Falmouth

We were awoken this morning by the voices of the birds. John found a felled tree in the morning sun, where he sat in the idyllic surroundings beside the tumbling waters of the river. Nearby, a cat black as ebony, picked its way silently through the long grass.

On the ground John discovered a large blister or oil beetle, quite a rare insect now unfortunately, of the eight species in the UK three are already extinct. To get a better shot Angela was tasked with the job of holding out a stick with the beatles on it for a photograph.

All well and good until it moved. Near to Marge, wild garlic grew, and John picked some to add to his morning omelette.

Housework done, and waste water emptied we fired up Marge.

At the farm gate, a group of lambs in a pen jostled to bid us farewell. 

Our destination, and possible stopover was Pendower Beach in the heart of the Roseland peninsula. We arrived just after midday. quickly parked up Marge and set off to explore this area of outstanding natural beauty.

The sun lit the headland, and the puffed-up clouds billowing in the sky cast shadows over the beach. We skimmed some flat shiny grey stones, smoothed by the movement of the sea, across the flat water.

Then walked across the rocks, laid bare by the low tide, looking in to rock pools and crevices.

Above us we could see Marge parked precariously. No funny business Marge please, it's a long drop down! By the time we returned to have our lunch the sun was high in the sky lighting the sea and coastline. We could see right across the bay to Portscatho. We had the best seat in the house. Before leaving, John picked some 'wild' spring onions growing in front of Marge (not sure who had planted those) for us to add to our stir fry this evening.

Deciding to stay overnight in Falmouth we journeyed past St. Austell passing the 'Cornish Alps', also known as the china clay spoil tips. The road was fast and uphill, poor old Marge she was really put to the test today. Now she is glad to be parked in the car park of Pendennis Castle, with a few buddies. She has a glimpse of a sea view through the hedgerow.

Leaving her to rest, we walked to Pendennis Point where we sat and watched some men fishing for mackerel whilst we took in the view towards St. Mawes and along the coast. Taking the 'Gold Path' back to the van through the wooded area, we were surprised how many bluebells were still in flower. The path ended right by the entrance to the castle, the last few feet being almost vertical, and hard to navigate. Now we knew how Marge felt. 

If it is quiet here tonight, we may stay again tomorrow, as being a bank holiday weekend the roads will probably be busy around these parts and we would quite like an easier day ourselves, something we know Marge would agree with.

 Pillaton, nr: Saltash.

Before we left Exmouth this morning, we walked along the Queens Drive and down on to the beach passing beneath the red sandstone cliffs to Orcombe point. 

From there we then took the south west coast path back towards the seafront.

We stopped to sit for a while looking out across the grey blue sea where in the distance, we could see four cruise liners at anchor. The sun shone brightly, lighting the red sand on the beach below.

Before leaving Exmouth a stop at Tesco and then on to Exeter to buy  a camping gaz cylinder. All set, we headed towards Cornwall along the Devon Expressway. The road cut a thick slice through carpets of green and fields of corduroy, and Marge powered up the many long inclines with gusto.

Crossing the Tamar bridge, we knew we would soon be travelling on a typical narrow Cornish road, thankfully ours had plenty of passing places. Our destination was Bush Farm Wild Camping, 200 acres of Cornish countryside, and only four of us staying here.

We found a lovely spot by the river, signed as No Man's Land. 

Today has been a good day. Marge dosed up on WD40 has not let us down and we've found a nice site where we can fill up with water and empty our toilet, which is always a concern. John is in his element, lighting a wood fire to cook on whilst Angela got on with the fun job of washing the smalls! 

As the sun slipped away this evening, we could hear a woodpecker drilling, the river running and the sheep in the nearby field talking. Last night a couple with a converted ambulance had the inscription, 'follow your dreams, they know the way' on their door' Made sense to us. We are more than happy to live this life.

These are going into my breakfast omelette says John who loves foraged herbs, wild garlic in this case. 

