In which Sid and Doris get absolutely no sympathy from anybody.
At the start of this trip we were mildly surprised that none of the hotels had any arrangements to store bicycles. By the end of it we were mildly surprised that any of them had seen a bicycle before, unless lying on the floor by a defibrillator station.
The decision to limit our ambition to 30 miles a day proved to be wise, both for Sid’s heart rate and the eBike’s battery. And honestly there is no need to do more, as Bothy McWeevil’s Cornish friends, the PenWeevils, have been happily busy cramming the area full of Tourist Attractions. Their ancestors, the PolWeevils, had already retired after making their fortune operating various mines and achieving senior status in Tavistock, which as we now know is a stannery rather than a tinpot town.
The knowledge that the world’s telephones are connected to our house via a beach in Porthcurno qualifies for M. Michelin’s highest honour “Vaut le Voyage” – justifies a journey in its own right.
There is plenty of Devon and Cornwall left for future trips, and at 4’8″ wide the Mini should be the ideal conveyance.