Questa galleria contiene 1 immagine.
On the Sunday morning (a beautiful, cool day; it will become cooler as the day goes on) I am …
29 domenica Apr 2018
Posted 2018 Cornwall, Uncategorized
inQuesta galleria contiene 1 immagine.
On the Sunday morning (a beautiful, cool day; it will become cooler as the day goes on) I am …
28 sabato Apr 2018
Posted 2018 Cornwall, Uncategorized
inDay 8 is the day I have to leave HQ after the seven-nights stay. I really liked the peaceful cottage, which was both very pleasant to live in and conveniently located.
At pretty much 10:00 AM, after a massive breakfast, I leave the place and ride away in the sun. It is another absolutely glorious morning, a sort of compensation for the rainy Friday. Still, I feel that I need a bit more on-foot tourism before this holiday ends; therefore, no great riding activity is planned for the morning.
I ride to Penzance, which I want to visit better in order to have a direct comparison with Falmouth. I ride avoiding the (still excellent) A30, heading south-west via B3280. I arrive to a spectacular little(-ish) town called Marazion, offering a spectacular view of the sea and Mont St Michael (the French have another one; this is the little brother). The view of the sea and the castle from the hill in the morning sun is truly something.
Continuing, Penzance is not far away and can be seen from the distance as I descend the coastal road. Penzance has a road going around the historic town, with beautiful views of the sea, and in this respect literally blows Falmouth… out of the water. I park in the motorcycle parking and set to visit the place on foot. On a Saturday morning the place is relaxed, but lively, as you would expect. I almost die at the sight of the “Egyptian House” (a stunning piece of kitsch that may well have sent its creator to Architects’ Hell), but survive the shock and decide to celebrate the event with another pastry. This one is a steak and onion, and is just as good as yesterday ‘s one; but I eat at a table inside, so no danger from Marxist Seagulls…
Penzance is quite nice, and after a while I go back to the bike. After refuelling (note to self: if you want a “pay at pump” station better choose Penzance, as I have not found one anywhere else) I head for a place I had already visited, Truro. Truro ‘s USP is the magnificent Cathedral, as already stated no doubt a sign of past economic splendour, and even more beautiful in this morning’s sun. If you ride up to the hill (say: where the Courthouse is) the road leading towards the vale will provide you with a spectacular view. After Truro I head again to St Mawes, but this time I enter the village from the castle road, and it is spectacular : the entire bay opens itself up in front of your eyes from the hill, and as you ride down towards the village the view is absolutely enchanting. Ride past the castle and to the village and you will not know what to admire more, the magnificent sea to your right or the idyllic, immaculate cottages on your left. There are some pubs with fully occupied terraces, but I might try in the afternoon. For now, it is time to ride to my HQ for the night, the Norway Inn, located in the basically unpronounceable village of Perranarworthal, along the A39.
—–
After check-in and a short rest in what is now a fairly hot day, I am back in the saddle. This time I ride all the way to St Austell, again in a sun-drenched early afternoon. The satnav avoids double carriageways , so I arrive there through an alternative route , of which A3078 and B3287 are the parts I remember. I don’t stop in St Austell , because I want to just ride around in the beautiful afternoon sun before trying St Mawes again. During this ride it finally happens: a black Moto Guzzi (seems to me an 850 T3 with a modified, raised handlebar ) makes herself heard. The sound is, as always, beautiful. The raised handlebar less so. But hey, de gustibus and all that… After a long ride in the region (ah, the magic of the Satnav!), summarised with the words “you can’t do anything wrong if you avoid every road that might become single track”, a touch of a button sets me on the way to St Mawes again, where a pub with an empty terrace with spectacular sea views allows me to relax with a beer in hand in the somewhat chilly, but still pleasant weather.
When the pint is gone the weather is really chilly, and I set up again. The first 5-6 km of road to Truro are so beautiful – a kind of colder Chianti Vale, if you get my drift – that I make a u-turn and do it again back to St Mawes and then back again to Truro, and the view of those hills in the afternoon sun will probably remain as my “mind picture postcard” of this journey. In Truro again, the Cathedral is gorgeous in the late afternoon sun, but it is now even chillier and time to ride back to the new HQ, where this beautiful Motorbiking day ends.
