A sort escape to Fowey in the motorhome (Day 3)

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Day three of the escape to Fowey

I wake up wondering about storage in Bryony. No idea why. I think it is because I was reading some hacks on a forum last night. Anyway, it sets me thinking.

·        Can we put some sticky hooks and netting across the two alcove shelf sections above and to one side of each of the front seats? That will mean we can make better use of them, store more in them and not have it fall out on our heads when driving about.

·        We hang our towels to dry on the back of the bathroom door when it is raining outside. Would it be better to invest in a telescopic pole between the shower walls and hang them on that?

·        Are we using our door pockets efficiently enough – huge space there!

·        Not sure I can convince Mag that it would be a good idea to free up more locker space by stuffing clothing in the two cushions, instead of their padded foam. Possibly going a bit excessive there!

·        Still need to work out where to store the two big e bike batteries when we are driving around, ditto with the steering lock.

Random thoughts first thing in the morning!

 

After our Norfolk tour, it comes as a bit of a shock to cycle Cornish lanes. We have forgotten how hilly and deeply dissected by river valleys, the landscape is.

We cycle down to Bodinnack and catch the vehicle ferry across to the other side. The hill out is long rather than steep but it is still a fair old haul. Up to Lanteglos where we turn north and head down the steep lanes to Penpoll, passing over the little bridge at the head of Penpoll creek. I note it looks like a great dinghy cruising hidey hole for a future voyage.

Further on, the road to Lerryn is closed but a tourist in a VW van who has turned around kindly stops us to let us know that he thinks we can sneak through. We take the risk and are rewarded with a long downhill section. Just as we enter Lerryn, the reason for the road closure becomes clear. SW Water have water works ongoing. 6” diameter flexible hoses run across and up and down all the roads in the village. Kilometres of piping. Sandbags, raised man hole covers, warning signs. The only road through the village is bisected and no traffic is getting through. Pedestrians and cyclists though are the exception and we are relieved. The hill back up to an alternative way around would have been a long, long slog, even on E bikes.

Lerryn is stunning. A pub, a village shop, a small car park and a stunning village green bordering the creekside. Small boats of all shapes and sizes are moored bow to the creek bank, their stems resting on a mixture of mud and shingle. Across the twenty-five-metre-wide creek is a row of the most beautiful ‘chocolate box’ cottages; white and rose adorned, with neatly manicured lawns sweeping down to the creek bank. Each has its own mooring or little launch ramp. Some have ribs tied alongside; others a selection of canoes, kayaks and paddleboards upturned on their lawn edges.

Sat at the picnic tables, drinking Lattes and snacking on lovely cakes, we watch people slightly down river adjacent to the outdoor centre, master paddleboards. The air resounds to howls of laughter. The sun shines, the temperatures are mid 20’s. It is a harmonious tranquil scene and I know that I shall be back with my small boat. It is the perfect ‘camp-cruising’ destination.

It is hard to tear ourselves away from Lerryn, but up the steep hill we go, on our way to Lostwithiel, a few miles further on. Across the hill top we are treated to sweeping views across the Fowey valley.

https://www.cornwalls.co.uk/lerryn

Lostwithiel proves a complete surprise. A delightful one. We have lived down this way for over thirty years and have often passed through Lostwithiel on the A390, but we have never stopped. The part of the town that this road passes through is drab. ‘Never judge a book by its cover’! Sadly, we have done so, shame on us.

Turn off that main road and go down the main street and you are immediately rewarded with boutique shops, local food producers, antique shops, a stunning church, a little museum and then delightful walks out along the upper River Fowey. Green fields where you can picnic and play. At the bridge there is a shingle beach and shallow water to paddle in.  Walk a mile or so down river and you come to a nature reserve of reedbeds and fields. Walk north out of town and there is Restormel Castle. This is a fine example of medieval architecture, a rare example of a circular castle and a place where the Black Prince stayed twice. Well worth a visit.

https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/restormel-castle/

https://www.lostwithielmuseum.org/

https://www.visitcornwall.com/things-to-do/south-coast/lostwithiel

Lostwithiel is delightful. But exactly where you can park a motorhome has puzzled us and we haven’t yet got a satisfactory answer.

 

After a riverside picnic, we retrace our route back to Lerryn where we stop for an ice cream. The tide is now fully out revealing the ancient stepping stone causeway that allows pedestrians to cross, long before the medieval bridge was built. We missed seeing the old limekilns on our earlier visit as well.

The slog back up all those hills to Lanteglos is good for our fitness and mental health! After recovering our breath and bearings, we make the decision to cycle down to Polruan, the little village opposite to Fowey.

 

Pity we didn’t have the presence of mind to check the E bike battery levels!

Down through Pont and up the steep hill the other side. Where upon we realise with alarm we are both down to two bars on the battery. That gives us how much distance in this terrain?

Trapped between a rock and a hard place. If we commit to Polruan we have to go down a long steep hill of two and a half miles. If we decide to turn back – its eight miles back to the ferry up and down hills before the long ascent back up to the campsite.

And what if the foot ferry isn’t running, then what? Or what if they don’t take bikes? 

It becomes clear that we will need to risk Polruan. There won’t be enough on the batteries to cope with all the hills. If the ferry isn’t running, we will have to try and find a taxi to get one of us back to the motorhome so we can bring it down to collect the bikes.

We announce our arrival into Polruan with squealing brakes and scorched smelly brake discs. OMG! That hill?

In the middle of the village, we get off the bikes. The little lane ahead ends at a quayside and both of us are now fearing the brakes will fail. It would be a very wet end, going over the top of the small harbour wall!

Polruan quay proves fascinating. Right there on huge slipways, an enormous trawler is out of the water being refurbished; another lies moored alongside. It is a huge boat works cut into the hillside. Astonishing but a great summary of the unique history of this area.

The Ferry arrives and to our relief he takes bikes. We carry them down the steps and he opens a little door in the side of the hull and we walk the bikes onto the boat. Phew! Maggie immediately proffers a £10 and tells them to keep all the change. It is in her opinion “the best £10 I have ever spent in my life”. Her relief is palpable and the ferry crew are delighted.

A thick shake on Fowey quayside sooths frayed nerves. A little adventure and adrenaline surge never hurt anyone!

Getting back through Fowey to the ferry road was made troublesome by an Aston Martin Advantage. Its width took up the entire road. People stopped everywhere to gawk at it. The driver pulled up in the middle of the road outside of a rental property and then sat there waiting for his girlfriend to put her bags in the car. She then messed around, getting herself organised, scrabbling in her Louis Vuitton handbag. It was genuinely hilarious! Behind them the traffic built up and people’s tempers began to slowly fray.

I had revenge. At the foot of the hill leading out of Fowey, he pulled over briefly and I overtook him. He was then stuck behind me all the way up that narrow road. At every possible overtaking point a car was coming the other way.

Ever heard an Aston Martin stuck in first gear going up a steep hill at 13 mph?

Childish of me, I know. I should be ashamed of myself. Gives ‘E’ bikers a bad name!! Delicious revenge though!