Day 72: To Plymouth

My friend Ros, who was with me for a couple of days at the start of my trip, planned to join me in Plymouth for a couple of days too. No idea how we were going to fit any of her luggage into Gloria. Gloria was pretty full before I added souvenirs for the family, lots of craft beer, Morgans birthday present and a hundred brochures. Fortunately Ros is a sailor and used to cramped spaces. It would be lovely to see her again, and hopefully her journey from Wittersham in Kent to Plymouth wouldn’t be too disrupted by the madness that is currently Southern Railways. 

However her train was due to arrive at Plymouth railway station at 3.05pm so I had to get a shift on.

My mother loved Fowey and Polperro and Looe, so I planned to stop off at these villages on route traffic and time permitting.

Yesterday Mousehole and Marazion, also favourites were impossible as there was nowhere to park.  Today I am feeling grumpy as it appears more of the same. We are getting too close to the schools breaking up for the summer so I suspect everyone else is hitting the roads to get their holidays before the summertime price hike.

Fowey was very civilised. The town firmly suggested that visitors use the large car parks at the top of the town, and walk or use the regular small 16 seater courtesy buses to get to the centre. The town was one way, so you never had the altercations with cars going both ways on streets not designed for cars in the first place. 

I had forgotten what a charming place Fowey is.

Who could resist their aquarium offering?

Fowey was the home of the writer Daphne Du Maurier who wrote the famous Cornish inspired stories,  Jamaica Inn , Rebecca and My Cousin Rachel amongst others.

I wandered through the town for an hour or so, had a very late breakfast in a cafe and returned to the car to continue on my way.

When I began this trip in May the whole country was citrus yellow from rape seed. Today there was a noticeable change in the colours around me from the lemon yellow to the more mellow honey colour of the ripening wheat and barley

Spending time in Fowey meant I had run out of time to visit either Polperro or Looe but I needed to reach Plymouth in time to collect Ros.

I got there in plenty of time and found the railway station, but the car park wanted £6 for my 30 minute wait. I drove around until I found a car park nearby for a £1. At this end of my trip every £1 counts. Ros knows this coast well as a frequent yachtman, so also knew Plymouth.

We had a cuppa in the Sailing Club and then spent the afternoon in the Barbican and on the waterfront.

After an excellent supper in the Glassblowers, a very good restaurant in the Barbican, Ros took me to The Hoe where I was appalled to see the Royal naval War Memorial a massive edifice. 23,000 naval personal were commemorated. What a disgraceful waste of life! And that did not include 40,000 merchant navy men.

She showed me where the bomb damage in the last war had decimated the town and how they had rebuilt with wide avenues. The guildhall building was still intact. And although it was getting dark we did see two rather strange sheep on the forecourt.

Enough tonight. We are here are here all day tomorrow so let’s see what else Plymouth has to offer.

Did anyone mention gin?