27 venerdì Apr 2018
Posted 2018 Cornwall, Uncategorized
in
The Friday is the last full day at the present HQ; and, this being England, after two beautiful days the weather is horrid. A bit like the Tuesday morning, but worse. I decide to let the motorbiking go for the morning, the prospect of going out in the cold and rain clearly defeated by a warm, inviting cottage . This is the second lost half-day in the week, but this isn’t the Riviera and it is also April, so I must expect some losses; though I wonder whether July would really be different from April, at least after my August week in the Lake District last year.
After lunch I patiently wait for the rain to at least stop, and when it does I set sail for Falmouth again. I had seen Falmouth on the Monday (day 3), but I wanted to ride back and spend some more time there, because I had the feeling the place had more to offer than on my first, short stop.
As I arrive, I slowly ride around the place some twenty minutes, and these “recon missions” really tell you about a place much more than you can learn from a walk. From the steep hill on which the place is perched you can enjoy many panoramic spots, and every ride down from the hill above, towards the “centre” below, has beautiful views of the sea. A pity the sky is anthracite grey; this must be a postcard wonder with the sun shining.
However, Falmouth has a big shortcoming compared to Penzance: it does not have a coastal road encompassing the village. Rather, the roads coming from the sides (rather flat on one side; hilly, and utterly spectacular, on the other) converge on a narrow main road separated from the sea by a row of houses, with the sea reached via a small number of quays with parking, and ferry approach.
After my “recon”, I park the bike and get to the discovery of the pleasant “downtown” village on foot. It is a nice , fairly lively, very walkable exercise, but again it does not offer a constant view of the sea.
I see an “artisanal” bakery and profit to do one of those cliché things: eat a Cornish Pasty. My “cheese and onion” one is at the height of its fame. So much so, that something strange happens….
I am walking in one of those little parking spaces with sea view, and suddenly I hear a strange noise behind me, and a presence just behind me. It’s a moment: I literally contract and close my shoulders with a sort of “WTF”-instinctive, protective move, even as I see something white flying just over my shoulder and… trying to reach my pasty before flying away. The bastard animal had zeroed over me, like a Japanese warplane at Pearl Harbor, from just behind my back, with no fear at all, and going for his prey, blissfully unaware of the immorality of theft. As I am there, rapidly wondering “Could it be…?” And reflecting that yes, a bloody seagull just tried to attack my pasty, I hear another bird – or perhaps the same one? – behind me, but this time I turn in time and the scoundrel hovers over me, his already begun dive aborted. At this point I notice other seagulls getting near, and get out of the place keeping my obviously extremely popular pasty well protected. As I do this, I relive the “film” of the episode, and realise the damn bird would most certainly have got to my pasty if I had not lowered my arms when this “thing” appeared over me from behind, because his beak (never have I seen a bird’s beek from so near) literally made a “stretch” for the place where the pasty was but one instant before. Boy, it wasn’t Hitchcock, but the like of this I had never experienced. Cheeky bastards.
I finish my pasty before the damn birds get at it, and after a satisfying stroll return back to the bike under a very dark grey sky. From Falmouth, a short ferry ride brings tourist to the little village of Flushing. I ride over there with the bike, and the little village has stunning views of the sea and Falmouth on the other side, quite the spectacle as you descend the hill road. Almost as attractive is the nearby village of Mylor, also providing beautiful sea views.
I ride around a bit enjoying the scenery, very impressive even on a cold, grey, uninviting afternoon; then decide to ride back to HQ as the cold and grey become annoying and 7PM approaches.
But this is not a great riding day, with only 70 miles on the bike, rain or depressingly dark skies……
and Marxist birds thinking that property is theft.
