A Cornish adventure

It's been so long since I last wrote anything that I'm not sure I'll be able to find my flow - but I'm certainly going to try. Please bear with me.

Not entirely sure what's slowed my writing down of late. I guess life just gets in the way sometimes So, to escape it all and disappear to Cornwall for a few days this Half Term was just what was needed.

'Magical' has been my word of choice when asked how the trip was. The sun, the sky, the sea. The colours, the smells, the sounds. All magical. I feel very lucky to have gone when I did; to get so lucky with the weather, to beat the worst of the summer crowds, and to fit so much in yet to still feel rested. I'm sure there's a reason I'm compelled to write again.

Although I spend a lot of time solo, especially walking, I'd never truly been away on a solo adventure, so this was a first for me and I'm so glad I did it, and can't wait for the next one.

I think St Ives was a particularly good choice for solo travel. It made a great base for the few days I was away for a number of reasons. It felt safe, there was plenty going on, and it was really well connected.

I've taken to driving quite a bit recently, but this time I was back on the train again. And maybe I thought I'd write then, as I had around 5 and a half hours to do so, but instead I spent my time in both directions admiring the view and just.. being. Stopping. Not something I allow myself to do often enough at all. Train travel also meant I was able to enjoy local beers (and the occasional Aperol Spritz) without having to think about responsibility later. And it meant that I didn't have to think about finding parking or driving along tricky roads. 

Instead, I made the most of local buses; of which there are several, and one of them was even open-top (cue the excitement)..

My journey began on the 08:03 from Paddington, which meant I was in St Ives for lunchtime. Dropped my bags at the Airbnb where I was staying (a 15 minute walk from the station.. 'oh, that's nothing', I thought. But my gosh is St Ives / that part of Cornwall generally HILLY. Sure my hosts were really encouraged by the sweaty mess that arrived on their doorstep..), and made my way back down to the harbour in search of food. 

Was hopeful for a crab sandwich (when in Cornwall), but the Cornish Deli had already sold out, so I settled for a Po Boy and a bottle of oat stout instead which I enjoyed on the slipway taking stock of how far I'd come and where I'd ended up. 

With just an afternoon for exploring, I decided to stick to town, and wandered a little further - around the harbour and up to St Ives Head - before heading back to my room for checking in and a bit of a post-journey rest. 

Thought it would be nice to catch the sunset on my first evening so far West. Always one to want to know where the 'best' sunset spots are, I took to Google, and found a description for a 'short walk' to a viewpoint where I'd be away from the crowds and would be rewarded by a wonderful sunset.. well.. in true Laura-on-an-adventure-style, my success was limited. Indeed, one thing I hadn't really factored in was that the sunset in Cornwall was actually half an hour later than sunsets in London because of how far West I actually was. So that meant that setting out for my walk more than an hour before sunset was maybe a bit keen.

Another thing I've really learned about myself this holiday (although I wonder if I already knew at least a little bit before) is that it's not only because of their roundness that I particularly enjoy a circular walk. A straight walk just.. keeps going. And so do I. 

Well, before I knew it, my little legs were tired, and I wasn't really sure where I was going but I knew for sure that I hadn't come across the viewpoint as described on Google. So, my first sunset was enjoyed from the front seat on the top deck of my first local bus. I was relieved on my return to find that fish and chip shops in St Ives stay open fairly late in May, and very much enjoyed a Cornish sausage and chips with a can of pilsner from the Harbour Fish and Chips on a bench back at the harbour again. I'm nothing if not classy.

The next morning, I was up bright and early and off in search of breakfast in town before another journey on the 17 bus - this time to Penzance and on to Newlyn and Mousehole. 

Probably quite unsurprisingly, my coffee from at Sea of Coffee was a good one, and went particularly well with an egg and mushroom bap which I enjoyed with a view while I waited for the bus at the top of the hill overlooking (you've guessed it).. the harbour! 

A little slower than expected (although according to my local guide, not an unexpected delay at all), I was happy enough with my front top seat again (or should that be top front seat?) pootling along through fields with a view of the sea, and felt like the arrival into Penzance happened in no time at all, really.

An eager Sarah waiting to greet me at the bus station was a wonderful sight! And we were soon stomping along the prom through Newlyn - where we encountered several nests housing gull chicks - and on to Mousehole, a place I've wanted to visit since first reading The Mousehole Cat many moons ago.

