Road Trip: Cornwall to the Cotswolds Part 3

Salisbury Cathedral, subject of the renowned painting by John Constable, is really something to behold, both inside and out. It was built in the Early English Gothic style of which it is an outstanding example. Building commenced in 1230 and was mostly completed by 1258. The cloisters were added in 1240 and the chapter house in 1263. The spire was built in 1320 and and became the tallest church spire in the United Kingdom after St Paul's Cathedral in London burned down in 1561. 

Salisbury Cathedral by John Constable 1826

The nave of the cathedral is narrow in relation to the height of the vaulted ceiling, but it is light and bright with pale grey stone and polished marble columns.

Nave of Salisbury Cathedral 13th century

Cloisters at Salisbury Cathedral AD 1240

There is a fascinating medieval clock in the side aisle which dates from around 1386 and is thought to be the oldest working modern clock in the world. It's not a clock as we know it, it just has bells which ring the quarter hour.

Medieval Clock at Salisbury Cathedral

A number of tombs can be seen around the cathedral. The first to be buried there was William Longespée, Earl of Salisbury, who died in 1226. He was a half-brother to King John and his name appears in the 1215 Magna Carta as an adviser to the king.

William Longespée's tomb, the first burial in Salisbury Cathedral, 1226

The most treasured item at the cathedral is an original copy of Magna Carta, one of only four that survive. It is housed in the octagonal chapter house in its own little tent where it is protected in a glass case. Visitors are allowed in in ones or twos and photography is not allowed. The light is kept low to protect the ancient sheepskin parchment on which it was written.

Waiting in line to view an original copy of Magna Carta

Not far from Salisbury is one of the UK's most well-known attractions: Stonehenge. When I visited in 2010, it was a day of wild weather, wind and pouring rain. Today is overcast and none too warm, but dry. My impression thirteen years ago was that of awe and wonder at these monoliths which had a luminosity of their own in the torrential rain of that day. We arrive at the car park and nothing is as it was in 2010. We find that a new 'state-of-the-art' visitor centre opened in 2013, the old one swept away and the road which passed the stones, the A344, has been grassed over. 

The new visitor centre (all the usual cafe, gift shop, audio visual stuff) is one-and-a-half miles away from the stones, so you need to get on a shuttle bus to reach them (or walk the mile and a half).

Is all that the reason the stones no longer overwhelm me as they did on that day in 2010 when I emerged from the bunker of the old visitor and turned to see the stones in all their glory? It is only me who is under-whelmed, Jo says she had expected them to appear bigger (maybe because she remembers me raving about them in my book!). I feel that now you approach from a greater distance, the impact is lost and the approach I think is from a different section of the circle, not its most outstanding angle. Anyway, whatever the reason, in my opinion Stonehenge has not benefitted from thousands more tourists and their needs.

Stonehenge from its best angle

In the afternoon we have a long drive to a farm near Evesham (Evesham is where Agatha Raisin gets her hair done, if you read the books or watch the TV show) in the Cotswolds where we have two nights to enjoy the peace of the countryside. Stay tuned for tomorrow's tour of the Cotswolds' prettiest villages.

 

Road Trip: Cornwall to the Cotswolds Part 2

Breakfast at the Manor House is prepared by William and served in a conservatory recently attached to this 15^th century house, its stout pillars and solid beams blending well with the general air of permanence.

Today we head east to roam the areas of Somerset where relatives were born, baptised, married and buried several hundred years ago. But first we're planning to check out the Roman mosaic floor at Taunton Castle, now the Museum of Somerset, which was warmly recommended by William last evening as we sat sipping orange juice in the garden at the Manor House.

We park in the nearby Tesco car park and walk around the corner to the state-of-the-art museum. The Roman mosaic is in wonderful condition. The Roman Villa was discovered in Low Ham, Somerset, in 1938 and the site excavated from 1945. The floor dates to around AD 350 and is the oldest object in Britain to tell a complete story. The mosaic records the tragic love of Dido and Aeneas, a story from Virgil's epic, The Aeneid.

Roman Mosaic Floor circa AD 350

Section of Roman Mosaic Floor

Another fascinating display is the Shapwick hoard, a pile of Roman silver coins, 9238 to be precise, one of the largest hoards ever found in Britain. The hoard was buried under the floor of a Roman Villa around AD 225.