26 giovedì Apr 2018
Posted 2018 Cornwall, Uncategorized
inThe morning of the Thursday is a glorious one, and the best light yet. As I have now the only ingredient I missed before, I return on my favourite coastal stretch, again following the road to Porthtiwan, Portreath, Carbis Bay, St Ives and those other coastal villages leading to St Just, Sennen and the nearby Land’s End.
This morning the feeling is quite different. The landscape has not changed, of course; but the glorious sun with no wind gives the place more of a Riviera feeling than a Poldark one. I enjoy this beautiful morning to the full, and after a small incident (see below) I return back to HQ quite satisfied with the morning. The coastal road to Land’s End truly is like pizza: you could have it every day of your life and never get tired of it. If I ride back (and I seriously plan to) this will be a favourite again.
Excursus – “Single Track With Passing Places”
A problem that presents itself this morning, and not for the first time, is the way Garmin deals with small roads.
Garmin could do worse than create a new category of roads that can be excluded: single tracks with passing places. Basically unknown in Italy or Germany, they appear to be a constant companion of the English Countryside , linking villages in a way certainly more convenient for the sparse locals,who know their neck of the woods, but without breaking the bank for the local authorities. The problem is that Garmin treats these roads like any other, with the result that asking it to bring you from A to B is assured to result, sooner rather than later, in riding along roads which seem fine at the start, and then become progressively more narrow, and then absurdly narrow, and then so tormented and ill-kept that one wonders how on earth can a bike, much less a car, make a U-turn here (answer: it physically cannot). At that point, you end up riding no one knows where, waiting for a tractor to appear on the other side, and then it gets really fun because you will not believe what the locals drive on these micro-lanes. At some point it always works out, at least up to now (can’t wait for a huge tractor meeting another huge tractor, and me coming down on the steep slope behind it); but this is not what I think when I hear the word “road”, and it is an experience more akin to an unpaved road, which can be excluded on Garmin. This, mind, with the “curvy road” function excluded, having already noticed that to keep it active means saying farewell to every decent A roads and many B roads forever. Still, when the cyclist I overtake must literally stop and squeeze himself to the side to let me pass, and looks at me with a very surprised amusement, it is clear that this cannot be considered as just another “road”.
Garmin, who pride themselves on their proficiency and specialised knowledge tailored to the relevant user group, could do worse than address this issue; but I realise that this might not happen for a long time, as other big markets like Germany, Italy and France really don’t have such a massive net of “half-roads” like the ones I meet so often here. If the “exclude single tracks” option were available, the fun would be much increased.
End of excursus
In the afternoon I decide to open the throttle a bit and spend some time on the faster roads: A30 (single and double carriageway), A39 (ditto) and a number of minor B and A roads provide me some good fun for a while, touching Bodmin and surrounding countryside (note to self: not as beautiful as the coastal part, but very attractive nevertheless and with added riding fun). I play “lose yourself” (always fun when a Satnav allows you to “find yourself” again at any time) and the two villages I like most are Camelford and the enchanting, minuscule village of Altarnun , which is so unashamedly English it seems emerged from a painting of that also excellent, quintessential English painter, Margaret Dovaston.
When I get tired of losing myself, I start to ride back towards St Agnes, where the comforts of HQ await. This has been a massive and massively beautiful day, with 240 miles on the clock, virtually all of them in excellent weather.
25 mercoledì Apr 2018
Posted 2018 Cornwall, Uncategorized
in
Day 5 introduces itself with a beautiful sun – particularly welcome following the ugly Tuesday – and after a rapid breakfast I can’t wait to be on the road again. This time I decide to avoid the Coastal Road towards the South, and opt for a visit of some towns instead.
The first stop is Truro. Truro, the Cornish “metropolis” but nowadays very small for British standards, must have had a very prosperous past, which is proudly advertised by its magnificent Cathedral. It is still pretty early and there isn’t much life around; therefore, I am content to briefly stroll with the bike observing the well-kept, but not extremely beautiful old town. Much better, however, is the view of the sea on the background of the Cathedral that you get riding up the hill and then down towards the vale. Alas, some building heresies of the Seventies – most notably a multi-store parking garage and another office building clearly hailing from The Age Of LSD – mar the immediate surrounding of the historic centre.
