Monthly Archives: September 2015

Today dawned cloudy and cool which just cried out for a full yoga practice before dragging Frank out of bed for today’s adventures. We had toyed with lots of potential itineraries but decided that since the weather wasn’t really conducive to going to the beach, we would be happy with going to the beach towns.  Bacon sandwiches for breakfast and we hit the road and headed north.

First stop Shaldon – described by some as a drinking town with a fishing problem.  We wandered through “Smuggler’s Tunnel” (the remnants of an old lime kiln) to get to Ness Beach.  The dark red sand was obviously from the cliffs that towered over the beach.  We wandered through the village, past the bowling green (which would be a recurring theme throughout the day)  and decided to get a coffee at a harbor side cafe.

Fully caffeinated, we moved up the coast to Teignmouth where the day’s shopping was in full swing.  We wandered around the town popping into the various shops in search of a few items: a new blue scarf and a plain cardigan.  For once I feel I may have under packed slightly – I was daft and only brought one fleece and none of the scarfs are actually helpful in a chilly breeze.  So to the charity shops we went.  And we were very successful!  I got both a blue and a deep wine scarf (£3 each).  A few shops later,£3 got me a lovely tan cardigan. (Insert old lady joke here!) While wandering, we happened into a custom shoe shop.  We had seen one yesterday in Totnes as well but didn’t really consider any of their goods.  This one had the coolest purple boots in the window so I *had* to go in.  And while I didn’t seriously consider the boots, there were several pairs of shoes that were very seriously doable… and on sale… and one was my size… and my orthotics fit… It didn’t take much for me to walk out of there with grey hand made shoes that were SOOOO comfortable that I forgot I was wearing new shoes.  So much fun!

Once we had exhausted our entertainment options in Teignmouth, we headed south to Brixham where we had seen some entertaining pirate-themed touristy stuff a few days ago.  We parked and wandered and found that there was a full size replica of a 16th century galleon originally sailed by Sir Francis Drake.  The replica has been in the harbor since 1969 and the pirate themed stuff that surrounds it is ever so entertaining.  Picture a plethora of aging Jack Sparrow wannabes….

But the real purpose for our stopping in this particular town at lunchtime was that I had read about another chippy that did gluten free fish and chips.  David’s was a normal looking fish and chips take away that just so happened to have a dedicated friar and even sold GF maltish vinegar.  So fish suppers we had for lunch and we sat on the stoop outside the shop enjoying the fish and the sunshine.

After we tired of the pirates, we headed to a quintessentially British seaside area in Paighton called Preston Beach where the beach front is lined with lined with colorful little beach huts.  I don’t know who owns them or how they are allotted but there were several people sitting outside theirs while we were there and they seem like small cabins for changing, storing beach chairs and the like, and in some cases preparing food and drink.  At least one we saw had a propane burner with a kettle on it….

And then it was time to head to the queen of the south Devon coast – Torquay.  Frank’s aunt and uncle have been coming to this part of the country, and I believe this town, on holiday for years and it was time for us to explore there as well. Of course, I had an ulterior motive… One of the stereotypical things to do in Cornwall or Devon is to have a cream tea.  This usually consists of several scones, jam and clotted cream .  Not necessarily something that celiacs can enjoy easily but I had read a blog post about The Singing Kettle that did gluten free cream teas and so we had a destination! Now to be fair, I had seen several other cafes in the last two days that had advertised that they did gluten free cream teas but the timing wasn’t right.  Today it was: it had been several hours since our fried lunch and would be several more before our pseudo-home cooked dinner so it was time for tea.  And it was fabulous!  I wish I had known when they asked if we wanted extra butter that they meant it to be *in* the clotted cream – it made it unbelievably rich but nonetheless delicious. I haven’t had a decent scone for 7 years until today….

We did another wander around another town but having no new quest, it wasn’t as much fun and we were getting tired.  We explored a bit to find a shop that had the few things we needed for dinner and then it was back to the flat for tatties and mince and packing.  Tomorrow we start the trek north.

Today’s numbers:

• Towns visited: 5
• Amount of alcohol consumed during meals out: 0
• Amount of fat consumed during meals out: uncountable
• Number of steps (all along various high streets): 21,674 (9.34 miles)

(Apologies for ending a title in a preposition.)