Pasties on the beach with our toes in the sand did not disappoint. We wandered a little around the harbour (they do really seem to like those in Cornwall), and up through the streets in search of a pathway that I was assured would lead us to a pretty dramatic viewpoint.

Turns out Sarah is much better at finding viewpoints than me. The path was rather overgrown in early Summer, but bramble scratches and nettle stings along the path were deemed worth it as we emerged and were met with the most incredible views from the clifftop over the sea and down to the crashing waves below.

Probably could have stayed all afternoon, but eventually we tore ourselves away and stopped off at The Old Coastguard for an actual swift half before making our way back along the coast path to Newlyn where we enjoyed delicious pasta, excellent wine, and the most incredible Cornish cheeses with Sarah's parents.

I was back at Penzance bus station and on the number 17 all too soon. This time, no front seat available, so I sat at the back like a cool kid with the teenage boys (not quite literally).. did mean I missed yet another sunset, but it was worth it for a day of beautiful adventure in the most wonderful company.

My penultimate day arrived all too soon, but it was a day truly well spent.

Breakfast this time was from Crafted Coffee; another good coffee place (again, probably unsurprising) and with tasty pastries too, I was set for my open-top bus ride and plans to walk some more of the South West Coast Path.

Began with some trepidation as I was met quite early on in my walk by a drunkard also 'exploring' one of the old mines at Levant. Definitely kept me moving a little quicker to begin with, and after traipsing down a fairly long road from the bus stop, I soon found myself on my first stretch of coast path and headed to Botallack.

Definitely worth a visit, and really the main reason why I was drawn to this particular part of Cornwall in the first place (Poldark fans will understand), I had great fun exploring the ruins at Botallack and was pleased to find that although there were a few other tourists doing the same, it was definitely possible to avoid each other in the expanse.

The small café at Botallack only served tea and cake, and I was in need of lunch by this point, so I was directed on to Geevor Mine where I found a panini and a cup of tea to fuel me for my onward journey. 

Having bought an all-day ticket for the bus (the excitement got the better of me), I decided to cheat a little. So I headed back to the coast path to do another short stretch before coming back into the village of Pendeen where I hopped back on the bus as far as Zennor and my walk continued.

Zennor to St Ives was about 6 miles, so I figured I'd be back in time for tea (and this time, I actually was). The sun having made an appearance at this point, I probably could have covered it quicker if not for the fact that I kept stopping every few metres to admire the view at every twist and turn which just continually changed all the way along. I loved the fact that I'd be by myself for long periods, but would occasionally encounter walkers headed in the other direction; from those committed with overnight bags on their backs, to families walking together and even one woman in her sandals (not quite sure how she managed some of the rockier bits, I must say). There were rocks aplenty, and much of the 'walk' was more of a climb which was great fun. I also enjoyed the appearance of streams from time to time as well as just how vast the landscape was on either side. 

St Ives coming into view as I rounded the final headland was a welcome sight. I treated myself to an Aperol Spritz at the beach bar, and headed straight for the sea for a cool (freezing) paddle. 

My final evening, and it was third time lucky for a sunset. Timed my arrival into St Ives just right, and was able to grab some fish and chips at The Balancing Eel (never have I waited so long for fish and chips, but it was worth it) which I took to a spot on the cliffs up by St Nicholas Chapel away from seagulls and fellow tourists. Nothing like the vastness of the sea and a setting sun to put things into perspective. It was perfect (maybe even more so because my phone had finally given up the ghost, and I was forced to just enjoy the moment for once).

I'd booked my return train to London for the afternoon so that I could cram in a little more holiday on the day of checkout. And first on the agenda was a boat trip to see the seals that I was a little too high up to spot the previous day from the coast path above.

It was just myself and two families aboard the Dolly P, which worked out quite well as they were all keen to sit in the centre of the boat to shelter from the sea spray, while I was more than happy to sit at the back of the boat and get a little bit soggy. Our crew were two lifeboatmen which meant we were in more than capable hands, and one also happened to be a marine mammal medic, so was armed with facts a-plenty about the marine life in and around Cornwall. We were lucky enough to see lots of seabirds on our way round the coast, and plenty of seals sunning themselves on the rocks of Seal Island, so it was a trip worth taking.