I leave Truro and head for the second destination of the morning, the small fishing town of Mevagissey. Mevagissey has an extremely beautiful, if narrow, ride along the water, ending in a sort of cul-de-sac with an enchanting view. A picture tries to immortalise the beautiful morning, after which I decide to ride straight to the last destination of the morning, St Mawes.
St Mawes does not disappoint. Another quintessential Cornish village, it is where I finally stop and allow myself a short stroll admiring the well-kept houses and friendly atmosphere in the now livelier morning. The sun has been an almost constant presence this morning, though clouds are visible in the distance. This a beautiful village, worth a visit every time and, hopefully, next time.
But time flies, and I want to be back at HQ for lunch. As I ride there, another quite British thing happens. The grey clouds become bigger and darker, and as I am riding home the rain starts. It is so violent that I wonder whether there will be much afternoon riding or, perhaps, I should call it a day at all. After literally fifteen minutes, as I approach St Agnes, the sun shines again as if nothing had happened. Boy, that does not happen in Italy. By the by, the approach to St Agnes from the hill is graced with such beautiful views of the sea that you are always happy to actually … be about to stop riding.
In the afternoon the weather is still assisting. The first part of the afternoon is spent on faster roads, the A30 and the A39. Arrived in Bodmin I change tune and start exploring the smaller roads, which make the landscape more interesting but the riding not always pleasant (see the “excursus”, Day 6). The Satnav is, once again, quite genial as one can follow his instincts of the moment and ride wherever the road is inviting, knowing that at a moment notice a fast – or, if so wished, slow – way home will be easily found. This is, actually, why I have little idea of where I have been for the following couple of hours, though I think it was never so very far away from Bodmin as I never see the coast.
When I decide to head towards home in the late-ish afternoon, I am led to the A30 (the fast part, with double carriageway) in the beautiful afternoon sun, and then it happens again: the vivid sun becomes strong rain in a short time just like in the morning and, just like in the morning, after 15 or so minutes it is so beautiful you never want to stop riding. Which I actually don’t, riding around St Agnes for around one hour after reaching Cornwall HQ in the glorious twilight and then the almost as beautiful dusk, strolling around the local villages and enjoying the beauty of the landscape opening itself in front of my front wheel at every curve. Motorbiking doesn’t have to be fast, and I have personally never felt the attraction of the big intercontinental ride, or of exotic locations like Vietnam and Mongolia. Give me a beautiful sunset in Cornwall, and a peaceful strolling around among picturesque villages, as the shadows get longer and the landscape immersed in the magic of twilight, and this is all the adventure I will ever need. Honestly, what would improve the experience would be a beautiful sound from the engine. But my Guzzi is 33 years old, I don’t really trust the modern ones, and I am by now old enough to know that, at times, one should be happy with what he has. By the by, no Guzzi spotted today, which leaves the grand total at exactly zero.
24 martedì Apr 2018
Posted 2018 Cornwall, Uncategorized
inThe fourth day, and I am finally reminded that I am in England. It rains insistently all morning, and I decide to stay at HQ altogether; something that would have been more “constrained” in a hotel room, but is decidedly more bearable when you have a living room and a kitchen to play with. And so I play with the pans in the kitchen, and wait for the day to improve itself.
It seems that Motorbiking is a kind of addiction. In the morning the rain had kept me home, but when the afternoon comes and it is still raining I feel that urge for the Motorbiking fix, and be it in the rain and cold. When it becomes a pain to ride I will head back to a warm cottage. For now, it’s more painful to stay home.
And so I set up in the rain, hoping for – at least – a beautiful “wuthering heights” atmosphere (you know: scenic, dramatic skies, stuff like that). But it wasn’t to be. As I set up along the south coast, riding towards and around Polperro, things are relatively fine, if never exciting, for a couple of hours. After that, what I find is… fog, and an awful lot of it at that. I keep soldiering, hoping that the fog will dissolve soon, but it just doesn’t. As I keep riding and riding, I get colder and, if not miserable, certainly not happy. However, motorbiking is supposed to make me happy, and if it doesn’t and I keep doing it perhaps I should revise the entire concept of “addiction”.
