Rest Day In Appledore

It was a rest day of rest days. We had nothing on plan, except mailing off our excess loot, making a stab at connecting with the internet, and visiting the North Devon Maritime Museum, which is a block from our house. We never even picked up the camera.

I went down to the Docton Court gallery at 10:00 and hooked in to their internet, and met David Carter, who is the local historian who has written the two volumes of the Illustrated History of Appledore. He's also the lead guy in fighting the proposed Richmond Dock development, about which we see flyers and posters on every telelphone pole. The issue is that a developer wants to put housing in the historic shipyard below our cottage. The local residents seem largely opposed: many houses we pass have signs in their windows saying "Save Richmond Shipyard!" It's half a world away, but their trials are much like what we experience opposing the molybdenum mine in Smithers. Public protest to government is only being accepted at certain times and in certain formats; comment has to be restricted to constructive suggestions; the developer resubmits his plans with only minor changes; and so on.

Went up next to meet Kate and boys at the Maritime Museum. I thought they'd be done in a few minutes in this small local museum, but when I got there they were enthralled, and they were there for two hours in the end. Besides the excellent exhibits, the museum had two great men who told us us stories. There were exhibits on local ships and ship builders dating back to the 16th century (explorers to the Northeast Passage, and fishermen to Newfoundland, then traders in Virginia tobacco, and so on). We learned that the City of Chichester, the cargo ship Galen and Will liberally shelled from the Newhaven Fort, was built here in Appledore, as was the keel of the Queen Elizabeth air craft Carrier yet to be launched.

One room was titled "Appledore's Secret war," and in photographs told the story of all the bizarre and sometimes disastrous military inventions that during the war were tested on the beaches near here. One was the Great Panjandrum, a 12 foot high wheel (like a cable spool) which was filled in the centre with explosives and fitted with rockets around the edges. The idea was that the landing craft released the panjandrum, the rockets were lit, and it rolled up the beach at 60 miles per hour. The explosives detonated in the Atlantic Wall and blew a tank-sized hole through it. When tested on the public beach in Westward Ho! in 1944 it got loose, some of the rockets came off, and it began to go every which way, and was, actually, a disaster. More recently it has been suggested that the whole thing was a disinformation campaign to convince the Germans that the Allies were planning on invading near Calais, where the Germans had such a wall. That's why it was tested so publicly.

One of the men volunteering at the museum was Jim Jackson, who organizes the Appledore Book Festival. Last year, to kick off the festival, he built a half-size model of the actual Panjandrum, and ignited it on a local beach.

We popped back to the cottage for lunch and tried to eat our way through our remaining food. Then went down to John's and bought some padded mailing enveopes for sending home books the kids have finished, etc., around the corner into Market Street for Will to buy the tiny VW bus he's been dreaming of, up Irsha Street to the RNLI for Kate to buy a t-shirt (unfortunately their store was not open) and home again.

I went out at 4:00 for a Cream Tea at the Schooner Tea Room. Advertisements for Cream Teas are everywhere, as if they are an indispensable part of any visit to Devon (or Cornwall). They look kind of tasty and I thought perhaps I should not leave Devon without trying one--and no one else wanted to go. (Kate: "I've tried that, and once was enough!") It was lovely having tea by myself, but the Cream Tea, well, it's a bit of a killer. I mean, a public health hazard. They serve you a couple scones and a lot of clotted cream, which is sort of like whipped cream with butter in it. It's like when you order nachos and it comes with a side of sour cream, and you think "That looks like it'll lead to a coronary, so I'll just skip that." But here the clotted cream is, like, the main point: you spread it on the scones and just eat it. I dug in because, well, when in Rome... but I really couldn't believe it. Couldn't eat for hours afterward.

We mailed our packages off at the Post Office in John's, which was wonderfully easy. Lots of school kids on the Quay jigging for crabs and taking turns at kayaks. Stiff wind blowing from the northeast. Tidal rips in the estuary.