Back on dry land, the search for crab began again, and this time I was pleased to find The Slipway serving a crab and Cornish cheese toastie which I took down to the beach and ate keeping a very close eye on the approaching tide and greedy gulls. 

Up to this point, I realised I hadn't actually braved the high-street, so I decided to take a wander along it and in and out of the various gift shops for a spot of souvenir shopping. Final stops were to Moomaid of Zennor for dark chocolate sorbet with a fudge stick, and last but not least, to St Ives Brewery for one more local beer with a slightly different view over the harbour, which I could definitely never tire of.

Sintra

From having not been away away in forever, to a sudden flurry of trips, I've not been able to keep up with myself!

So, I write this first post (possibly of 4, maybe even 5.. strap in!) in retrospect. Hopeful that I haven't forgotten anything, but also aware that realistically, I probably will have. One thing I won't forget in a hurry is the feeling I had as I lay on a yoga mat in the middle of an enchanted forest in Portugal, having only been at work less than 24-hours before. Pure bliss. Surreal, but pure bliss.

I think booking a retreat for our first adventure abroad in over two years was definitely the right thing to do. It was an utterly magical day among a small group of lovely women, in a really beautiful setting. We shared. Experiences, stories, expression, an enchanting space, a delicious lunch; it felt like a real 'welcome back'. And even 3 months on, I'm still carrying the energy with me. I'm still asking the questions; still keen to learn more. Someone actually suggested the other day that I should blog about my yoga journey. If I do, I think the Sintra retreat might be where I start.

But, for now, I'll move on to the evening after. Having arrived in the dark on the previous evening in a taxi that hurtled along the narrow, cobbled streets the wrong way (my Portuguese may be next to non-existent, but I can still recognise signs for one-way streets), then headed straight out to the retreat the next morning, we hadn't really had time to get our bearings.

So, when our day in the forest came to a close, we wandered slowly back to our apartment; taking a little more time to admire Sintra in all its fairy-tale glory (made even more charming in the evening sun). That evening, we learned that we'd be eating a lot of bacalhau, especially at the particular restaurant we had chosen where they served nothing but (it's cod, by the way). 

The next day, the weather had turned. But it was dry, so we headed to Cascais for a day by the sea. Found a nice, sheltered spot on a small beach in a bay where we stayed until lunch; people watching, splashing in the sea, and telling ourselves that it definitely was just about bikini weather..

One of the women at the retreat had recommended a place in Cascais by the lighthouse which offered live radio and good food. So, we walked there for lunch along the waterfront and past some interesting buildings (and a volleyball tournament (we didn't stop)).

Sam was glad that we opted to climb the lighthouse before eating, as once at the top, she may have otherwise lost her lunch. In going up when we did, we also seemed to beat the crowd. Sat at the bottom looking up as we ate, it certainly seemed a lot more popular all of a sudden (we're clearly just such trend-setters).

After food, we were back on the bus, and on our way to another recommended spot; Adraga Beach.

The weather had still not improved, but having grown up spending time on Norfolk beaches in all weathers, in all seasons, we were not deterred. Seemed this particular beach was a popular spot with surfers; we were taken aback by the power of the waves as we wandered along the sand, and between rocks.

As much as we didn't want to tear ourselves away, we were aware that time was pressing on, and we were ever-so-slightly in the middle of nowhere (eek!) with a fairly hefty walk back up a hill to where we'd be catching the bus.

Well, Google Maps failed us. And while there's a fairly long story here somewhere, I'll spare you the details and just say that we were truly grateful to the elderly gentleman who entertained us with his fashioning (and testing) of some sort of pan flute made from plastic tubing, as we sat on the kerb outside his house. He really did sound surprisingly good!

Eventually, the bus came (of course not before two others that couldn't take us where we needed to go appeared) and it was back to town for dinner and an early night to recover.

Aahh, the Pena Palace. Just when we thought the weather couldn't get any better, it didn't. It got worse. A whole lot worse. But in true British-tourist style, we powered on through (well, and we were lulled into a slightly false sense of security as we headed out into sunshine in the town itself in the morning).

..actually, it wasn't exactly sunny, was it?