I conclude that some days are just supposed to be bad, and no length of ride in the thick, milky fog is going, alone, to change the weather. Still, I do not regret having gone out as, if I had not done it, I would have wondered what I was missing. At least I now know I have not missed anything. It’s a beautiful Country, England, and the rain is the price you pay for all that verdant beauty.
Tomorrow will, hopefully, be a better day. Only 140 miles today, and little enjoyment.
23 lunedì Apr 2018
Posted 2018 Cornwall, Uncategorized
inThe Third day is a Monday morning with grey sky but no rain until the evening. I decide to visit three places in the morning: Falmouth, Penzance, and Lizard point.
The sky is half covered with clouds, with a timid sun coming out now and then. Surprisingly enough, there is a long queue of crawling vehicles along the A30, which I have to cross. Even peaceful Cornwall has its own rush hour. The rest is, actually, very fine. Falmouth is, on first impression, rather underwhelming, and the stop there is not long. But I don’t explore much on foot in Falmouth and might, like Arnie, be back. I therefore leave Falmouth and ride to Penzance.
Penzance is quite nice, with a very well sorted walk and tourist mile on the shore, like – on a smaller scale – St Ives. I ride around there for some 10 minutes, then it’ s straight to Lizard Point, which is – so to speak – the Land’s End of the Southern coast. Not so well organised and “exploited” like the way more famous Land’s End, Lizard point has a rough beauty all its own, with the dramatic cliffs surrounding the place and the less accessible point rich in steps (you can avoid them, but you will have to walk more). From there it’s straight to HQ, where I arrive at 1 p.m. after buying some victuals.
In the afternoon, a wonderful sun belies the forecast, and I am out and about before 3pm hoping the forecasts had it wrong. I decide to ride back to the same villages of yesterday morning, around St. Ives, to see how the sun changes the beautiful landscapes admired yesterday. If yesterday it was beautiful, today is breathtaking, with the sun giving the sea a sparkling brilliance and the hills a beautiful spring glow. I hope it lasts until Land’s End, but no luck. At 4:30 pm it’s all grey again, and Land’s End does not look more brilliant today than yesterday.
St. Ives, on the contrary, is transformed, with a tourist-packed, “Sunday afternoon “- atmosphere on a Monday. One sees tourism is a big part of the local economy. At Around five, as I am riding somewhere between Land’s End and Lizard’s point, the weather changes again for the worse, with bouts of strong wind now making themselves heard (and… felt) and, no doubt, bringing a threat of rain. Having ridden enough for the day, I once again choose the beautiful A30 to bring me back to HQ before 6:30, where a warm, inviting cottage awaits after all that wind. I call it a motorcycling day, and this is already the third day of holiday closing to an end. No Guzzi in sight up to now; which, at the end of the third day, is more than slightly disappointing.
22 domenica Apr 2018
Posted 2018 Cornwall, Uncategorized
inThe Second day does not start well. Around one minute after I started from HQ, the needles of speedo and tacho “freeze” (exactly like a computer would), remaining hanged in the middle (30 mph, whatever the bike’s actual speed). The screen goes dark, there are no indicators and (presumably) stop lights. The engine still works, so I decide to ride back to HQ as, if I have to wait half an eternity for the assistance, I prefer to do it from there.
I fear an electronic gremlin or an electronic component giving up, but as I ride home I keep noticing that not only the engine still sings, but the things which don’t work appear to be simple electric circuits (say: electric windscreen). Once at HQ I check the fuses hoping that the problem is just a blown fuse. Unfortunately, they are both perfect. I “clean” and put them in place again, reflecting that I am now at the end of my very limited knowledge in the matter. I am almost resigned to call the assistance, which on a Sunday morning will probably allow me to cook lunch first.
