Hell's Mouth

We left Port Isaac to drive to our next home-away-from-home, a hotel in New Quay. The drive was quick, on the four lane because Larry was a bit tired of the back ways that aftenoon. We both had to laugh though when we passed this on the limited-access highway.

These  big tractors are everywhere, small lanes and highways alike. Even as populated as England is there is still plenty of open land and farming is a major industry.

New Quay was such a letdown after all the cool places we'd stayed. But it was right on the water, and the room was...okay, I have to admit, I was disappointed. The room was clean and satisfactory (and you bet I checked for bugs!) but so small, some things didn't work and it was right off the lounge so I was worried about the noise, but it turned out to be a quiet weekend. Whew. But the town was so busy! Very crowded, lots of traffic. The tourist crowd here was young, young, young. And lots of surfers, of all ages.

I did NOT want to stay in New Quay, so we took off down the coast. I convinced Larry to take the road-less-traveled along the coast and we were rewarded with spectacular views.

We stopped at one place and had a look. The coast path, which runs the entire length of Cornwall, was right there too.

What a place this was. It was called Hell's Mouth, and for good reason. Tricky, high winds and a rocky coastline with steep cliffs and deep caves meant this was probably a smugglers/wreckers paradise. Wreckers were those who had lights, like a lighthouse that signaled ships in to the rocks, where they would wreck on the rocks. Then the wreckers would go out and plunder the ship, often killing all on board. Nasty business, that.

Berries were everywhere. They lined the cliff path, so tasty. I can't pass up a berry patch, and we stopped and had a good snack on them.

Larry actually held on to the hood of my jacket as I was taking photos--he was afraid I was literally going to blow off the cliff! I shook him off and he just turned and walked across the road to the cafe. 

His concern was legit, however. There are small memorials all along the coast to people who have fallen or drowned. When I took one of the photos photo above in this post, I literally had to sit down and scoot back to safety because the wind was so rough. I really wanted to see those caves! Larry was not nearly so keen.

But as usual, Larry found someone to talk to. This gentleman was Cornish sailor, and had traveled the world before retiring to a nearby village. He was full of stories about his adventures on the seas.

We went inside for tea, coffee and toasted tea cakes, a delight after the cool and winds on the cliffs.

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