Shapwick Hoard 9238 Roman Silver Coins

The rest of the day sees us meandering around the lanes of Somerset in the footsteps of those long-dead relatives. They lived and died in little villages with those English-sounding names like Kingsbury Episcopi, East Lambrook, Lopen and Chillington. When last I came this way in 2010, the church doors were open and I could sit quietly in the church and picture those long ago weddings, baptisms and funerals, the churches being unchanged for hundreds of years. Sadly for us, the church doors are, apparently, no longer open to welcome visitors on days that are not Sunday. I don't know why that is.

A baptism. Chillington

 A wedding. Kingsbury Episcopi

A funeral. Lopen

Our day ends in Salisbury where we walk the short distance from our hotel to the majestic Salisbury Cathedral, closed at this hour but we shall return in the morning. 

Salisbury Cathedral

Road Trip, Cornwall to the Cotswolds, Part 1

After our cycling day in Penzance which ended with dinner at The Boatshed Restaurant on the Quay, we reluctantly leave the Summer House after another excellent breakfast: sensational 'overnight porridge' (must make that when I return home), and perfectly cooked eggs, we haul our bags back to the station. Instead of taking the train, we are picking up a hire car from the Europcar Car depot near the station for a five-day road trip.

This trip is going to take us from Cornwall to the Cotswolds, stopping for a night near Taunton in Somerset, a night in Salisbury in Wiltshire, two nights at Evesham in Worcester and finally a night in Oxford.

Jo is having conniptions about driving on narrow roads in an unfamiliar country in a strange car… I relent and sanction an automatic instead of a manual (hang the expense, anything for a quiet life) and we leave Penzance behind and take the road to Land's End, the most south westerly point of mainland Britain.

Land's End

Of course there's very little at Land's End, except the rocky cliffs, the sea and a lot of tourist stuff, but you do have to go there just to say you went there. 

Last chance for a cuppa

It is an ideal place to view the Longships Lighthouse which perches on Carn Bras about a mile out to sea. Carn Bras is the largest of the Longships Rocks which encircle Land’s End point. The current lighthouse built in 1875, which stands one hundred and fourteen feet high, replaced a much shorter one that was prone to disappearing under the waves. It's not easy to get a clear photo.

Longships Lighthouse and Rocks

From Land's End we head north with the idea of visiting the romantic ruins of Tintagel, the castle forever associated with King Arthur. It is reputed to be the place of his conception as reported by Geoffrey of Monmouth, the 12^th century Welsh cleric and chronicler who didn't let the truth get in the way of a good story. As we venture further north, somehow the idea of a challenging descent to a wind-swept site on the Cornish coast with rain threatening doesn't seem an attractive idea any more, so we set a course for Launceston, still in Cornwall but further east.

Launceston turns out to be an attractive town of around 8500 people. What's left of Launceston Castle sits on a high mound right in the township. It was built by Robert, Count of Mortain—who was a half-brother of William the Conqueror—in about 1070.

Launceston Castle

 It has some significance for our family because, in the days when the assizes were held in Launceston, my Cornish great-great-great-great-grandfather on my mother’s side was held in the prison at the castle before being convicted of theft and sentenced to seven years deportation to the colony of New South Wales. In the year 1787, he sailed on the convict ship Scarborough with the First Fleet bound for the fledgling colony in Australia.

The afternoon is slipping away so we head off to find our accommodation for the night over the border in Somerset near the town of Taunton.

We leave the A5 having successfully negotiated a couple of those pulse-elevating roundabouts and find ourselves in the pretty Somerset countryside on roads that have hedges growing right up to the tarmac. My driver is less than happy with this situation, but we make it to a far-flung village (is it a village? or just a few houses) by late afternoon.

The Manor House is a fascinating building and the owners just as unusual. I have a momentary thought that we've arrived at Cold Comfort Farm!

