Clovelly

Thursday October 20th
In Which a Chance Encounter Yields a Rich Reward

One of the magic things about travel is that it is often the unplanned events that bring the most pleasure. An example of this occurred this morning while we were having breakfast at our B&B in Horns Cross. Another couple were also having breakfast at the same time and we started to share our travel experiences. When they heard which direction we were planning to travel they made a strong recommendation.

"You must visit the village of Clovelly", the gentlemen advised. "You will not see anything else like it in England".

They went on to describe just why they considered it to be so unique. It certainly sounded worth a small detour from our planned route, since it was only a few kilometres along the road from Horns Cross. We packed our bags, carefully reversed out into the narrow laneway and then turned on to the A39 towards Cornwall

The roads in the UK are classified into M (motorways), A and B or minor roads. M class roads are usually divided and allow for high speed touring from place to place. The next class of major roads are the so called A class roads. These would be similar to our national highways between country towns. You might therefore expect that A class roads would provide safe driving with wide carriageways and few bends. In that case you would assume wrong. In fact driving on an A class road means that you have limited visibility ahead, are likely to face right angled bends every few hundred metres and barely have enough room to safely manoeuvre past oncoming vehicles. It does mean that driving times are always significantly longer than what you had planned.

We reached the turnoff to Clovelly (pronounced Clo - Valley) and found ourselves driving along another narrow laneway with a canopy of overhanging trees. We soon reached the point where a sign announced that cars could proceed no further. We had to park and proceed on foot. The entry to the town is via a large "visitors' centre" where you have to hand over 7 pounds each for the privilege of walking the streets. This seemed a little steep, but since we had come this far, I opened the wallet and paid the money (and NO, there was no seniors’ discount)

We walked through the centre and then quickly discovered just why people would fall in love with this place. Firstly there are no cars, in fact it would be impossible for any vehicle to proceed along the 30% gradient of the main street. The tiny main street is paved with rounded cobbles which must be horrendously slippery when wet. Fortunately we had another glorious sunny day and were able to walk without sliding into oblivion.

Outside every residence is a home built sled, which is their sole way of transporting any goods into our out of the village. We witnessed numerous locals pulling all sorts of items (suitcases, tools, groceries, etc) on these sleds. I wondered how they would cope if one of the residents wanted a piano delivered.

Looking down the main street you can see the wide blue expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. The houses of the village are all painted uniformly white and appear to be clinging to the sheer cliffside for dear life. We scrambled all the way down to the small harbour, trying not to think about how hard it was going to be climbing back up to the top again. As we sat at the water's edge, listening to the sea gulls and the gently lapping water, it truly was an incredible moment that neither of us will ever forget.

Since we were still in Devon, we decided that we MUST have a Devonshire Tea before we move on to neighbouring Cornwall. About half way back up the main street of Clovelly we found a small tea room and ordered two serves of "Cream Tea" at a cost of around 5 pounds each. We sat in the sunshine eating the scones, drinking the delicious tea and considering ourselves two of the luckiest people in the world.

We then scrambled back up the path and back to our car. It was time to start moving once again. One thing we were in desperate need of was cash. Automatic teller machines are not as common in the UK as they are in Australia and some places refuse to take payment by card. When the GPS told me that there was a bank in Bude, ,we once again turned off the A39 and drove into this small township. To my relief I found the ATM machine and filled my wallet with pounds.

By this time we were ready for lunch. Since we had now left Devon and were in Cornwall, I thought it only right that we should sample a genuine Cornish pasty. We found a little cafe, sat down and ordered two Cornish pasties. The young waitress was very polite and soon produced two plates with the pasties we had looked forward to sampling.

I have to admit that, in spite of our initial excitement, the pasties were quite disappointing. They were mostly filled with doughy pastry and seemed to have very little by way of vegetable or meat. I had enjoyed much better pasties in many places in Australia. Neither us of could finish our pasties as they were sticking to the roofs of our mouths too much. Well not all of life's experiences live up to expectations.

We climbed back in the car and drove the rest of the way to Tintagel, our home for the next two days. This town has enjoyed a King Arthur led tourist boom, since some historians have claimed that the Tintagel Castle ruins are actually the location of King Arthur, Merlin and the Knights of the Round Table. Whether that is true or not I cannot say, but the location certainly is beautiful and the towering clifftops along the ocean's edge make for exciting walking.

We walked to the entrance to the castle ruins too late in the day to do any exploring so decided we would leave that to the next day instead. We diverted our walk and followed the clifftops around to the haunting looking St Materiana's Church. This ancient building dates back to the 14th century and inside there is a list of every priest that had served there, right back to the early 1300s. The surrounding fields were covered with hundreds of ancient gravestones.

Our evening meal was at the "King Arthur's Arms" Pub, one of 5 or 6 pubs in this tiny village. Just about every business in the town has been named after some aspect of King Arthur, Avalon, Camelot, etc, I am not sure whether or not there was another pub called "King Arthur's Legs", but I would not have been surprised if there was. The dinner itself was not really up to a high standard. If we were food critics we would have given it about a 4/10.Read more