One thing we learned about Sintra is that it's a bit of a micro-climate. And as our bus climbed up the mountain rounds, there was a distinct shift. The Pena Palace of pictures was barely visible as we reached the end of the line for entry. It was comical, really, how determined we all were to have a nice time as we stood in the queue being battered by wind and horizontal rain. Some of us had been sensible enough to have at least something waterproof to hand, but many of us had not (although, as I tried to reason, skin is waterproof.. isn't it?).

Maybe not what we'd expected, it was still an experience and we made the best of it. The cloud did clear up at least enough to appreciate the palace's colourful facade, and our walk through the gardens was at least dry.

The Castle of the Moors, we both agreed, would definitely make for a lovely family day out on a bright and sunny day. We soldiered on, but by this point, we really were getting very wet, and could barely see where we were going as we climbed up steps and along the ruined walls, let alone admire any views of the town and countryside below. Wet through to our unmentionables, it was time to swallow our pride and call it a day.

A warm shower, and a swift change into some dry clothes back at the apartment, we found ourselves in a lovely little restaurant almost right next door, where the waiter (possibly the owner, too) was very keen for us to try the desserts he'd just whipped up for the evening service. We did, and they were delicious.

Having abandoned our palace / castle crawl the previous day, we resolved to fit one more in before we would make our way back to Lisbon for our flight home.

Maybe it was in part an improvement in the weather, but I think either way we both agreed that we'd saved the best til last. Much of the palace itself was closed off for refurbishment, but the gardens were great fun to explore. We enjoyed spiralling down into the depths of the well, crossing various bridges, climbing towers, and walking through the grotto.

Finally, after a bite to eat, it was time to collect our luggage from the Tourist Information office and board a train to Lisbon.

Having spent longer than we anticipated in Sintra in the morning, our Lisbon exploration was brief, and a little bit frantic. But it was nice to crash a honeymoon (don't worry, they were expecting us), and to enjoy refreshment while enjoying a view over the sea in the sunshine (typical). Oh, and there was definitely time for tram hysteria, so that was good.

I think a few days away was the perfect amount to ease us into holiday-ing again. And it was very grounding (if that's the right word) to see people we knew. A very special trip, all round, really. Maybe we'll be back for more retreating in the not too distant future. I hope.

Antiquing

A couple of pieces from Christmas <3

Bit of a bus adventure again this weekend (my life is TOO exciting!). Content in my bus bubble I was hypnotised by clumps of icy snow sliding down the window, with the occasional rude interruption of branches battering the top and sides of the vehicle as we trundled down roads clearly too narrow for wide loads! Two and a half hours later... and no thanks to the almighty detour, I landed. I rarely seem to get out of Norfolk these days, and this weekend was no exception as my bus journey was only from as far as Norwich. But it really was lovely to be back, particularly as I took the opportunity to go antiquing! I say antiquing, I didn’t actually purchase for once, but there is still nothing I enjoy more in a torrential downpour than taking shelter in a flea market. I have a penchant for mis-match china, jewellery (of course), mirrors, and anything else that looks pretty to me, regardless of its function!

The previous weekend I had visited St Andrew’s Hall for a vintage fair, where my friend and I admired the many men lining the walls in their high and mighty paintings, reminiscing over the days of curing boredom in our rehearsals in the oboe section by deciding which we’d rather like to marry. With all the memories of past performances it still feels a little odd to be in there when it’s full to the brim with vintage clothing or antiques, but what a space for it! In my attempt to relieve myself of bad hair with a little wander in the pouring rain (I know it sounds ridiculous but I was convinced that the wet-look would at least flatten it slightly) I stumbled upon a flea market there this weekend, and spent a good hour moseying around and having my jewellery complimented by ‘vintage’ ladies, lovely. As I’d made it to that end of town, thought I’d continue the theme and head for Loose’s Antiques Emporium. I rarely allow myself the pleasure of a trip to Loose’s (so called because it is set-up in the old Loose’s Cookshop building, not to be confused!) as I so easily lose myself in it all so need a rather large amount of browsing time. If it wasn’t already enough of an ‘emporium’, this time I was treated to even more antiques out back, and the entire upper floor was open and abundant with treasures (it’s so huuuuge)!

Very difficult to tear myself away and keep my purse in my bag (bus journeys are hardly the place for stacks of antiques, let alone when they’re quite so rattly) but I am already so excited for my return and another day of antiquing!  

Elm Hill