On Our Own in Southeast England -- Devon and Cornwall (1 of 2)

 

As every year, after three intensely people-y months we needed some alone time to decompress. So after we picked up our rental car we took a couple of days right where we began, in Bournemouth, only 1/2 hour from where we left the ship. Our plan was to do absolutely nothing, maybe a stroll along the beach, a (very) long hot shower, a pub, and then we had a nice road trip planned for us. 

The cottage we were staying in after leaving the ship could have used some updating of the decor. But when this is the view from the front door, it’s not like we were going to be spending much time indoors anyway! Our first night off the ship was weird; I missed the little rustling of our shipmates sleeping near us in the dorm and the unconscious knowledge that we’d protect each other (I think deep down, humans are pack animals after all). On the other hand it was nice to be able to just … talk to each other instead of texting back and forth between our bunks in the sollao (dorm). 

There were fireworks that evening on the pier just to the left of the beach in the photo; all we had to do to have a perfect view was to step out the door of our cottage onto the grassy lawn. We ate food that somebody served to us, and didn't have to wash our dishes afterwards. We walked along a beach with golden sand, while eating ice cream. This town has some interestingly-named pubs. There’s the “Good For What Ales You” and the “Hop Inn.” But we absolutely had to try the “Goat and Tricycle.” BTW, I know some of my friends claim they can walk into a place that is haunted and immediately feel it; I can’t. But this pub had the opposite, a kind of inherent good vibe. Commented that to the bartender who claimed to feel it too. Ate lunch at a somewhat awkward high top table near the fireplace just because it felt nice sitting there, and the bartender commented that it was their favourite seat in the house.

Remember what I said earlier about the pubs being named so their signs could be interpreted even by people who couldn't read? Goat and Tricycle is an interesting visual, yes?

Tiny bit of tile detail from the portion of the pub front. 

Salcombe, Dartmouth, Falmouth, Woolacombe, Bath, and some intriguing places in between like Sir Frances Drake's birthplace and King Arthur's castle at Tintagel, were on our road trip itinerary. And speaking of road trip, neither driving on the left, nor roundabouts, proved to be much of a challenge. What was challenging was extremely narrow, winding roads and a somewhat larger car than we'd anticipated -- but it was fun! 

There was a minor snafu with the rental company. They didn’t have the car we requested (small suv similar to our own car at home) so they gave us this brand new red Mercedes Benz instead. I felt like a teenager again … but not in the “young and carefree” sense. More like, “new driver flinching at every oncoming car.” Learning to drive on the left side of the road was surprisingly easy, probably aided because I haven’t driven at all for 3 months. But the roads here, while beautiful, are very steep and narrow and winding. I haven’t broken anything yet…

This is the harbour at Salcombe, the first stop on our road trip tour of this part of England. Incredibly sheltered natural harbour, yet easy access to the sea. Totally understand why England became a great maritime nation with this kind of base to operate out of.

After some adventures and misadventures on the road, made it to Falmouth on a perfect-weather day. Nearby Pendennis Castle was doing a medieval living history demo so we checked it out. The park staffer at the gate apologized mightily to us for having to charge more than normal, "because of the festival going on here today, you see." Apologies? Why? This is just an extra bonus for us! Knights in armor? Falconry? Period music? My kind of afternoon! I would have planned around it if I could, if I had known, so double-bonus-points to have stumbled on it by luck alone.

Some people build gingerbread houses, but when we walked past this Cornish bakery with a galleon in the window made entirely of pastry dough we knew we had to come back when they were open! Their specialty is Cornish pasties, originally a convenient packet filled with meat and vegetables that wives and mothers would make for their menfolk to have for lunch in the mines. The ones we had this day were curried cauliflower; but I’ve also grown quite fond of cheese and onion.

A pastry chef's art project

Lots and lots and lots of choices!

Large, hot, and very filling.

Who better to sail a pastry galleon than gingerbread pirates? (h/t April Carnahan Albertine)

  

We enjoyed just walking the streets of this town. Like Ramsgate, it had that "pull" for us; a place we could see ourselves living for a while. 

You don't have to squint very hard to turn the bunting on the street into flying stylized birds.

A great mix of new and old buildings. 

Very high-energy band, playing a mix of modern and traditional sea shanties and some original maritime-themed music. It was a ton of fun!

We thought we were just stopping in for pizza, but this place just a few doors down from our hotel was packed! Then we learned about the live entertainment.

   

Of course, it wouldn’t be us if we didn’t visit a local museum to see the stories the town tells about itself. And this one promised an exhibit about pirates, so how could we not? Photos: recreation of a workshop; Dan following the instructions “pirates this way;” costumes for Captain Hook from Peter Pan, and Jack Sparrow; and the story of a local Cornwall woman pirate, Lady Killigrew; another exhibit showed a variety of small boats including the smallest craft ever to sail across the Atlantic, but the most touching story to me was the inflatables that migrants use to cross the English Channel. On my tours of El Galeon I talk about the context that although the voyages to the colonies in the "New World" were dangerous and uncomfortable they seemed like a good plan because conditions were so desperate in Europe at the time. But even in a modern 500-ton vessel we found it sometimes bouncy crossing the channel, can you imagine doing it in an open dinghy? Can you imagine the desperation that would make that seem like a good plan? (21st century, meet the 17th). Dan “meeting” the ship’s agent. Falmouth, we learned, is the third-largest deep water port, critical in the past because it’s the furthest west in England.

