We packed up to leave Coram Tower but hit a snag; we wanted to take the rubbish out, as there was a fair bit of it. But no garbage bags had been supplied! Welcome to self-contained accomodation in the UK.
I mean, honestly, I get why there was only one roll of toilet paper, but no garbage bags? Who brings those on a holiday? And why should we buy a pack of 50 when we only need one!?
Ugh. So we opted to leave the rubbish where it was. We dropped off the keys at Wessex House (a very tight carpark – the couple pulling up behind us to do the same definitely wasn’t good for my nerves). And then we were off, heading from Dorset to Cornwall!
We intended to stop at a Services, but oddly we didn’t find one for 40 minutes – so unusual for England! I had a brownie and a deluxe hot chocolate. Our cashier commented on the amount of chocolate I would be consuming.
Our bellies and fuel tank full, we again hit the road – and rolled our eyes at the many Services we were now encountering. At least 3 in 20 minutes!
I thought of Jon as we drove past signs for Castle Drogo, Britain’s youngest castle and featured in my 2013 travel journal. Troll GPS, unsurprisingly, took us down an awful, tiny B road lined with moss-covered walls – as opposed to another B road that had plenty of room to spare. Eek!
I had wanted to go to a certain carpark at Port Isaac. Troll GPS decided to take us there via its sister port, Port Gaverne. Good God, that road was tiny, tense and terrifying. I felt as angry and out of sorts as Doc Martin did in the first season of his TV show – and, well, that show was the reason we came here.
Port Isaac doubles as Portwenn in the series Doc Martin. It looked lovely on my TV screen at home. I had no idea how gorgeous the place is in real life.
Parked the car, paid for the privilege, braved the 20p toilets – and then just gawped at the Atlantic Coast. The excellent weather magnified the natural beauty before us. It looked like someone had tossed wooden park benches all over the coast in this part of Cornwall – incentive to trek out to them, I wonder?
We ambled down the tiny, crooked streets of Port Isaac. Navigating them on foot was difficult for us, but even more so for the cars and vans sharing the same space. The road we followed bent and sloped down towards the beach, taking us past the Old School Hotel and Restaurant, which acts as a primary school in the TV show. Here there were takeaway shops and an exquisite view of the cove beneath us. There were stone breaks keeping the boats safe from the ocean waves.
The cliffs standing over the startlingly blue/green water just made it all the more jaw-dropping – and, of course, we could see Doc Martin’s house all the way across the cove. It looked like it stood an eternity away from us!
It wasn’t that far, though. The roads we followed weren’t very long in the end. I did feel like we were being squeezed by the tall buildings on either side of the street, but soon enough we could see down to the (sandy!) beach. Again a great view. The Port Isaac Lifeboat Station was nothing special, though it was offering basic refreshments and proudly bore a sign proclaiming that it was in Portwenn.
We slipped through the narrow opening that had been the basis of me cancelling our rental of Doc Martin’s house – I’d feared I wouldn’t be able to get the car through the gap, but in person (i.e. not on Google Street View) it didn’t seem so bad. There were nearby 20p toilets.
Up we walked (it was a gentle incline) to the house made famous by television. It’s smaller than the large house beside it, but the stone exterior makes it look so friendly. Happily, there were very few people around (one woman apologised and quickly darted past while I was lining up a shot – nice of her), so we were able to pose for photos and just generally enjoy the two-punch of the house and its great view.
Finally, we left. The deed was done. One item on the bucket list crossed off.
We passed a pack of enthusiastic tourists on the way down – whew, I love our timing!
The pasty shops we came across had nothing as exciting what we had in Lyme Regis (it seems Dorset makes better Cornish pasties than the Cornish!), so we settled on chips and nuggets at a place near the Old School. We then lingered on a coastal path leading back to the carpark, eating chips while we admired the beauty of Port Isaac (taking one last look at Doc Martin’s house, of course).
The Husband observed that he likes Lyme Regis more. I’m not sure. Port Isaac may have scary roads but it’s hills aren’t so steep. Plus it is waaay prettier.
