Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
There was no room in the rucksack for the wellies, so Ben hung them over his shoulder
with the plan to pass them onto someone with small feet and a need for wellies. A pixie
farmer, perhaps.
Cornwall was stunning. We couldn't see much of it because of the fog, but what we
could see was spectacular. There was no distant hum of a motorway that disturbs the calm
of many other parts of the British countryside. Even the villages had a ghostly silence.
The fog caked the surrounding landscape and enclosed us in a cocoon of cloud. The fields
contoured unpredictably and large clumps of rock dotted them like gravestones. The view
would have changed very little in a thousand years. Apart from the road we were walk-
ing along, and the hedgerows, there was no sign of modern civilisation whatsoever. It was
simply beautiful.
Just after 6pm we reached the village of Pendeen, which, by Cornish standards, was
bustling. The North Star was an attractive looking pub from the outside and it didn't disap-
pointontheinside.EnglandwereplayingaEuropeanqualifierandeveryoneinthebarwas
watching the game intently on the TV. We had to scurry across the floor so as not to block
the view of those at the bar. I wanted to stay in that pub forever. There was beer, football
and a big log fire. I came close to asking the landlord if we could stay, but instead reeled
off the spiel about bikes.
'Sorry guys, I can't help,' he said.
Disappointed, we loitered at the bar for as long as we could. We saw Steven Gerrard
score before retreating outside to the cold road.
We were warned that once we left Pendeen there was nothing in the way of civilisation
until Zennor, which was eight miles away. For the first time, we had started to think about
where we might spend the night. We knew that even if we miraculously managed to get
bikes, it would be dark by the time we reached Zennor. Despite the possibility of not being
abletofindanywheretostay,BenandIwerestillfullofadrenaline fromthechallenge that
we had set ourselves, and so it was of little concern.
'What happens if we can't find anywhere to stay?' asked Ben.
'We'll just find a pub, stay there until they throw us out and then hang around outside
until morning,' I replied.
'Oh,' said Ben. 'Ok.'
Just on the outskirts of the village we knocked on the door of a house with a collection
of weird bits and pieces strewn across the front yard; drift wood, buoys, lobster pots and
fishing nets. It was as though a high tide had spewed a shipwreck in the garden. We were
several miles inland, so this was extremely unlikely.
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