go along to a leaving drinks at work and whilst popping into Rough Trade to pick up a Field Day ticket catch a few songs by Gallon Drunk. A successful avoidance of 5-a-side injuries. Unfortunately Pete is persuaded to go along and manages to damage his hand which by Friday late afternoon is in a plaster so he can't drive down to Portsmouth let alone cycle for 3 days. He's gutted and it's a real shame for Simon and me. Cue last minute train bookings to and from the south coast. Weird as the last time I went to France cycling with Simon we met Tony Benn on the late night Portsmouth London train and he's passed away today. RIP Tony you were a delight to listen to both when we met and on various rally and festival stages. I leave the house in my ferry gear rather than full on cycling gear which is black (lightweight) trousers and red socks. Debbie thinks I look like a nutter as she waves me off but when I reach Simon's and see his pedal pushers and stripey socks I don't feel so bad. Jules captures le grand depart with a photo and after a quick ride to Waterloo we catch the train and kick back with a couple of decent Wolfie Smith Tooting brewed beers ingredients water barley Marxism which is appropriate and in celebration of Mr Benn. The politician not the TV character.

We arrive Portsmouth and cycle the mile or so to the ferry port through the desolate town centre and find a lone cyclist waiting to board. After a thorough security check with our panniers going through an x-ray machine, although oddly only the ones we could easily remove so only the ones we wanted to be scanned, we board the boat and check into the cabin which isn't quite so cosy with only the 2 of us. After a couple of beers in the disco bar full of kids doing synchronised dancing we make our way back to the cabin and settle down for a short night's sleep. I sleep well and am awakened at an unearthly hour by a loud french version of greensleeves which is a horrible way to wake. Simon complains of a broken night due to vibrations, nothing to do with me, and we make our way to the complimentary breakfast bar to stock up on carbs and protein. After docking we disembark in the cold overcast early morning and start cycling up the coast.

Streatham startline

Cosy Cabin

We travel north past the Normandy WWII landing beaches which still have pill boxes and off shore concrete structures. Odd as last year when cycling along the canal we passed lots of pill boxes as it was a potential line of defence in the event of invasion. There are some massive gothic piles along this stretch which are deserted and obviously holiday homes. After 10 miles we turn inland to Bayeux and just past there we stop at a small town for a cafe alonge (that's cafe noir in francs from what I can make out) at the Cafe de Paris which extends a welcome to the British* people and our queen and is full of camo gear flick knives knuckle dusters and mobile phone stun guns. Maybe the welcome they extend is not as benevolent as first supposed. (*On re-reading the photo I realise that it's the English that are welcome, wonder what they have against Scots, Welsh and Irish). After a further few miles we pass an uninviting looking river with a picturesque bridge and Simon can't resist a swim seeing as I refused to stop on the beaches and he chills himself right down. Off again and up a long stretch of road leading to a lovely bar at a cross roads at Les Champs-de-Losque. Simon's starting to struggle a little and spends more than his fair share of time in my slipstream. The wind is pretty strong in our faces and it's hard going especially as still pretty chilly out so muscles not as warm as could be. We're wondering why Simon's suffering. He gave me a vintage Campagnolo shirt on the ferry as an early birthday present and he thinks it has some magical properties and possibly once belonged to a cycling great like Mercx. I think it'd due to muscle contraction during his cold water swimming, until I learn that he gave a pint of blood on Thursday evening which in retrospect he begrudgingly admits wasn't the wisest timing. We've done 50 miles in 4 hours which isn't bad going and after a beer and cheery wave off from the couple who run the bar we're back on the road. The scenery is very similar to southern England and we could be in Dorset with it's rolling hills. It's lovely. Ten miles on we stop for lunch, frites from a market stall, in Periers and I wander round the church. Around, not in, as can't get in unlike most English churches. Back in the saddle we get onto a disused railway that is a cycle way so fairly good surface but we steadily climb and it's the worst part of the day for me. Maybe post chip lethargy. After a steep descent we then tackle the short ascent into Coutances where I visit the cathedral which I love especially when they're practicing the organ which unfortunately they're not today. I light a votive candle thinking of a few who've left us. We stock up on fresh fruit and veg before leaving the city to climb towards Simon's gaff. It's pretty damn steep around Coutances and after a weary climb we race downhill clocking over 30mph before meandering lanes to our destination. We fall off our bikes tired but happy and whilst still nippy the sun comes out and enjoy a well deserved beer in the back garden. Simon cooks a hearty meal whilst I lounge around in Jules' chair stoking the fire and we stay up far too late sampling French red wine and Scottish whiskey.

