We were up early and had breakfast in the company of the owners’ two Springer Spaniels.
It was a beautiful fine day as we drove out of Plymouth and south over the calm waters of the Tamar River. After about an hour of driving we stopped at a tiny cove where a few tiny houses clung to the rocky cliffs above the beach. We had a drink in the pub there then carried on down to Lizard Point which is the geographical, if not official, southern-most point in England. The cliffs dropped sheer to a narrow beach washed by the cold blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean and the wind was sharp and clean.
From Lizard Point it was only a short drive to Land’s End where we discovered the most revolting example of English tackiness and exploitation imaginable. We had to pay two quid each to actually get to the peninsula at the top of which, a monstrosity of a theme park has been built. We wasted no time beside the garish white buildings and made our way down to the rugged promontory jutting out into the sea. The cliffs here were even more spectacular than Lizard Point and we found a sheltered spot amongst the rocks where we sat and watched the seagulls wheeling on the rough-edged wind while the waves crashed against the last piece of England. Up at the top of the cliffs a person was charging seven pounds to have your photo taken at Land’s End so we made our own little sign out of a small piece of cardboard and took our own photos.
When we left Land’s End we drove up the western coast through tiny villages, along rock-walled roads and past the stark remains of old tin mines and smelters which were dotted everywhere. St Ives was picturesque but touristy so after a short walk around and a snack we headed back to Plymouth.
After relaxing for a while we showered and dressed then walked down to the part of town known as the Barbican. We found a pub that Tina had recommended called Bottoms Up and had a couple of drinks there then went for dinner at a Spanish restaurant.
CurseOfTheTraveller 