Poole -- and the End of the Cruise for Us, for This Year

 

We had closed our loop. Three months previous we began our tour of duty on El Galeon by taking a ferry from Poole to Jersey; now we returned to Poole where we'd end our time on the tall ship and begin our own adventures.

I love when people dress up to visit the ship! These women told me the story of smugglers in Poole, where the women didn't smuggle directly, but collaborated with the men who did. The women would go down to the waterfront to meet the ships, dressed in ordinary (if particularly loose and shapeless) dresses. When they arrived, they'd take off their clothes, wrap themselves in many layers of silk that the smugglers were bringing, then put on their ordinary dresses over to cover the silk up again, and walk right past the customs agents without paying the import duties.

One of my favourite perks is crew-to-crew courtesy tours. Here, we headed off on a local day-tour boat for an informational tour around Poole Harbour (the employees of that boat got tours of El Galeon, too).

Interesting old streets and buildings.

Decked out as I'd come to expect the waterfront in seaside towns.

We had a farewell barbeque; I went around the ship taking selfies with all my friends on the crew (in other words, everyone); and we gifted the ship one of the antique nautical instruments we'd bought back in Whitby. Next morning the chief engineer gave us a lift to the edge of town to pick up the rental car we'd reserved, and we were off on our own, with a few extra t-shirts and a lot of wonderful memories.

High-energy dancing at the bbq

I'm really going to miss this crew!

Antique pocket sundial/compass

In its new home, on the table in the zona noble.

A member of one of the local Poole "pirate" groups posted these pictures of the ship leaving the harbour at the end of the visit.

 

Ramsgate to Poole -- Our Last Overnight Passage (for this year, anyway)

 

Our last overnight passage (of this tour, anyway). Milky Way. Moonrise. Shooting stars -- so many stars in the sky that some fell out, or as they say in Spanish, "it's raining stars." Five knots of speed over a nearly flat ocean using just the trinqueta (lower forward sail). And then this sunrise. If it’s gonna be our last for a while, the universe certainly conspired to make it a good one!

See 'ya later, Ramsgate! We're off to Poole.

 

This woman was one of very few people who came to the dock in the very early morning to see us off. A few days ago she and her young grandson had been one of the first in line to come aboard after we'd had a delayed opening due to tide, and a jerk of an entitled guy demanded to be first on.  She and I both knew his story was a lie, but she graciously let him "win," and she and her grandson became the second ones to board. Luckily for the universe, I was working quarterdeck after having to let him board at the gate. When she and grandson arrived, I whispered my thanks and told them to hang out until the deck was less crowded. After most of the people cleared, I took down the "authorized personnel only" rope and gave them a quick peek behind the scenes at the bridge and borrowed her phone for a few poses at the helm, in gratitude for her flexibility with jerk guy, before turning them loose back to the public areas to continue their tour. So she came back that last morning to tell me how much her son (the father of the boy) appreciated the photos! It's being able to make special memories like these for deserving folks that makes my job worthwhile. Yeah, the bridge and helm are part of my everyday life, but for that child, they were once in a lifetime.

   

Easy conditions, we made good speed and comfortable on this forward lower sail alone. 

Underway, we entertain ourselves with sail changes, safety drills, light maintenance, and the endless views. 

Nothin' but blue ... 

... in every direction

At the time, though we were tired and ready for our own schedule and space and privacy, we felt the bittersweetness of last-times. We've since learned that it probably won't be the last time; we're slated to go back to the ship summer 2025.

Ramsgate

 

Ramsgate was one of my favorite cities, yet I have few photos of it; not sure why. It was famous as a seaside resort and fishing town in the 19th century and Queen Victoria spent time there as a young woman. There were some pretty streets, a beach, interesting buildings from Victorian times. But what stood out for me was the incredible white cliffs.

We got up at 5:00 AM one morning to walk out past the edge of town to see these chalk cliffs, and then back to the ship again in time for work at 8:30. 

The closest point to mainland Europe, Ramsgate took more than its fair share of bombing in WWII. They carved a network of tunnels deep into the chalk, enough to house the entire population to keep them safe during the war. Now a section of the tunnels is open as a museum. Like the park benches in my previous post, this bitter history is being kept in memory.

Massive front entry, after walking past what I've come to expect as typical seaside resort frontage, fish-and-chips shops, arcades, and pubs.

There are miles of tunnels.

Now you can spend a night in the tunnels as an excursion for scouting troops, but during the war people spent months here.

The front part of the tunnels is set up as a museum open for free; we paid for the more comprehensive tour deep inside.

People tried to set up comfortable areas with a tiny touch of cheer while stuck down here for extended periods.

Imagine running down these steps toward safety when the air raid sirens went off. Eventually people just planned for it and came down here to sleep every night instead of running from home in the dark if they were awakened by sirens in the middle of the night. 

Another corridor, lined with bunk beds.