The Manor House

We're ushered into the 16^th century manor house, one section of which dates to the 12^th century, we later discover, and our hostess asks if we would like a drink. Jo would certainly like a drink after driving on these heart-stopping roads, preferably a very large gin and tonic, but the only drinks on offer are of the soft variety so we settle for orange juice and sit with our hostess, Fleur, and her adult son, William, (after he takes our bags up the creaking stairs to our room) in a charming little courtyard. We are surrounded on all sides by ancient walls where Dorothy Perkins roses and honeysuckle are in full flower.

Fleur says that there are about twenty rooms in the house (I suspect it might be like Christopher Robin trying to count the trees at Gill's Lap: you lose track somewhere along the way). She tells us there is a Roman well on the other side of the wall and that you can't put in a row of cabbages without digging up bits of Roman pottery! What an interesting place we've stumbles upon.

Roman Well

William is very keen on history and has dates at the ready. He tells us that there is a wonderfully preserved Roman mosaic floor in Taunton that is well worth a visit. Might check that out tomorrow.

We ask about places to dine and Fleur has a couple suggestions for places nearby. She rings and makes a reservation for us at The Hatch at Hatch Beauchamp and gives us directions. We manage to get them backwards and turn right instead of left but we somehow make it to The Hatch, another venerable building, with a good menu and pleasant atmosphere.

After a comforting meal and a glass of vino, we find our way back to the Manor House and, as the evenings are long at this time of year, we explore the rambling garden. 

The Manor House

Garden at the Manor House

At the end of a little path I spy the grave of one, William Pyne, who lived from 1506–1582. 

Grave in the Garden at the Manor House

I think this will be one of the more interesting places we will stay on our travels.

 

St Michael's Mount

 Penzance. How happy I am to be back on the Cornish Riviera where holidaymakers come to enjoy the mild climate of England's south-westerly coast.

We have only one day in Penzance on this whirlwind tour so, to get the most out of the day, I have booked bicycles which will allow us to cycle along the waterfront of Mount's Bay to St Michael's Mount and in the other direction to the fishing port of Newlyn.

After a fabulous breakfast at the Summer House, we walk around the corner to what I imagine will be a bike shop to collect our bikes. Nothing is ever what you imagine, of course, so there is no bike shop. I pop into a B&B near where the 'bike shop' should be and discover that it is actually a little sideline run by another B&B owner. We go back down the street a few doors and find the right place. Steve is very helpful and goes to no end of trouble to get the bike seats to the correct height. We test them out in his back lane and finally get them set up, helmets on and we're away for the day.

Those of you who have read my book may remember my jaunt to St Michael's Mount, but for others a few details will be required, so I'll borrow a bit of that text to save me writing the same thing over again. 

Penzance shelters within the arc of land bordering Mount’s Bay and just two miles around the bay to the east is the village of Marazion. Off the coast of Marazion is a castle on a tiny, fascinating island—a volcano-shaped granite rock known as St Michael’s Mount—which lies just a stone’s throw out to sea from the village. When the tide is low visitors can walk in the steps of the pilgrims of old across a causeway to the island but the rising tide completely covers the rocky roadway making the island accessible only by boat.

St Michael's Mount, Cornwall

When last I visited you just went to the castle and bought a ticket. Nothing that simple today. We chain up our bikes then spend an inordinate amount of time trying to buy tickets on line with our travel credit cards which are loaded with an eye-watering amount of cash, but the ticketing system doesn't like them, so we pay with our home credit cards. We have to pay for the boat as well which now costs over three times more than it did in 2010.

The castle itself is just as I remember it and we climb the rocky pilgrim path and step back into nearly one thousand years of history.

The Pilgrim Steps

St Michael’s Mount has a twin, Mont Saint-Michel, across the Channel off the coast of Brittany, which is altogether more grand, architecturally, than the English version, I believe. The Mount’s history lies deep in the past, but its journey towards the castle we see today began after the Norman invasion of England when the island was granted to the monks of the Benedictine Abbey which was well established over at Mont Saint-Michel. The monks established a small community and built a priory on this rocky little mound in the sea. It remained a possession of Mont Saint-Michel until, in the fifteenth century, it returned to English hands during the Hundred Years War with France. After the dissolution of the monasteries, the Mount became a possession of the Crown and served as a defensive garrison eventually holding off Cromwell’s troops during the English Civil War in the seventeenth century. Colonel John St Aubyn was appointed Governor of the Mount after it fell to the Parliamentarians in 1647 and later purchased it, subsequently converting it to a family home where his descendants live to this day.