 Exmouth

The rain arrived in the early hours of this morning, the first since we can't remember when. By the time we left Lyme Regis it had already passed through, and the sun fought with the cloud to break through. Just a short trip for Marge today to Exmouth, gateway to the Jurassic coast. Marge coped well, easily plateauing the tops of the hills. She seemed comfortable all the way and is now settled in an allocated motorhome spot with a sea view.

We are very happy with this spot, the car park will be secured from eight o' clock tonight so there's no risk of any boy racers arriving, or the idiot we had turn at 10.30 pm last night revving his motorbike engine.

At lunchtime, although the wind blew cold,  we walked along the seafront to the marina and in to the town to buy some lunch and more WD40, our secret weapon we 'think' to easing Marge's ills. Then a trip to the bank for more cash to cover our overnight parking fees.

We walked back through Manor Gardens where we stopped to watch the squirrels raking over the ground in search for food before running to a couple who fed them nuts from their hands. 

Back at Marge, who is sharing the parking area with a covid test/vaccination centre a lorry arrived to empty the porta loos on site. 'Hey mate, have you got room for a little one?' More vans have arrived during the afternoon, and the area has become reminiscent of a French aire. Hopefully it wont be too long now before we can return to France.

Meanwhile we study our map and guide books, both windows into our adventure. 

 Lyme Regis

This morning Marge decided to play up, taking three attempts to start. It looked like we might be in for another eventful day. All those thousands of miles spent travelling around France, Spain, Italy and Portugal with barely a murmur from Marge, then take her on a staycation, and well what can we say.

After checking the tide times for Poole harbour, and seeing it was a spring tide so it would be no good for us to go out kayaking this morning, we decided to set off further west. As we passed through Wareham, we decided to stop at Kombi Kampers as they specialise in V.W.'s. Yes, they could accommodate Marge for a few days and sort out her turbo, and also take a look at her bodywork and sort that out to. Age comes to us all Marge.

After crossing everything, we took Marge over the Dorset hills and all went well, until, Marge decided to pull her usual stunt. Luckily, we managed to get off to the side of the dual carriageway, turn the ignition on and straight back on, and resume our journey.

Our lunchtime stop was picturesque West Bay, where the television programme Broadchurch was filmed. 

We couldn't resist the enticing smell of Cornish pasties, buying a couple and sitting on the shingle beach in the spring sunshine to eat them whilst monitoring the circling seagulls.

Further down the beach a seal sunbathed, flicking its head up every time the sea water splashed its face. It was more than happy to lay there and be photographed, too happy in fact, not even the dogs barking and scampering nearby caused it any alarm. We wondered if it may have been unwell. At the entrance to the harbour a sailing boat had run aground on the sand bar. The three crew and their dog were all sat at the bow end, but their combined weight could not stop the stern from rising up and down hitting the sand bar with a worryingly loud bang. The skipper of the yacht consoled himself with a bottle of beer, all they could do was sit it out until the tide turned. 

West Bay is on the south west coast path. Angela is reading a book at the moment called 'The Salt Path' which is about this very path. She walked the section from Minehead to Croyde bay when she was nineteen, now at sixty-one she found the steep ascent from the beach a little challenging. However, she would not be beaten, and enjoyed the view back over the village and across the sea blue to the horizon.

The last leg of today's journey was going to be a test for Marge, but we're pleased to say she coped well and happily rested with her fellow vans whilst we took a walk down to the sea front, stopping by the old hotel that years ago John tried to save from being turned into apartments, sadly that is exactly what has happened.

Lyme Regis is known as the Pearl of Dorset. It forms part of the Jurassic coast and hosts a fantastic coastline as well as interesting architecture. 

Back at Marge, we wanted to check with our fellow nomads if they were staying overnight, as the car park sign stated parking was free for all vehicles, but overnight sleeping was not allowed. Knocking on the door of a nearby van, the woman who greeted Angela was a little nervy and suspicious. She made a point of saying the couple in the van next to her were friends. She's probably even more worried now we've moved Marge in right next to them! 

Tomorrow our adventure continues. A few days ago, we thought about knocking this trip on the head, but it is said that 'the greatest danger in life is not to take the adventure', so Devon here we come.