Not the French Riviera

Gothic Pile

English queens welcome but not those from Scotland. How times have changed.

Simon cooling off in the sweltering heat

Where the hell are we

Jimmy Mercx

Why do people take unflattering selfies...

The picturesque long haul railroad

Day One - bang on 80 miles counting hills

Sunday morning we're fighting fit and after a breakfast of coffee and leftovers we cycle to the beach at Hauteville sur Mer la Plage where Simon goes for a dip. Although tempted it's too far to wade out and too shallow and too damn cold and windy. It's a lovely sunny day though and we cycle though beautiful scenery marvelling at how much mistletoe is on the trees. Reminds me of Asterix the Gaul. Back home Simon makes me earn my keep by helping paint a bedroom then my turn to cook and we spend the evening playing backgammon (I regain some credibility after last night's massacre) and reminiscing about our 35 years of friendship over his collection of fast depleting fine whiskey.

Yew tree and church

The last hill

Monday it's back home and last night we decided to get the train to Bayeux and cycle more along the coast. It's another chilly day with a hint of moisture in the air but don't get wet on the way into Coutances. Turns out the train is in fact a bus for half the journey and we have to put the bikes into the luggage space on a special bike holding and sliding contraption which turns out to be useless as various components and accessories get caught in the mechanism. After loosening bits to get the bikes to fit we board the bus to face the other passengers who are now running late. Drizzle on the way then we change to a proper train which has luxurious seating on into Bayeux. A few miles to the coast at Arromanches where Simon has his daily dip and as I'm getting bored watching him swim every day I jump in for a dip before him. When I say go for a dip it's literally that. After a few strokes swimming I am chilled literally to the bone and pretty much seize up. Making it back to shore I get out freezing but to be fair it seems a lot warmer in the air than when I jumped in the water. Simon goes for a lengthy swim and as we stand around changing we get very surprised looks from the few folk who are promenading wrapped up in hats and scarves like anyone sensible would. Opposite to mad dogs and Englishmen and the midday sun. Wonder if mad dogs also swim in near frozen water. After a steep ascent out of Arromanches it's fairly easy cycling along the coast path mainly along the sea front and we're at the ferry port with lots of time so have a spot of lunch. My vegan fare is an expensive salad but as it has at least a tin of asparagus on it is pretty good value. Boat trip back is uneventful and restful then the last train back to Clapham Junction and the ride back home is comfortable too. As the twitteratti would say, falls into bed and sleeps.

Panoramic view of an icy sea scene. Struggling to get limbs to work properly.

Post swimming peanut guzzling

Twinned with Simon's birthplace, Emsworth. Note the Bath reference too.

French menu, can't see a green leaf denoting vegetarian let alone vegan. Beer's tasty though.

Super Salad

  

Why can't you ever find what you want in a pannier

We meet up with Pete after football on the Wednesday to regale him with our tales and to see him going green with envy. He's gutted he's missed the trip and won't be playing footie for at least a month or so.

Sicily 2013

The four of us start off at midday Saturday getting a taxi to Balham station where it starts drizzling and with the forecast of much worse to come so much so that Simon has his barge holiday cancelled. Only the 4 of us as Maya elects to stay in miserable London as a more likely place for revising for Maths GCSEs than in sunny Sicily. We constantly miss her and I'm always looking for 5 tables around the table when there's only 4 of us. The journey goes very smoothly although we've near misses at both ends as we're 48 hours before a hurricane in south England and Etna erupts Saturday morning closing Sicilian airspace for a few hours before we arrive. We're navigated to the villa by our effusive Sicilian landlady who compensates for a lack of English with arm waving and shouting. Which is the usual British way of getting foreigners to understand us. Mistakenly. The villa is lovely and can sleep 12 so we have plenty of space both inside and out. Sunday I wake early and see the sunrise setting the mountains red before going back to bed. When I reappear we see just how gorgeous the setting is with mountains around us and the beautifully blue med out front with yachts skidding past. The only sound is the pooting of fishing boats out beyond the bay.

Cactus Trees

Back view with prickly pears

Home

Breakfast

We're in Scopello to the west of Palermo in Trapani province and it's a short hop in our sporty Alfa Romeo Giulietta into Castellammare del Golfo to the supermarket to pick up supplies then into the local greengrocers for our goodness foods including Romanesco broccoli bigger than footballs and serious looking fan-like fungi. Weekly chores out the way we wake Jack and take the 5 minute cliff walk down to the sea and our own secluded pebbly and rocky cove. A perfect place to swim and relax taking turns floating in the salty sea and diving in off the rocks into the crystal clear water. And it's warm so much so than our usual bracing Atlantic swims off Devon and Cornwall.

