Synopsis: Last minute deviation from planned trip to RHS Rosemoor. Weather not good so visited Clovelly and Hartland Point instead. Weather actually improved. But no cup of tea, as stove was busted!
(selection of photos from Flickr photo set – use link above to view album)
We had planned to visit RHS Rosemoor today but as we were eating our picnic lunch sat in the car in Torrington car park with the rain lashing down, we all came to the conclusion that walking around a garden in this weather might not be that enjoyable. We therefore hastily changed our plans by looking at the road atlas and seeing that Clovelly was nearby and decided upon that instead. We did have a little stroll around Torrington, particularly the indoor market, town centre and church.
As we were driving towards Clovelly the weather picked up and the sun came out. On reaching the Clovelly car park we were rather astounded to find that there was a charge per person to enter Clovelly village of approximately £6.00 per person, and so things were looking down again, until … I had recently walked to Clovelly following a public footpath and knew where to pick this up so I said that was what we would do. This should cost us nought!
I said to Mum and Helen I’d drop them off at the start of the footpath. From behind the driving wheel I pointed out where the foot path started and said I’d catch them up and went to park the car. On coming back to the footpath start I looked over the stile and see Mum and Helen walking through this field with what was evidently a bull in it. Mum and Helen were by this time three quarters of the way across the field and some way past the bull. Despite being rather alarmed I felt I had no choice but to follow. The bull was standing by the side of the field that the foot path followed. I was standing within a couple of metres of the bull when Mum and Helen see me and start walking back towards me and the bull. I wave frantically to try and get them to walk out of the field. Mum and Helen seem perplexed by my waving, waving which is also rather agitating the bull who now starts to hoof the turf. Eventually Mum and Helen understand I want them to leave the field and make for the far stile. I meanwhile tip-toe past the bull trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
With relief we’re all finally standing in the next field. I ask Mum and Helen what on earth they were doing crossing a field with a bull in it. Helen said the bull was initially hidden by a cow which only stood aside as they were passing it to reveal the bull. Helen told me she at first thought, “That cow seems to be missing some parts. Oh and it has some extra parts it shouldn’t have. Oh, that’s no cow. Wow! That is quite some animal.” Helen was rather worried for Mum’s sake, but had little option but continue on through the field. Luckily for us all the bull showed very little interest in us. I’m not sure what are the rights and wrongs of having a bull on a public footpath, but I can tell you it’s a rather scary experience to walk past one. I can confirm Helen’s evaluation, that was quite some animal! In our anxiety, we failed to get a picture of the beast, but this photo will give you an idea of what it looked like.
On reaching the head of the village where there were, as by tradition here at Clovelly, a couple of donkeys being used for the taking of photographs, it was obvious that Mum would not wish to drop down the steep path into the village. We found Mum a bench nearby and she said she was happy to sit there whilst Helen and I went to explore the village.
This was Helen’s first visit to Clovelly and I wasn’t sure quite what her reaction would be. She later told me that it was really lovely. Clovelly is a magical place, quite unlike any other. It remains very much how it would have looked a hundred years ago. Time has stood still here. The fact that there are no cars is a major factor in this. It does mean a steep drop down through the village on foot which of course has to be followed by a demanding climb back out, but it’s well worth the effort. All the cottages look unbelievably quaint.
On reaching the harbour we walked out across the pebbles to where boats were moored. We could see a small waterfall in the cliffs ahead and decided to walk over to that.
We then returned to the harbour and climbed a ladder up onto the harbour wall. Then it was time to make the long haul back up the cobbled streets of Clovelly to return to Mum.
I went to pick the car up walking back up Wrinkleberry Lane, passing the bull once again, although this time sleeping and I give it a wide berth. I drove back to pick up Mum and Helen at the head of the village.
As we had time to spare and we’d come all this way I suggest one final excursion, out to Hartland Point. This is a fantastic wild, rugged and windswept place, so very different to the coast of south Devon. Having parked the car I said we should walk out to the Point, not expecting Mum to come all the way, but she did. It was worth the effort for the spectacular views all around, including sight of the old lighthouse seemingly precariously perched down on the rocks below with a raging sea all around (see photo left).
Although it was blowing a gale on Hartland Point, I was keen to make a cup of tea, our first picnic cup of tea of Helen’s visit. We found a place behind a hedge and I got the tea making gear out of the car, filled the kettle, tried to set up the stove, and then the problems started. The stove hissed at me as I screwed in the gas canister. The rubber seal had failed and so there was no way that we could make ourselves tea. What a disappointment! Later in the holiday Helen was to come up trumps; rather than be defeated by this and buy a new stove as I thought I would have to, Helen said we should get a rubber seal and fix the stove. A trip to B&Q some days later, a few minor adjustments to a rubber seal, and Helen had my stove working again. What a resourceful star she is. That’s my girl!
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