When we first discussed this trip I decided I would always take the fastest route to our meeting points and overnight stops. I thought this would be the most efficient. However, by doing so between Land’s End and Bodmin, I totally missed the Rodda dairy/museum. Ben spotted a giant churn of clotted cream somewhere near Penzance I think. Damn! I had also been determined to pick up a bottle of their milk, somehow imagining it would taste better and creamier than the rest. I can’t say for sure, but I bet they refuse to do skimmed. On our first night at The Lizard we saw a herd of dairy cows. 
They were so pretty and had such beautiful creamy-coloured hides that I was convinced they were reserved especially for clotted cream. Daft, I know. Anyway, the road up to Okehampton was scenic, even if it was also very fast and busy. It was Ben’s original route until he saw what he would be riding on our journey down. I was relieved he found an alternative route, but he won’t have such foresight for the rest of the journey so will have to stick to the maps already prepared. I think I’ll follow his course a bit more closely, just so I don’t miss out on any sights!
The Travelodge in Okehampton would not have met Alan Partridge standards. There was no mini bar or special drawers OR complimentary toiletries. Still, it was cheap as chips and there was a tv, so we were able to enjoy the sight of Jose invading the pitch like he’d scored the winner. Since we couldn’t face Little Chef for dinner and breakfast, we drove out to Sourton for our evening meal. Ben had spotted a fantastic looking pub called The Highwayman Inn. We entered through a padded red leather porch and it was equally bizarre inside. I wouldn’t have minded an evening there, pretending to be Bess, the landlord’s daughter (http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-highwayman/ -a favourite from an illustrated book of poems at home)
They were so pretty and had such beautiful creamy-coloured hides that I was convinced they were reserved especially for clotted cream. Daft, I know. Anyway, the road up to Okehampton was scenic, even if it was also very fast and busy. It was Ben’s original route until he saw what he would be riding on our journey down. I was relieved he found an alternative route, but he won’t have such foresight for the rest of the journey so will have to stick to the maps already prepared. I think I’ll follow his course a bit more closely, just so I don’t miss out on any sights!The Travelodge in Okehampton would not have met Alan Partridge standards. There was no mini bar or special drawers OR complimentary toiletries. Still, it was cheap as chips and there was a tv, so we were able to enjoy the sight of Jose invading the pitch like he’d scored the winner. Since we couldn’t face Little Chef for dinner and breakfast, we drove out to Sourton for our evening meal. Ben had spotted a fantastic looking pub called The Highwayman Inn. We entered through a padded red leather porch and it was equally bizarre inside. I wouldn’t have minded an evening there, pretending to be Bess, the landlord’s daughter (http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-highwayman/ -a favourite from an illustrated book of poems at home)
Smugglers and highwaymen…somehow I don’t think my imagination will be running quite so wild on the Shrewsbury/Preston stages, but we will see. I blame too much reading when I was younger. Unfortunately the pub didn’t do meals so we ended up at The Fox & Hounds, surrounded by hunting paraphernalia. Normally these places will have table mats or a few pictures of hunting scenes, but this pub had a full 12ft by 9ft mural on one wall which was pretty hard to ignore!
Now its time to head back to Bristol, via Wiveliscombe and Cheddar. Ben has cycled off in heavy rain under the misty shadow of Dartmoor, fuelled by Little Chef pancakes. It will be good to have a chance to re-pack tonight and really get organised for the rest of the trip. These past few days have only felt like a rehearsal.
Souvenir of the day: A plant from Henry’s campsite. I’m hoping it will fare better than the other piece of Cornwall I have in my possession, a coffee plant from the Eden Project (2007?) which has yet to produce a bean or even look alive. Henry’s plant looks a bit mad and tropical; let’s hope it fares ok in the Bristol climate.
Best driving song: Like A Prayer, Glee cast(!)
Should be reading: Wuthering Heights. Yes it’s the wrong part of the country, but there is something equally brooding about Dartmoor.
Now its time to head back to Bristol, via Wiveliscombe and Cheddar. Ben has cycled off in heavy rain under the misty shadow of Dartmoor, fuelled by Little Chef pancakes. It will be good to have a chance to re-pack tonight and really get organised for the rest of the trip. These past few days have only felt like a rehearsal.
Souvenir of the day: A plant from Henry’s campsite. I’m hoping it will fare better than the other piece of Cornwall I have in my possession, a coffee plant from the Eden Project (2007?) which has yet to produce a bean or even look alive. Henry’s plant looks a bit mad and tropical; let’s hope it fares ok in the Bristol climate.
Best driving song: Like A Prayer, Glee cast(!)
Should be reading: Wuthering Heights. Yes it’s the wrong part of the country, but there is something equally brooding about Dartmoor.
What's this Glee soundtrack nonsense about Helen? I thought better of you?
ReplyDeleteHehe, well I could fib and say that Radio 1 was the only station I could get in the van, but to be honest Ben, me, Ro & Jake are all gleeks (yes, that's the name for us).
ReplyDelete