We step through the medieval doorway and into the castle. 

The Castle Entrance

The family coat of arms is on display and portraits of family members grace the walls. Ancient weapons hint at the castle’s long-past defensive duties. In Sir John’s study there is a tidal clock, an eighteenth-century timepiece charting the movement of the tide in Mount’s Bay—essential information for dwellers on this water-bound rock. What was once the monk’s refectory became a dining room in the sixteenth century: a dramatically-decorated room, with arched timber ceiling beams and heraldic shields, known as Chevy Chase—a reference to the medieval ‘Ballad of Chevy Chase’: a long-winded account of an unauthorised deer-hunt and the subsequent repercussions—where a striking plaster frieze immortalises the ‘chase’, and a seventeenth century oak dining table is still put to use by the family on special occasions.

Chevy Chase Dining Room

My favourite room is the Blue Drawing Room, definitely a ladies room with its delicate furniture, its Wedgwood-blue walls and family portraits.

The Blue Drawing Room

At the very top of the mount sits the old Priory Church dating from the fourteenth century, a place of Christian worship for more than 600 years, where services are held every Sunday during the warmer months and at Christmas and Easter. 

The 14th century Priory Church

We make our way back down the rocky steps to the island harbour to take the boat back to the mainland. 

The Harbour at St Michael's Mount

The little boat delivers us safely back to the mainland and we ride back to Penzance and on to Newlyn where men still go to sea in boats to earn their daily bread.

Newlyn Harbour

On the Train Again

Today we wake up in Paris and tonight we go to bed in Penzance, Cornwall.

I've booked a taxi, as in Rome, to take us to the Gare du Nord where the Eurostar departs for London at 7:40am. We need to be there ninety minutes before departure for border checks etc, so I've booked the taxi to pick us up at 5:40am. 

Leaving our Paris Hotel

We leave the Hotel Elysees Union at 5:30 and find a taxi waiting. We naturally assume it's ours and in we hop. The driver does not have much English so there is no chit-chat. When we are about what I estimate to be about half way there, the driver's phone pings and he makes a little exclamation and pulls over. We have a little trouble getting the gist of what's going on, but it seems that he has picked up the wrong fare! Oops. He asks where we are going and we tell him. He says he can take us back to the hotel but we say 'no, no!' He asks if we'll pay cash and we says yes, cash, thirty euros. He takes us to the station and all is well… for us. Goodness knows what happened to the people he was supposed to pick up. I hope they just got into the taxi that was meant for us. Not a great start to the day.

Gare du Nord Station, Paris

When we finally board the Eurostar I consider it a minor miracle that our Eurail Pass has worked and our booked seats have been accepted. As previously mentioned, our Eurail Passes are 1^st Class which technically allows travel in any carriage. Because the trip from Paris to London is relatively short and the seat reservations expensive, I have booked 2^ndClass seats to save quite a few Euros. I've been having little nervous twinges about the thought of trying to convince a French railway official that we are allowed to travel in either class in spite of having 1^st Class rail passes. As we all know, most of the things that keep us awake at night never come to pass, and so it is with our train seats, so we sit back and watch France pass by as we speed towards the Channel Tunnel. When we suddenly disappear into the tunnel, we're both surprised. What, no warning? No farewell to France? No fanfare? Well, no, we're in the tunnel (don't think about all that water over our heads), then we're out of it and in the United Kingdom.

An hour later we're sitting in a cafe in London having breakfast.

We need to take the Underground from St Pancras over to Paddington Station to catch our train to Penzance in Cornwall. I pull our my Oyster Card Wallet to check if I have any credit left from my last trip in 2014 and find that, for some reason I can't quite remember, I have a second card as well, (did my friend Gayle give me a spare one?). This is good news because we now have one each, and both have some credit on them.

We both have very manageable luggage: one small wheelie bag each and a small back pack each, so using the underground presents no problem—once we get on the right train (we need the westbound but somehow end up on the eastbound). Easily remedied, hop off one, hop on the other.