We managed to sleep in a bit and awoke to more brilliant sunshine. Another lovely fry up for breakfast – including tomatoes from the owner’s greenhouse! – and we hit the road.  The general plan was to hike on Dartmoor in the morning and then wander around Brixham, a little seaside town that looked very interesting when we had a quick drive through yesterday. We did some quick searches on line last night and found out that there was a waterfall on the moor so that was where we headed.

I should have known when I found a tourist brochure for Becky Falls in the flat and it showed were the ice cream stand and gift shop were.  But alas, the alarm bells didn’t go off until 40 minutes later when we were about to pull into the car park and saw the sign board saying that entrance would be £7.95 PER PERSON.  There are 954 square kilometers (~368 square miles) of moorland and for this small patch they were going to charge us stupid money to see the water running down the rocks.  Nope, I wasn’t having any of that. It wasn’t the amount, it was the principle of the things.  If it was a charge by the National Trust or the park service that would go toward maintaining the land, that would be one thing but this was not that.  I’m all for capitalism but I don’t have to support all private enterprise.

So we turned around and drove back the way we had come.  Frank turned sharply into an barely identifiable car park at the foot of a huge hill which was part of the national park and didn’t cost anything.  And the boots went on and the walk was underway.  Some people who have hiked with me in the past will know that for me the only direction to go is up, and so that’s what we did.  There were no trail markers or hand rails, no ice cream stands or souvenir shops; just a vast expanse of land, some tractor lanes and horse trails, boggy bits, scree and wildflowers.  And after half an hour’s climb, the view was spectacular.  Two old boys were up a the top with us and their radio controlled gliders and it was amazing to watch. It turns out that where we were hiking was one of Europe’s most important area of heathland that was nearly completely destroyed by fire in 1997.  We could see some places where there were remnants of fire but otherwise I didn’t notice anything.  Frank did notice the distinct lack of birds which is a known issue.  There also has not been a resurgence of the butterfly population yet either.

And then back down we went and on to an interim stop: Buckfast Abbey.  A working Benedictine monastery that was founded in the time of King Canute  (~1000 AD) and was closed during the monastic clearances in the time of Henry VIII and the reformation.  It was reopened and rebuilt in the early 20th century and the results are just beautiful. (BTW, the abbey cost nothing to get into although I would have gladly paid.  I did buy a guidebook and light a candle for my mom though).

We started heading for Brixham to grab some lunch but decided to stop half way at a little town called Totnes.  And that was all she wrote.  It’s yet another adorable little town with winding streets lined with shops and cafes.  We did a quick wander and wound up at The Wild Fig cafe where they had lots of gluten free options.  I had GF goat cheese and spinach quiche and Frank had ostrich and thyme pie.  Yup, ostrich.  And it was also gluten free.  While we were there we noticed that they sold wine from a local winery about 3 miles out of town.  Our chances of getting to the cute seaside town were waning faster by the minute.

We then decided to wander around town a bit to see what was up.  That’s when we noticed the plethora of pink hair, shaved heads, and orange dreads.  The smell of patchouli wafted from several shops and there was nothing but free trade coffee and organic produce to be found.  We had stumbled upon the Berkeley of Devon! I thought we had been really luck to find a cafe with gluten free options but they were everywhere – along with vegan ones, people always lump us together. All along the shopping street, one shop after another – if it wasn’t a fair trade coffee shop, it was an art gallery or a charity shop. It was so much fun! There was even a 15th century parish church (St. Mary’s) that is still in use today even with the stone screen across the altar.  The stained glass was quite a contrast the the more modern work we had seen at the Abbey.

Eventually the parking time was up but we had found a brochure for the local winery and had a new destination.  Sharpham winery and cheese makers – why not have a vineyard and a dairy farm?  We paid for the tour and tasting (£8.95 for a wander through the vineyards and tasting of 3 wines and two cheeses) which somehow also didn’t bother me like the waterfall entry fee.  It turns out that we were the only ones there for the 4pm tasting so we got all the attention we wanted.  The woman doing the tasting used to live in Virginia Beach so we could even discuss Virginia wines.  We got a history of the property and heard about what grapes grow well there (Madeleine Angevine) and which ones they struggle with (pinot noir).  None of wines were bad – and we’ve had BAD wines – and two of them appealed to us enough to buy a bottle. Then we wandered around in the vines and headed for home.

