Dartmouth campsite gave us our first night alone in Eileen this year; no more packing up bags and borrowing beds for a long while. We dined on delicious venison and cranberry pie at the Green Dragon pub in Stoke Fleming and then walked back to the campsite with bellies full to bursting. After a good night’s sleep, we walked down to the South West Coastal Path and followed it around the headland to Dartmouth Castle and on in to Dartmouth town. It was a beautiful walk with lovely views down on tiny rocky coves and out over the chilly looking sea. To the left of us, we passed grassy green fields, yellow rape fields and brown freshly ploughed fields. Beside us, trees covered in blossom, bluebells, whitebells, daffodils, primroses, cowslips and hedgerows full of so very many flowers; all confirmed that this really is a lovely time of year to be strolling the countryside of England.
In Dartmouth we bought a book by the artist Simon Drew, in fact we actually bought the book from the artist, Simon Drew. I’ve always loved his humorous pictures, so it was rather nice to be able to stop for a chat with him. Amusingly, when I asked how the Queen felt about his sketches of her, he answered “I don’t know, I’ve never actually asked her permission”……… www.simondrew.co.uk
After indulging in a Devonshire cream tea, we caught the bus back to the campsite and spent the night rocking and rolling in high winds and pouring rain, it felt like we were on a boat in stormy seas. I was flippin’ glad we weren’t crossing the Bay of Biscay that night!!!
On Saturday, with the weather clearing…..a bit…., we caught the bus back in to Dartmouth and bought tickets for a ‘Round Robin Trip’. Concession tickets!!! When asked if we were over 60, we said that Rodney was, but I obviously looked awful that day, because I was sold a concession ticket too!!! Ah well, I guess there’s nothing wrong with saving money. We climbed on board the ‘MV Cardiff Castle’ and spent 1 ½ hours cruising up the River Dart, passing ‘Greenways’, the home of writer, Agatha Christie, and a reputedly 1,000-year-old yew tree which stands beside the church in Stoke Gabriel.
We had an hour available to stroll around Totnes and we decided that it felt like a cute, English version of Nimbin in Australia, a very alternative, hippy town; I haven’t seen that many dreadlocks and rainbow clothing in a long time. Another bus ride took us over the headland to Paignton, a pretty awful town full of closed down shops, glaring penny arcades and noisy amusement halls. We opted for warming cups of tea in the railway station café, away from all of the inflatable dolphins and plastic paraphernalia.
At 4:15pm we caught the steam train, the Great Western Hercules no. 4277 to Kingswear. This really was a lovely train, a proper train, and we paid extra to sit on a comfy sofa in the Devon Belle observation car at the rear of the train; definitely the way to travel in style. It was just a shame that the clouds started to leak. All day the clouds had looked full and desperate to burst, which they finally did….. before we got off the train. By the time we arrived at Kingswear station, it was bucketing down and dashing to the ferry was a rather wet affair. It wasn’t pleasant getting soaked but at least we were wearing raincoats. Our fellow passengers were a bride, a groom, bridesmaids and their whole wedding party. Sadly, they were all dressed for a sunny summer’s afternoon. Hats were soggy, hairstyles were ruined, the bride looked frozen and the bouquet was definitely overwatered. I felt so sorry for them, but they all seemed to be having a good laugh and enjoying themselves. As they dashed for a local hotel, we managed to squeeze ourselves in to a covered bus shelter for the last bus back to the campsite. So that was bus, boat, bus, train, boat, bus, done!
Early on Sunday morning, we drove, via a rather circuitous route avoiding a half marathon event, in to the city of Plymouth. With rain still coming down, by the time we drove onto the ferry, we were really hoping that the ship would take us to a sunnier climate in Spain. Our fingers and toes were well and truly crossed.
On board the MV Pont Aven, I remarked that our cabin was rather small, but then on reflection I realised that it was a lot larger than inside Eileen and the bathroom was definitely more spacious. We whiled away a couple of hours watching the movie ‘Grand Budapest Hotel’ while our seats rolled from side to side and a little bit up and down. It was rather disconcerting to start with, but the movie was lovely and I soon tuned into the weird rocking sensation. Afterwards we wobbled our way to the bar and enjoyed a drink, while a magician was trying to entertain the only three children on board. But when the bingo started up, we decided it was definitely time to hole up in our cabin and get some sleep. Having a shower was an active, hang on to the handle experience and invoked a fair amount of giggles from me, but salty old seadog, Rodney, was right at home and found my reaction bizarre. We slept pretty well in our rolling beds, far better than I ever manage on an airplane, but it was nice to arrive in Santander after twenty hours at sea, and drive Eileen down the ramps on to Spanish soil.