Very, very luckily, when I try again everything is hunky-dory. Perhaps the vibrations had done something to the fuse, but the possibility of a gremlin remains because the fuses were fully and solidly inserted in their seat, with no vibrations or dirt whatsoever. Be it as it may, everything works and I am happy with that. I can say to you now that the problem did not represent itself during the trip. New mental note: buy extra fuses, “Mini Blade” type, 7.5 A and 15 A.
I start now my ride (with some delay) and ride around the coastal villages, on a road prepared at home during the long winter months. The route leads me through Porthtowan, Portreath, Carbis Bay, St. Ives (very beautiful), Porthmeor and St Just (also beautiful) before heading straight for the small village of Sennen, which is right there by the great attraction: Land’s End.
By this time it is very grey and windy, and the still impressive Land’s End is not at its best. I plan to, perhaps, ride back again on a sunny day, but then again I do not like interruptions to my rides and, were I to be able to ride back in the sun, I would more likely enjoy the wonderful scenery whilst riding.
Yes, the scenery. Breathtaking. This place is above all expectations I might have had, and the coastal tour is a succession of beautiful hilly landscape and sudden appearance of the sea in the distance. It is so beautiful one must make an effort to watch the road ahead. It is also, on the windy and grey morning, a mixture of “Poldark” (hey, don’t judge… What I watched of it I did only for the beautiful landscape and women) and “Wuthering Heights”. I recognise the coastal landscape from the TV show, but that had not prepared me for the beauty I am now seeing.
After Land’s End, I decide to ride back because it is now very late for lunch. The fastest road back is the A30. In this section, the A30 is not only single carriageway, but utterly spectacular. It’s not the road you ride to arrive home fast. It’s the road you ride because you want to.
—-
The (now advanced) afternoon begins with some rain but then stops. This time, I ride initially towards the north and visit Newquay (beautiful place, this one) and Padstow (with a spectacular hotel, very possibly the sign of very elegant tourism in past times, before the age of cheap flights to Spain). Then I decide to “lose myself” riding around the beautiful villages, with the sun now out, and more spectacular views. I end up at the other side of the Cornish coast, in a nice village called Polperro. From there I ride back along the B3359, stunning and panoramic, then along the A38, also beautiful; then it is the A30 again, this time with a lot of dual carriageway but never boring.
I see many wind turbines, which must be an eyesore to some. I find them not ugly at all, and actually majestic in their own way in the middle of the countryside.
Back to HQ in a glorious evening, I profit from the weather and sit outside writing some travel. The neighbour’s cat comes to visit. It is an obviously well-fed animal, and shows to me a friendliness I am unaware of having earned in any way. Sorry, my furry friend: no food and no petting, either, because I am actually, literally, allergic to the likes of you. Poor cat becomes bored and goes away without even a “meow” of farewell.
Alas, he will not speak well of me to his fellow felines.
21 sabato Apr 2018
Posted 2018 Cornwall, Uncategorized
in
Saturday, the 21 May, AD 2018, is the first day of my Cornwall motorcycle holiday. The plan is to stay seven nights in a cottage (until the following Saturday) and let the last night depend on the weather. It’s not raining right now (actually, there is a decent sun) but I am resigned to a lot of rain in the next days; which, I think, is the best spirit for UK holiday rides.
I am a very forgetful guy. Therefore, I have planned my luggage thoroughly and carefully, up to details like reserve spectacles, reserve battery for the key fob, band-aids, and heartburn tablets.
After loading the panniers of the bike in my car, I drive to the garage (which is a couple of miles away, a Council rental) and, before arriving, I realise what I have forgotten: the motorcycle jacket, inclusive of mobile phone and sat nav! I therefore have to drive back after a couple of choice imprecations, retrieve the article, and drive back to the garage. As they say, “you cannot remember not to forget”. Unless you have the same problem, you will not understand…
Therefore, my 2018 Cornwall holiday officially begins on 8:42AM, and after refueling I face the most boring part: the motorway. The southern part of the M25, after an always very impressive Dartford (“Queen Elizabeth II”) Bridge, is uneventful and free of excessive traffic, and the same goes for the very fast M3 (one notices the virtual absence of speed traps compared to the strongly “policed” M25). After a reasonable (but subjectively long) while, the M3 becomes the A303, a fairly pleasant country way with double carriageway, later making place to a way more scenic single carriageway. The sun is shining most of the time (I know, I know… she sun itself shines, actually, all of the time…) and the ride up to now has been blessed with beautiful views of the Green and Pleasant Country.
