Tintagel and Padstow

Galen has been saying he wanted to go to Padstow, in Cornwall, ever since we began planning this trip. It's a small harbour he's sailed around many times in "Ship Simulator," so, yes, here were were going to a place because someone had seen it in a computer game.

It looked like a long drive, so we left pretty early, about 9:20. It was an actual rainy day! As we drove the twisting and winding (yet narrow!) A39 towards Bude, with all the windows up, Will started to feel sick. (This was when the car got the new nickname, the Stinky Whale). We spent a long time in a remote yet charming lay-by near the turn for Hartlands Point, and then proceeded with all windows open. It was mighty cold! But it worked for Will, and he made it into our first stop, Tintagel, without problem.

The village of Tintagel is, as you will read in many a guide book, a bit of a disaster. The famous castle (which I was wanted to see; I was the motivating force in coming here), built half on a headland, half on a island, and graced by a lot of Arthurian hoopla, draws so many visitors that every tourist shop imaginable has sprung up in the little village. As you drive in, the word "commercial" does come to mind, but that said, the village is set well back from the ruin and does not really intrude on it. And there's a lot of interesting pottery for sale.

Somehow we were befuddled at first. We parked in a car park whose sign heralded "Closest to Castle!" but then, on foot, we somehow missed the signage for the castle and wound up walking into a newish development of detached houses, and came upon to a ghastly castle-like hotel ("Camelot Hotel: Best coffee in Cornwall!") built overlooking the real ruin. Now we could see where we should have gone, so we trekked back into town and down the right path. We passed a bakery where they were making pasties in the window (Will had to be promised one later) and a sign that said "Land Rover service, £1.50." They'll actually drive you, in a Land Rover, down the long path to the shore where the ruin is; and more importantly, back up.

But we walked. It was pretty windy and rainy at times, but there was still a man in the little English Heritage booth at the entrance to the ruin. "So you want to go in, do you?" he said sceptically. We showed him our English Heritage card and he passed us through. Down slippery steps in spitting rain to a little wooden ramp that goes over to the island, and then up more wet steps, switchbacking up to the entrance of the "Island Keep." There were birds wheeling in the gap between the headland and the island, and it was, well, despite all the New Age excitement, quite magical. We had the ruins mostly to ourselves because of the weather, and we explored all over. The views out along the coast were also wonderful, with high cliffs in both directions, and caves. Just to the south we were pretty sure we could see the cliffs where they filmed the "Cliffs Of Insanity" scene in the Princess Bride: massive black cliffs, topped with thick green turf, white birds wheeling in the gulf of air, surf crashing at the bottom. But really all of the Cornwall coast seems to look like that. So maybe it wasn't.

Most of the wheeling birds were gulls, but there was one pair that were something different. For one thing, they had white spots on the top of each grey wing; for another, they almost never flapped. Their bodies were shorter than a gull's, and they heads and tails were white. Mystery bird.

Reminding us of the day's theme of visiting a place familiar from the computer, Will said, of the grasses waving in the wind atop the island, "That's just like special effects!"

A quick visit to the gift shop, and walked back up to the village, where we bought pasties and ate them inside a small shop while it continued to spit rain outside. A quick survey of the street indicated one could by a hundred different kinds of pasty, and ice cream, but little else. Piled into the car and drove to Padstow. Both boys slept.

Padstow was unexpectedly charming, a town on a blue-green estuary (more Caribbean water!) with a working quay of fishing boats, and a full-blown tourist scene next to that. It was definitely raining now, and yet it was downright crowded! Galen and Will danced with glee to see the actual places they know from Ship Simulator ("I always try to bring my boat in through that entrance to the inner harbour and I always scrape the sides!") and we shot the requisite pictures of them in front of these scenes. We ran from shop to shop to stay dry. The Pasty thing in Cornwall is even more out of control than it is in Devon. There were actually three pasty shops in a row on one street.

Headed out around 5:00, and the last stop on the long drive home was to buy some petrol. Pulled over near St. Kew to do just this, and we could not figure out how to get the gas cap open! However it was merely the last of a long series of challenges we'd faced that day. The solution to this one was my pocket knife. I don't think I actually broke anything.

Arrived home about 7:00 and had a late dinner. The drive was exhausting. I don't think I've ever shifted gears so much. Every 60 seconds there is a different speed zone or type of curve, or change in grade. (And this is a green A-road!) And the oncoming traffic zooming past you mere inches away. It would be delightful if it weren't so dangerous.