The Paddington Bear Seat at Paddington Station

At Paddington Station we discover that Great Western Railway, who will take us to Penzance, have a 1^st Class lounge where we can sit and avail ourselves of tea or coffee, orange juice, biscuits, crisps and comfortable armchairs (and other facilities) until it's time for our train to depart. Perfect.

Some UK train services require seat bookings which, unlike those in Europe, are free to book. I have booked our seats on the GWR web site which, for some strange reason, gives you seats that are not in sequence, and has no option to choose your own. As a consequence, when we board our train our seats are not together. A kind traveller in the seat across the aisle from Jo asks me if I would like to take his seat so Jo and I can be at least close enough to converse. People are very thoughtful on the whole.

I take the seat which is at a table for four. Two ladies, one gentleman and now myself. We exchange greetings and before long the two ladies are chatting away to Jo and I about where we are going and telling us where they are going. The journey from London to Penzance takes about five hours. Our new friends are not going that far but still we have quite a few hours to get acquainted. It turns out the elderly gentleman doesn't know either of the two ladies but he adds a comment here and there to the conversation. The two ladies used to work together they tell us, and they are going to stay for a few days with another ex-workmate who isn't big on communication, apparently, so they don't know what to expect when they get to their destination. He may or may not be planning to take them out for a meal this evening. He may or may not have planned some activities for the coming days. The younger of the two doesn't really mind, she's just happy to be returning to the seaside she remembers from holidays with her best friend when she was a schoolgirl. We have a very happy few hours talking about books and travels and any number of other subjects. Funny how you just hit it off with some people.

Well, here we are in Penzance. It's thirteen years since last I stayed here and it seems much the same now as it was then. We walk along the Quay and around a corner to our accommodation at The Summer House which turns out to be a charming bed and breakfast run by a delightful couple who couldn't be more helpful. Our room has a small sitting room adjoining and an ensuite bathroom. All perfect.

The Summer House, Penzance

We go out for a meal, having to try several restaurants before finding a table. It seems Penzance is having a busy summer.

It's been a long day, started in Paris all those hours ago and now it's time to collapse into bed to be rested for tomorrow's adventures.

A Day in Paris

 One day, that's all we have in Paris. We start the day at a charming cafe at the end of our street, Rue de l' Amiral Hamelin, where we order coffee and a croissant, naturally. It is, in fact, the best croissant I've ever eaten. Well, if you can't get a decent croissant in Paris, then where can you get one?

A sunny morning for breakfast in Paris

The plan for the day is to catch the City Sightseeing Hop-on-Hop-off bus and see as much of Paris as can be seen in a day. We will hop off here and there, but there'll not be time to visit any of the usual attractions. However, much of Paris's charm is in its leafy boulevards and beautiful buildings, all of which can be viewed from the top of a tourist bus. Rue de l' Amiral Hamelin meets Avenue Kleber a few metres from our hotel and the avenue leads directly to the Arc de Triomphe which stands majestically at the western end of the Champs Élysées. 

Arc de Triomphe

We walk towards this grand monument which honours the war dead from the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars and lists French generals and victories on its surfaces. 

The sightseeing bus has a stop right beside the Arc de Triomphe and as we approach a bus appears and we are off on our Paris-by-bus tour.

We complete a circuit to take in all the main sights then make a few stops for photos and to just absorb the shear wonder of a structure like the Eiffel Tower.

The Eiffel Tower

The tragic fire in 2019 that brought down the spire and destroyed the roof of Notre-Dame Cathedral shocked the world. We leave the bus to view the restoration work in progress, from the outside of course. Quite a few others have the same thought and we all look skyward at this historic moment in the cathedral's history.

Notre Dame

Restoration underway at Notre Dame

We stroll along the Seine past all the little book lockers that line the banks, stopping now and then to thumb through this book or that. Neither of us has space for pamphlet in our luggage, let alone a book so we move on.

We have time to sit for a brief while in the Tuileries Gardens where the leafy trees provide relief from the hot Paris sun. The gardens lie between the Louvre and the Place de la Concorde and are a wonderful example of the French formal garden style so satisfying to the eye.

