Four days and 40 miles later, we arrive to spend a lovely evening with my Auntie in St Ives. Equipment all worked well, only one blister. Only problem was (unusual for Cornwall, this) it didn't rain enough, so we're not quite sure how waterproof we are.
But it seems that our general plan of about ten miles a day should work fine, if we don't fall over or do anything stupid. It was a fun four days, you have casual conversations with lots of people, it's a very different lifestyle and rhythm to our usual London one.
It also turned out to be a bit of a 'Who do you think you are?' trip for me; we passed Porthmeor cove, just south of Zennor, where Parish records show that many generations of Polmears eked out a difficult existence since 1641 or earlier. (It was a bit of a depressing place, actually.) Then, north of Zennor, we watched a boatload of tourists right up next to the Carracks, some offshore rocks, watching a couple of seals in the swell. When I got home and checked, David and Henry Polmeor were drowned in a squall there in December 1833. This all sounds very Cornish and gloomy; I hope they had some good times among the bad. And the beach at St Ives, above, also called Porthmeor, is the best beach in the world.
Anyway, the walk itself wasn't depressing, and we leave on Saturday. So long as I can get to a computer, my next entry should be from Salzburg!
But it seems that our general plan of about ten miles a day should work fine, if we don't fall over or do anything stupid. It was a fun four days, you have casual conversations with lots of people, it's a very different lifestyle and rhythm to our usual London one.
It also turned out to be a bit of a 'Who do you think you are?' trip for me; we passed Porthmeor cove, just south of Zennor, where Parish records show that many generations of Polmears eked out a difficult existence since 1641 or earlier. (It was a bit of a depressing place, actually.) Then, north of Zennor, we watched a boatload of tourists right up next to the Carracks, some offshore rocks, watching a couple of seals in the swell. When I got home and checked, David and Henry Polmeor were drowned in a squall there in December 1833. This all sounds very Cornish and gloomy; I hope they had some good times among the bad. And the beach at St Ives, above, also called Porthmeor, is the best beach in the world.
Anyway, the walk itself wasn't depressing, and we leave on Saturday. So long as I can get to a computer, my next entry should be from Salzburg!
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