Playing tourist on Day 10
I was worried about today being a complete wipeout, because the ferry across the Helford doesn’t run from November to March and that put nine miles on the stage – not really an option when you are carting a pack! That was one of the reasons I walked yesterday morning – to see the Helford estuary (which was all the book said it would be). David, the publican at The Five Pilchards, gave me a list to St Keverne’s, a godsend because it was pouring with rain all morning and I didn’t have to slog 3 kms uphill to get to the bus.
St Keverne’s is apparently the reason why the Manacles are so called (a corruption of the Kurnow for “Church Rocks”), as the Church steeple was really the only navigation beacon in the area until the mid-19th Century. Thankfully, it also has a bus-stop, so I began the windy way to Falmouth, which involved going back to Helston and changing buses. On the way we went past Culdrose – the only air base I’ve ever seen with a Sea King helicopter as a gate guard! The accommodation area has a Supermarine Scimitar as gate guard. I hope Liam is impressed with my aircraft recognition skills!
By the time I got to Falmouth, it was sunny and I wandered down Church St past the parish church of King Charles the Martyr (seriously!), which I think is there because Prince Charles (later King Charles II) escaped to France via Pendennis Castle. It was quite as I imagined it, with the Prince of Wales Pier providing some great shots of the Naval Dockyard.
I couldn’t resist the Museum, indeed, it’s been on my “must see” list for months. Thankfully, they had a spot where I could dump my pack, so I enjoyed some untrammelled exhibit-sign reading. The Titanic exhibition was a bit ho-hum (except for some excellent scenes from A Night to Remember, staring Kenneth More playing Kenneth More rather more than he was playing Fourth Officer Lightoller). However, when you walk into the main museum area, what they start with is a magnificent collection of famous sailing dinghies.
The one above was an Olympic Gold Medal winning Flying Dutchman – you forget in this day of carbon fibre just how beautiful some of these light-weight boats were, with their mould timber hulls. The museum actually has Mirror No. 1, but it was being restored, so I didn’t see it; but they have a live boat-building and restoration workshop to keep traditional skills alive. Some of the video footage of their boatbuilding techniques kept me transfixed, and the results were on display.
The tower gave great views over the estuary and you could see why it is supposed to be the third-biggest natural harbour in the world. The mystery of why it was such a busy port – before the days of radio, all ships going up channel would call into Carrick Roads to find out where they were to deliver or pick up cargo – and why it is no longer (to remote from London) was explained in the displays. All the other associations were there, including the fact that Captain Edward Pellew had retired to Falmouth and owned a big house across the Roads. Oh, dear, I would have loved to share this with Dad – he, like me, would have disputed the identification of Horatio Hornblower with Pellew. Hornblower’s exploits draw much more on Cochrane, surely.
The dead never really leave us, we just have to fill in the gaps in the conversation. But God knows, there are times when I wish we could hear them.
I really enjoyed the museum and its determined Cornish parochialism. Maybe the part of all four of the siblings that identified so strongly with the sea comes from those Cornish genes. Then it was off to Pendennis Castle, if only because Mum had suggested that I wouldn’t have time to see it when I was in Falmouth. I wasn’t going to let a remark like that go unchallenged.
I was hulking the pack, which definitely cramped my style, but I really enjoyed it, particularly the preserved “Half Moon” battery that controlled the Carrick Roads from the mid-19th Century onwards. They had a disappearing gun, and the two six-inch guns in place. What was really interesting was the Battery OP, which was restored to represent the equipment used in 1941.
My research leads me to believe that these guns are fakes, because QF Mark 5 1946 means they were probably the prototype guns intended for the Tiger-class post-war cruisers. QF means the shell was all-in-one, like a cartridge; whereas the guns here used a shell and separate bagged propellant. Get it right Heritage! Nice picture, though.
It was a gorgeous evening, and I pottered along and booked into my B and B. I watched the first half of the Rugby and was completely unconvinced by the Wallabies, so I went down for dinner for a rather underwhelming vegetarian Mexican. I try to keep some sort of balance in my diet, alternating seafood, red-meat, chicken and vegetarian and trying to keep the fruit going, but I wish I hadn’t bothered tonight. The saving grace is that fruit is usually on the menu for breakfast. Lord knows that I shouldn’t have to worry about the kilojoules. I want to get a spreadsheet going on the distances so I have a trophy at the end – after all, it’s only a week or so before I finish.
The phone calls home are important. Even though this was an adventure, it’s one that I would have far rather shared with Paula, particular when the rugby is so disappointing. I can’t even drown my sorrows. Walking with a hangover is no fun.