Jardin des Tuileries

Pyramide du Louvre

Our day finishes with a Seine River cruise on an open boat with hundreds of other tourists. It's a bit like drafting sheep, getting all these people on board. As we inch our way forward, wondering if we really do want a river cruise, I see a small notice saying 'Licenced to carry 599 passengers'. Why not 600, one has to wonder. The cruise lasts for an hour and it is a pleasant thing to glide beneath the twenty-two Parisian bridges that we pass under on our way, watching Paris in its relaxed Sunday mood.

Under the Bridges of Paris

Paris from the Seine

We choose to walk home from the river and finish the day at the delightful restaurant on the corner of our street, diagonally opposite where we had breakfast, so many hours ago.

Train from Rome to Paris

 I'm good and ready for a long train journey today, a chance to sit and watch first the Italian, then the French countryside roll by. It is our first time using our Eurail Passes which allow us fifteen days of 1^st Class train travel across Europe and the UK over the space of two months.

My last experience with a pass like this was the Britrail Pass back in the days of paper where each journey was penned onto a card at the start of each travel day. Today, of course, these things are all digital, leading to fears of: will it work?; damn, I hit the wrong button; blast, my phone's run out of charge; password? what the heck is the password, have I even got a password?… 

So, with thoughts like these running through my mind, we take our strange, old-world elevator to the ground floor to meet the taxi I have booked back home in Australia through Connectotransfers.com. To our amazement the taxi is there and waiting at 5.30 am.

How to fit a lift into an ancient building

When we reach the station I have the agreed balance of €30 (to be paid in cash) ready to hand over to our driver. He says '€50'. I say '€30'. He takes the thirty, I guess he thought it was worth a try.

We are nice and early for our train so we sit in the cafe with coffee and a pastry until the platform is announced for our train to Milan. People who travel often must spend a good portion of their lives staring up at train and plane notification boards.

Roma Termini

We were a bit nervous as to how our Eurail Passes would work but, being a 'belt and braces' person, I'd printed the tickets at home before I left and they worked a treat. We scanned them and all was well, we were on the train to Milan! The 1^stClass ticket meant we were given breakfast which was a bit of a disappointment: orange juice, trail mix, a bread roll (no butter) and a bottle of water. The seating with a table between the two seats was good and we had a pleasant three-and-a-half hour trip through the Italian countryside to Milan.

The next leg was Milan to Paris. I'd booked two seperate trips so as to leave enough time for delays etc between one train and the next. We had about an hour to wait before the Paris-bound train. The TGV inOui train to Paris was on time so we boarded and had two seats side-by-side with a drop-down table like an aircraft. Okay, I guess. What was less okay was the food service which was non-existent. I went to the cafe car to get something to eat (which we had to pay for) and everything was 'off' except for a cheese burger and a chocolate biscuit! Well, really?

The scenery was somewhat of a compensation for the disgusting food. Snow-capped mountains popped up regularly, little villages and a lovely lake with people boating in the afternoon sunshine.

Snow-capped mountains in France

All was well until we stopped for the police to board. We were asked to produce our passports but when the police arrived in our carriage they weren't interested in us, probably looking for a male person, as it turned out a minute later when a guy from further up the carriage left with a police escort. That plus another delay for some reason meant that instead of arriving in Paris at 19:14, we arrived closer to 20:00, by which time the taxi I'd booked to pick us up was nowhere to be seen.

There was a taxi queue and as we joined it a man came over and said 'You want a taxi?' 'Yes, how much?' said I. He picked up my bag and headed for his 'taxi'. When he put my bag in the boot, I said again 'How much', and gave him the address. 'Ninety euros,' said he. 'I don't think so!' said I, taking my bag out of the boot. We returned to the queue and inched out way forward until it was our turn. We were taken through the magical streets of Paris to the Elysees Union Hotel at 44 Rue de l' Admiral Hamelin. The cost? Thirty euros. Which is what my booked taxi was to cost.

The Elysees Union has a 24-hour front desk, which was a blessing because we were very late checking in. 

Having not had any food since the cheeseburger on the train, we set off to find food as soon as we had deposited our bags in our room. We walked out the front door and looked along the street and there, lit up in the evening sky was the Eiffel Tower! What a sight, I guess we're in Paris!

View from our hotel