At some point a queue forms on the road, and the strange combination of big stones visible from the road in the distance explains why: I am now near Stonehenge. Being on a motorcycle holiday, I do not regret riding straight past the combination of stones, along an actually very pleasant A303. This road must be the strangest I have ridden up to now, as it is marked by an almost total absence of villages as you ride through. I suppose the villages must be nearby and protected from the traffic, but it is impressive to ride for so long with so little “30 miles” limit signs, zebra crossings etc. However, gas stations ar ealso very rare along the road. The Countryside (I think we are in Wiltshire now, and then Somerset and Devon before entering Cornwall) is quintessentially British, with gentle hills speckled with forest patches amidst the many pastures and cultures. My favourite, the Rapeseed fields, are now gloriously shining in the Spring sun, and their yellow expanse is seriously beautiful amidst the green forest and pasture patches, and under the now spotless blue sky. It is a good start; let’s hope it keeps going this way.
After the A303, a long stretch of A30 brings me very close to Cornwall HQ, the small-ish but undoubtedly picturesque village of St. Agnes. The A30 has double carriageway for long parts, but it never loses its character of “rural highway” as the landscape remains well visible due to the absence of the tall hedges and closed views I see so often in these double carriageway roads.
Mini Excursus – Dr Goebbels Strikes Again
On a beautiful, one carriageway stretch of A30 I see another sad example of health and safety Nazism (see here): a police car has stopped another car on the side of the road, something we have all seen one million times. However, this particular time there are yellow cones all over the place, blocking the entire lane.
Unbelievable. Must be some dumb new regulation. We truly live in an age of madness, where common sense is being abandoned for the latest, bureaucracy-sponsored fad or press-fuelled hysteria. This time I avoid queues, as the sparse traffic allows to use the other lane straight to get through. Imagine the same exercise on a Monday afternoon….
End of Mini Excursus
The weather is still beautiful as I exit the A30 and approach the village. My cottage is outside of the village centre, near a scenic cove, called Trevaunance Cove, actually only a short walk away. When I arrive the cleaning has not yet finished (I am, actually, early) and I profit for another ride around the place, enjoying the warm Saturday afternoon. Giving another perfect example of my manual dexterity, I fail to extract the key from the combination box no matter how long I try, and I am sure the combination is the one given. As I am trying to get some mobile phone signal to call the rental company, when the “neighbours” tell me the cleaning lady, whom they know, is actually going to come back presently and very kindly offer me a coffee to while away the time. The husband was a motorcycle rider in his local Staffordshire, and rode 100mph on the motorway when it was still legal to do so (that is: some time ago). Very nice, pleasant people, about to ride back to Staffordshire the following early morning. The lady then tries to open the bally box and, like me, fails several times ( I suppose she must have her own keys, but it’s strange she does not know the box better). Unlike me, however, she has a more practical nature, and after a while manages to open the damn thing: the secret is to use both hands to lower the hook on the left whilst leveraging another very small hook at the bottom, as whatever spring is supposed to have been there (making the box spring open with a “clack” as it always happened up to now) is obviously broken. This is one of those things that are obvious, when you know them.
Happy to finally be in possession of my own keys, I greet the kind young woman and proceed to make myself comfortable in the new place before going out again for the victuals and a new refueling; then I close the afternoon with a walk to the cove.
The day ends, after a nice dinner, on an unpleasant note, as the nearby pub is very, and I mean very, loud, with a sort of open-air karaoke (or at east it sounds that way) going on for a while. Thankfully, shortly after 11 p.m. it stops. Still, I make a mental note to check, in future, where the nearest pub is.
A very good day and beautiful weather up to now.
330 miles ridden today.
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