Jack relaxing and posing

Jack working hard. Honest.

After lunch we wander towards Scopello the local town along the coast but are thwarted by the lack of public paths ending up at the bottom of an olive grove we can't get out of. It's a pleasant enough stroll though with some great views back towards our villa.

Our local boy and local bay

Our local beach coves - the nearest to camera

Supper is barbecued fat sausages for Jack and Lily-Rose and veggies for me and Debbie. A lazy evening in the warm air only needing shirt sleeves although it does get dark early.

Monday is hot hot hot and we sample the local beach before the heat gets too much and head off into Scopello which is a pretty village with not a lot there. We go into Castellammare del Golfo properly exploring this time. After a lovely spaghetti lunch served by a waiter who dons his floppy hat especially for us we wander the narrow streets down to the harbour and back up again.

Floats like a butterfly...

The difficult second album cover following personnel changes

Castellammare harbour

A lazy late afternoon reading, playing games and eating and after so much excitement it's early nights for all.

Tuesday is scorching too and we drive to Segesta along the main road which degenerates into a broken track. First up the imposing temple then Debbie and Lily-Rose take the mini bus up the hill to the theatre whilst Jack and I trek up in the searing heat. The view is amazing towards the sea and the theatre must have been so impressive back in the day.

Segesta temple

Temple

Highway snaking towards Palermo

Lily-Rose takes the stage

Beautiful views, and scenery

As it's so hot and no shade we get back home for a late lunch of our picnic. Cooling off down at our local beach again for a swim and read before being chased back home by the mozzies. Another relaxing evening chilling out at home and fully deserved after the day's exertions.

Dad taking the strain as usual

Next day we head to Palermo and it's hot though a dry heat in the city. After negotiating the crazy traffic we put the car in a guarded car park and wander the streets past the Teatro through narrow alleyways before stumbling out at the cathedral with it's Islamic influences and the usual 12 stations inside adorning the walls. The streets are pretty run down and dirty even the main shopping streets. Seems that the middle classes live  a little out of the centre leaving downtown for the grimier side of Palermo and at least it's not rammed with branded stores, at least not that many. Lovely to walk through though and another great restaurant at which we sample the massive pizzas then go for unreasonably large and tasty ice creams. Eventually we drive out of Palermo and I decide just to drive in one direction away from the sea. Feels like we're back late as it's pitch black but it's only about 7pm.

Palermo Cathedral

Palermo downtown

Doors within doors opposite graffiti

Scooters are GO!

Thursday we take our picnic lunch to a nearby nature reserve and after a gentle stroll along the coast we get to what must be the most crowded beach in all of Sicily. There must be at least 20 people on the 100 yard stretch of shingle. It's in a beautiful cove with the usual clear water which is irresistible. We leave when the sun drops behind the mountain behind which is fairly early in the afternoon really. After a barbecue with chicken for the kids and stuffed mushrooms for the adults (Jack a kid here) we have some traditional Halloween games organised by Lily-Rose including feeling horrible bits of witches and apple bobbing.

Portent of tomorrow's weather

Posing

Bobbing

It's our last full day so Lily-Rose and I go for an earlyish swim. Jack opts to work so the girls and I drive into Trapani province to the hilltop town of Erice. It's a very steep drive up with amazing views at the top back towards the national park between here and our place and out the other way over the lagoons of Trapani. Smooth as marble cobbled streets we wander through before taking lunch in the piazza. Pasta for me and rice balls for the girls. We take in the cake shops and stunning views.

Erice

On the way back we drive through a biblical deluge for an hour. Our last evening we wander around Castellammare one last time before pizza overlooking the Golfo. We finish off with what seems to be the northern Sicily take on the ubiquitous cannoli - instead of hard fried pastry filled with ricotta they are a softer pasty shape. Not quite as full as the last meal of the last Sicilian holiday (I couldn't reach my shoelaces) but very satisfied none the less.

Saturday is hot again and after leaving our home for the last time we stop at a beautiful sandy beach just past Castellammare in the middle of the Golfo where I go for a last swim.

Golfo

Geroff you orrible wet man

All this holidaying wears me out

Lunch is possibly the best pasta meal we've had, they love their aubergine here, with a starter of a fried potato dish reminiscent of indian potato dishes. Such good value too. We go to a scuzzi beach at Terrasini for last bit of sun before hitting the airport for another uneventful journey back to drizzly London.