Well not exactly home.  We had decided to give the chef a break from heating up ready meals and eat at the stupidly adorable pub in the village. Maidencombe is not that big – I don’t think there is even a street light but there is a pub. The Thatched Tavern is at the bottom of a very steep hill on a road called Steep Hill (not making that up) and it has a lovely beer garden and restaurant and several things on the menu marked gluten free.  So we went out for a very nice dinner.  Frank was all about the mushrooms tonight having sautéed wild mushrooms with garlic on toast for a starter and mushroom and Stilton risotto for his main course.  I had the beetroot and horseradish soup (interesting) and Brixham crab thermadore for my main. All was very nice – including the deserts (honeycomb cheesecake that Frank said was awesome and my Eton mess. Look it up. 🙂 ) A wander down a bit farther brought us to the beach at high tide (remember, the sea is always down) where there were seals feeding in the cove.  But the wine and the wandering had taken their toll and it was time to head home.

Today’s numbers:

• Wine’s tasted: 5
• Charity shops browsed: 12 (no joke!)
• Cafe’s in Totnes advertising gluten free baked goods: 4
• Calories consumed: I don’t want to know
• Steps: 16, 282 (7.01) but no where near enough after that dinner!

And today we bid farewell to Cornwall.  We got a fairly early start and headed up the A30 toward Bodmin Moor – it was time for the hiking boots to come back out.  (Funny but the British don’t “hike”, they “walk”.  ) We had identified a walk on the southern part of the moor that started in the town of Minions.  Yes, that is the name of the town and has been for more than 400 years.  Nevertheless, they have capitalized on the fame from the little yellow ones.  We parked at a trail head for “the Hurlers” – a stone ring so named because legend had it that boys playing at hurling ( a game like field hockey) on a Sunday were punished by being turned to stone. We had purchased a guidebook with a “map” of a walk in it but decided to scrap that and just do what we do best – wander.  Across the moor, past large cattle, horses, and sheep (and around the droppings of large cattle, horses and sheep.) Our goal:  a big hunk of rocks (tor) at the edge of a quarry.

The Cheesewring is a rock formation at the top of Stowe’s Hill.  It was a fabulous scramble up the front of a large hill to get to the rock formation and the views across the moor were breathtaking. We clambered down the rocks and headed into town to the Cheesewring pub – the highest pub in Cornwall, BTW – for a lovely pub lunch and a wander through the village before hitting the road again.

We were bound for Torquay – or rather a village just north of it and our route took us through Plymouth.  Being from Massachusetts and having learned all about Plymouth Rock, I was curious to see why people had fled from here.  Granted, it was unlikely that I would discover that particular item in the hour we spent walking around but I could see why others might want to flee: it’s a particularly ugly town.  To be fair, it’s not Plymouth’s fault as the city was pretty much devastated during the Blitz. Unfortunately, the large concrete blocks that were put up in the downtown to replace whatever was there are pretty horrendous.  One item did stand out though:  St. Andrew’s church, now a minster, looked very much like an ancient cathedral.  We wandered through the building and learned that it too had been devastated in the war.  The building
was bombed so that all that was left was the outside walls.  Yet the rubble got cleared and the congregation met for several years in “the garden church” where greenery was placed inside the roofless shell and worship continued nonetheless. It took more than a decade to replace the roof and get the building back in order but what  a magnificent job they have done.

Having gotten my stained glass fix for the day, we wandered to the Hoe – a green space on the edge of the harbor – and along the waterfront itself. It had turned into another lovely day:  high 60’s, sunny and breezy (as opposed to blustery). But we needed to find our new home so we were off to Maidencomb.  We sped along some fairly decent A roads until we needed to turn off and face another set of frighteningly narrow and twisty lanes.  We eventually found the flat up an unmarked road which looked like an opening in a hedge but once we got to the house at the top of the lane, we were rewarded with very friendly “landlords”, an adorable house dog, and a view that is nothing short of spectacular.

Another hour or so spent finding our way around the coast and stopping at the shop for supplies and we were ready to have another gourmet (read: heated up ready meals with some fresh veg) meal with a bottle of beaujolais overlooking the spectacular view.

Today’s numbers:

• Miles covered: ~175 miles
• MPG:  48 – best so far
• Beach towns cruised through: 7
• Steps: 14, 370 (6.7 miles)