In which Sid and Doris take a tactical ferry to another part of the land that ice ages forgot.
The panniers are re-packed, and re-compressed. “This is a new meaning to having your clothes pressed” says Sid. There is nothing like lightweight touring, and this is nothing like lightweight touring.
The St Mawes ferry goes across the mouth of Falmouth harbour to the headland opposite. It is cycle-friendly, that is, the crew are cycle-friendly but the infrastructure is decidedly not. Bicycles, buggies, babies, baskets and everything else beginning with b are cheerfully handled up many steep, slippery and wonky steps.
Sid and Doris have mused in the past about the definition of an Epic Journey and have said that however Epic you try to be, someone will always have done that journey backwards, on a pogo stick, blindfolded. Today as the National Cycle Route 3 (confidently selected by all the best route planning software) deteriorates into a set of steps down to 20m of soft sand and then 200m of fern-lined path, with a handy defibrillator available, we discuss tactics with two lads dressed Blues Brothers-style who are pub crawling from Lands End to John O’Groats via Wales, Dublin and Belfast (“we thought we’d do all the countries”) on four wheel drive electric skateboards.
These have a car battery strapped on top and a little motor for each five inch wheel (see photo) and when seen on the main road were doing about 25 miles an hour. Sid and Doris try to subvert them into adding on the Outer Hebrides to their already-insane trip. Will they succeed? Their frenetic YouTube channel (“Wrong Direction”) is here.
A 25 mile target for the day was the minimum we felt we could aim for and in practice about the maximum we could do.
We paused in Mevagissey to eat ice cream by a much photographed and gull bombed harbour, as indeed had several hundred other tourists. A scene reminiscent of Prague’s Old Town Square, where the tourists are there because it is the standard touristy thing to do, only to discover that they have no idea why or what they are looking at.
Our “Jam First” St Austell friends are singing sea shanties in Mevagissey’s Fountain Inn tonight but we agreed that the original plan for us to “simply cycle back over for the evening” was off. “Yes, the efficiency of our e-car doubles as we leave Devon. In the ice age the glaciers only got as far as Bristol which is why our hills are so steep and our valleys so deep.” This is probably not the top reason to change your point of view on climate change, by the way.
Onwards, and eventually to Charlestown and our room at the Pier House hotel.
Charlestown itself has a deep, narrow harbour which was most recently used for china clay shipments. Once again everything joins up – a few days ago we saw how the Newquay China Clay was transported along the North Cornwall branch lines, and here in the south the China Clay was last loaded into boats from these chutes in an astonishingly late 1999.
The harbour and surrounding village have been used to film Poldark, a story of a captain returning from the American Revolutionary War. Ross Poldark is very hunky and there is much romance. He has big pecs and, here Sid is only guessing, bosoms may heave.
The Charlestown Wesleyan Chapel built in 1827 reminds Sid that Cornwall was a hotbed of Nonconformism. Since then however the chapel has been converted into a tatteria. Charming home furnishings but poor choices for bicycle decoration.
The Wesleyan Methodists saw the Church of England as the Tory party at prayer (and even then not truly spiritually engaged) rather than addressing the new industrial working class. Perhaps it was a further reformation, putting the Bible literally front and centre of worship, with neither altars nor smells or bells.
We see posters for the locally-famous and obviously very popular Charlestown Regatta, although with only two boats in the harbour (one of which has sunk and is being disassembled) and the lock gates removed for repair, it is difficult to see where the action will be.
Further research reveals the regatta is a week-long village fete in the recreation ground. No boats. It is a regatta in much the same way that the Durham Miners’ Gala is a gala, despite there being no swimming.
Since you are heading eastwards, is Morwellham Quay on your agenda? We went there a few years back and it’s well worth a visit. And you can ride on their steam train!
No, it wasn’t, though sorry to miss any opportunity to trade leg power for steam. We will put it on the list for next time. (Sid is getting a smaller front ring which makes dipping down to sea level and climbing out more palatable.)