Our Trip To

DEVON 

(& CORNWALL)

October 19th - 24th 2007

October, 2007 - my girlfriend's mother attended an English language course in the town of Paignton, in Devonshire. We thought we'd go over over and visit her for a few days while she was there, and pursuaded her father that he should come along with us and visit the missus as well. This is our story...

How we got there: We flew from Prague to  Bournemouth, where we picked up our car...	...and then drove over to Torbay, where we met  up with Marie and stayed and went off on our day trips.

If you click on the pictures, you'll see a larger version. It'll open in a new window. You may have a bit of trouble with the new windows if you've got some kind od popup blocker on your browser. You'll need to disable it. With Internet Explorer, I think you'll see a bar at the top of the screen with a message that popups are blocked. Click on that and see what happens.

On our way.

Here we are, safely arrived in Bournemouth. The white building - a plywood pre-fab portable kind of thing - is the arrivals hall of the Bournemouth International Airport. After going through customs and picking up your bags, they dump you unceremoniously into the car park. Very different from most other international airports I have seen - and even municipal airports for that matter.

We picked up our rental car from Budget, not the Ford Fiesta I had booked, but this stinkin' little Fiat Punto. In fact, it wasn't actually so bad, but the gearshift was really loose and spongy, and I was constantly fighting to find the right gear. Sometimes the car won the battle, but usually I was victorious. The footwell was pretty cramped as well, and it took me a couple of days to master the ballet manoeuvres necessary to move my foot from the clutch to the foot rest next to it. When we returned the car, the Budget guy apologized and agreed that Fiats are famous for their undriveability.

And so we drove over to the town of Torquay, or, more generally, Torbay.  It's a bit like Miramichi in N.B. - it's one big (artificial) municipality composed of 3 or 4 smaller towns.  One of these is Torquay, home of Agatha Christie, where we had a B&B reserved. The next day we took a little tour of Torquay -

The beach (which is considerably more crowded in the summer months)

Some views of the marina and promenade...

This is a lift bridge (they said) between the marina and the harbour. Unfortunately, we didn't see how it works. I told Leni to go and push some buttons, but she didn't do it.

The main drag of Torquay. This area is called The English Riviera, and you can see that at one time, this was THE place to spend your holiday, but today everything seems a little bit old. They're doing a good job of keeping the buildings in good repair, but it's one of those places that aptly describe the phrase "faded glory".

 Another one of the towns that make up Torbay is Paignton, where Marie's school was located. Below are some shots of the main street of Paignton.

In the afternoon we took a little trip to Dartmoor National Park, were we walked up to the Canonteign Falls.    

It was a bit tropical in the glen, and there were lots of ferns. Some were fairly big.

On the way back we stopped at Buckfast Abbey, a Benedictine monastery which is still run by the Benedictines as a monastery.

The Abbey church.

The former mill. Now it houses the Produce Shop, selling wine, linen, jams, candles, etc. Everything here is made by hand in monasteries and convents across Europe.  Water still runs through the mill's flume, but it doesn't turn the wheel anymore. (Leni's apple didn't come from the shop - she'd brought it over with her).

Sunday we stopped in the town of Totnes, near Torbay. This is the main shopping street.

The 15th century Guilds' Hall; today it's part of the Town Council buildings.

The Guilds' Hall is guarded by this gargoyle on the church next door, St.Mary's.

Of course, when you're in England, one picture you have to get is the bright red phone box. But, as the little blue sign at the top shows, BT also provides email and texting services.

An Austin 8 in the carpark.

Totnes castle, built by the Normans in the 13th century.

Just outside of Totnes, you drive by this impressive railway viaduct. Good God, that's got to be a spooky thing at night.

Parked nearby was this little roadster, but I have no idea what make it is.

And out into the Devon countryside, where this is typical scenery. You would expect to see James Herriot walking by in his tweed jacket and mud-covered wellies.

Then we went through the Dartmoor National Park. Open wilderness, like Ireland's West, but instead of stone, everything is covered with grass and heather.

As in Ireland, there are lots of sheep everywhere...

...and quite a few wild ponies as well.

Oh yeah, the stone walls. They're everywhere here too.

A few more views of the moor...

If you want to see what's going on in Dartmoor right now, you can click on the picture or here to see their webcam.

And now we reach our goal for the day - Tintagel, home of King Arthur's Castle. The ruins of this castle are medieval, but legend says that the original castle on this headland was ruled by a Celtic chieften named Arthur, around whom the stories developed.

... and some more scenes of the north Cornish coast.

The mediaeval church of St. Materiana (built A.D. 1080 - 1150) at Tintagel.

Inside, the church is well restored, and there is this mediaeval font.

Back to Torbay again. Everywhere here there are scenic walking trails, and one leads from Torquay's beach around its rocky shore.

... Then we drove down to the town of Dartmouth, where, surprisingly enough, the Dart River empties into the Atlantic Ocean. At this point you'll find Dartmouth Castle, but it was closed when we arrived.

We also discovered that the road (the only road shown on our map) leading into the town was closed for repairs, so to get into the town, we took this ferry across the Dart -  a diesel powered sidewheeler. Cool. (Mind you, it wasn't cool waiting an hour to get onto the ferry).

But after we got townside, it was worth it. Darthmouth is a very pretty and well maintained town. But unfortunately, we didn't have much time there.

Our last day, we drove down to Plymouth, where I discovered how stupid I was (had been - I'm actually smarter. All my life, I had believed that Drake's Drum was in Plymouth, "hanging by the shore". After we arrived, I discovered that it was actually in Buckland Abbey, which is where Drake lived. I also learned - read the brochures that you pick up in the tourist office before you actually go to see something.

But in the town centre, we at least found this bronze copy of the Drum. I didn't bother trying to strike it, as it wasn't a real drum, and there were no Dons in sight anyway.

The Hoe "...Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay/And dreamin' all the time of Plymouth Hoe...", which is actually a large park on the headland, where Drake played a game of bowls while the Spanish Armada sailed by.

On the grass between the military monuments ,

this ancient signal tower

,

the newer lighthouse

,

and the Capt'n himself

,

Plymouth is still an active naval base, and there are lots of naval ships in the area, ready to drum anyone up the channel.

An interesting sculpture at the harbour. This was the last port that the Mayflower sailed from in 1620. She had originally departed from Southampton together with a smaller ship, the Speedwell, but Speedwell began to take on water, and so they put into Dartmouth Harbour for repairs. They left Dartmouth, but Speedwell continued to have problems with leakage, and they put into Plymouth. After repairs, they continued on again, but the Speedwell was forced to give up the journey, and the Mayflower sailed to the New World alone.

The actual terminal of Bournemouth Airport. You see this and you start to think, "Ok, that's a little better than those plywood portables we came in through. Inside you get the feeling you're in a bus station, and then...

...you go through customs into the departure lounge and you're back in the plywood portable. You get the feeling that you're at a ferry terminal rather than an international airport.

And here we are on our way home - you can tell because the plane is going in the opposite direction - 5 days and 648 mi. (1040 km) later.