We were stalked by an opportunistic seagull (passers-by kept remarking, in amused voices, about our feathered friend – I got sick of it after the fifth person commented!) until I ran at it with a shout. Thus freed of the interloper, we returned to the car.
BUT it was still way too early to head for Tintagel, so we went to a nearby café for drinks. The café sold a multitude of Doc Martin keyrings and postcards. It seems the townsfolk like to make a buck off the popularity of their town. I don’t blame them! And they are nice people.
Finally, time to go to Tintagel!
The roads weren’t terrible – and we avoided the worst of them by ignoring our deranged B-road-loving Troll GPS. Some careful driving later and we were at Tintagel. We found our B&B easily enough. And I managed to get the car through the tiny entrance (bordered by posts) to the driveway – only to discover that there were no freaking spots left!
Sigh. Finally, in a nearby carpark I struck gold – 3 pounds for a whole day, which isn’t too bad.
We tried to find our way to Tintagel Castle, first walking east on Atlantic Road, but then we found two English Heritage signs.
“Castle this way,” Sign #1 informed us.
“Yes, really,” insisted Sign #2. Lol!
These signs successfully turned us back in the right direction. Before we descended to the castle, we paid for our tickets and I was given old 5-pound notes as change (at 12pm today, you could no longer spend them – damn it, now we have two!).
Down, down, down we went…to a picturesque meeting of the land and sea.
More magnificence – Cornwall really knows how to put on a show! The wind threw water in our faces: an undignified welcome. We didn’t dare attempt Merlin’s Cove – the tide was more assuredly in.
I looked up, up, up at the ruins on the great cliff above us and was awestruck. This was a place of legend.
We began the treacherous climb, passing by the staffed gate, then continued on. With a handbag and camera out, it. was a struggle for me – especially with people coming down the narrow steps. Finally, we made it to the lower section of the castle. The jagged rocks revealed the age of the ruins, but they weren’t old enough to have been here during King Arthur’s time (and both time and man are disputed by historians).
This section was ordered built in the 13th century by the Earl of Cornwall – he knew of the Arthurian legends tethered to this mammoth seaside rock and, I suppose, wanted to some of that shine to rub off on him (side note: Arthur was supposedly conceived here).
The castle fell to ruin. And no one lives there now. Well, the earl lived on and ruled Germany. So maybe the legends did empower him in some way.
We climbed up more stairs, battling increasing winds, to view the clumps of stones that heralded Dark Age ruins. There wasn’t much to see. I wondered how hard it would have been for people to move about outside the buildings up here – the wind shoved at me, knocking me aside. Thank goodness I wasn’t pushed in the direction of the “sheer cliff”!!
It was literally a breathtaking view. I struggled to breathe.
We took selfies, but my wild, knotted hair covered my face and transformed me into Cousin Itt! We descended shortly after this, taking note of the Great Hall which had a sign promising us that it had been much larger once, before erosion gobbled up some of it. The main keep, too, is thought to have met the same fate. Superb views and defensible positions are great and all, but this is a major flaw for a building site.
I sat inside the cosy shelter made for Florence Nightingale Richards, who was the gatekeeper and guide in the 19th century (also named after a certain woman, it seems!). No lick of wind dared to enter her shelter.
After this bracing adventure, and the climb back down the stairs, we settled in at the Beach Café. I was in dire need of tea! We had to break a larger note, as our old 5-pound notes would not be accepted.
We could have 2 quid each for a Land Rover ride to the top of the hill, but decided to walk since the weather was so fine.
We found our rooms at the B&B without hassle, though we had to carry the suitcases up two flights of stairs. It was 4pm and I’d spent some time sitting in the sun in the garden, waiting until someone would appear to check us in. Obviously that someone did show up. I wasn’t too bothered; the sun had revived me.
Sea view – lovely. Room – far too hot, thanks to the radiator! We had to turn it off and keep the window open all night.
We sought dinner at a nearby pub. I ordered the curry of the day (a child handed me cutlery and sauces lol). The Husband had a local pale ale and I a piña colada.
We made it back to our room at the B&B and watched Sailor Moon.
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