What is this?

We saw this plant, with geranium leaves and tree-like trunks, at Port Isaac. What on earth?


Then, at Portquin, we saw this very bizarre, um, flower?





I'll have to try to identify when I have a stretch of blank time.

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The bay at Port Isaac

We were confused as to whether the dual breakwaters were associated with Port Gaverne or Port Isaac, but we parked at Port Isaac, and didn't walk far.


Obviously, the day wasn't as nice as the five or six previous had been, but we've been incredibly lucky regarding the weather.





Loads of homes perch on Cornish hillsides!











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Port Isaac

Our ankles being a bit wobbly (as a result of yesterday's cliff-top wanderings), we decided not to traipse all over Port Isaac. What we saw of the town we really enjoyed, though.











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The battle for best cream tea

We have consumed, I am embarrassed to say, three cream teas at this point. We had one in Cheddar, one in Trebarwith Strand (who could resist that sign?), and one in Padstow yesterday.

The one in Cheddar wins Best Clotted Cream, and Greatest Lashings of Clotted Cream. That little bowl was brimming, at the outset.


The one in Trebarwith Strand wins Best-looking Clotted Cream and Best Teapot, though you can't see the pot in the pic.


But the one in Padstow wins Best Strawberry Jam, Best Scones, Best-tasting Tea, and a special mention for including scrumptious fresh strawberries on the plate. Even though it was a touristy take-away, mostly ice cream shop that served the tea as bags in mugs, the Padstow location wins in most categories. Omigosh it was good.





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Relaxing in the afternoon

We elected not to follow our walk up with any activity. So we sat around the rest of the day. I peered over the lip to nab a couple of beach photos; Vic actually strolled the beach, exerting more energy than I had remaining.





While we were enjoying a cup of tea, a gaggle of young surfer dudes sat at the next table. I was thinking: Great. Now we get to hear them harass young women on their way to the beach. Or to deal with their explosive exclamations over text messages without startling. (Go ahead, label me.)

Instead, they took out a beat-up wooden case containing a backgammon board, and began to play. I realized that I had heard no harassment (though among my own generation there was evidence of unwarranted paternalism), and seen not a single young person focused on his/her phone or texting, during our stay. So call me age-ist. It is welcome to witness such humble, human interaction.


When I asked some of the young men if I could get a picture, they must have thought I wanted them to photograph us. They were very surprised to be the focus.

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Location:Trebarwith Stand

More from the return to Trebarwith Strand

I kept saying, by the way, that we are in Port William. We are within the Port William Inn, which is in Trebarwith Strand, Tintagel. So really, we just walked from one part of town to another. :)





Who can say what ruins these are?





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On the way back to Port William

In case you don't know, Tintagel is associated with a seat of power that was once occupied by Arthur, or the man associated with the legend of Arthur. No extracting swords from stones, of course. For reasons lost to history(!), I have long enjoyed the romantic tales of the Knights of the Round Table. Hence my return, trip after trip, to Tintagel.

This would be my first time walking from a nearby coastal settlement, though. And I found the views just amazing.











You can SEE the wave energy building.










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More Tintagel

Victor descended to the beach. Though that was permitted the very first time I came to Tintagel, it was restricted on every subsequent journey. The pictures from his descent will have to wait ten days--I can't transfer them--but here are more of the mainland ruins:


























Victor approaches, exhausted by the climb back up from the beach.


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Location:Trebarwith Strand

Tintagel

When we got there, at last, it was closed until Saturday. That applied only to the headland, below.


Below, the growing metropolis of Tintagel, which did not exist in 1997, when Gill and I were here.


And ruins of the castle, from here on out:


























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Location:Trebarwith Strand