Plymouth has a very rich history. It is on the south coast of Devon between the
mouths of two rivers – the Plym and the Tamar. To get from Cornwall to Plymouth
yesterday I had to cross the impressive
Tamar Bridge to reach the station in time to meet Ros.
In 1620 the Pilgrim Fathers left Plymouth for America, and
the photo of Ros between the pillars on the dock in yesterday’s blog are the
steps they descended as they boarded the Mayflower. It has always been an important port both for passengers
and trade, particularly the export of copper, lime, arsenic, tin and china clay
from Cornwall.
It was also a hugely important naval base and ship
building town going back to Francis Drake, who was town mayor in 1581 and 1593.
According to hearsay and popular legend, he insisted on completing his game of
bowls on The Hoe before going off to rout the Spanish Armada. Ros my dear sailing friend says he could have
afforded to do that as he had to wait for the tide to turn.
Because of its naval importance, in World War 2 Plymouth was particularly targeted by the German
Luftwaffe in a series of series of 59 bombing raids. Must have been terrifying
for the residents and surprising that any building are left at all let alone
buildings of note. Much of the original town was destroyed.
The day started well. We were lodged in a guesthouse near
the Barbican and had an excellent breakfast. The landlady was fascinated by my
trip and made several suggestions for a must see must do:
- The Barbican and the Hoe
- Via Ferry from the Barbican to Royal William Yard – old naval administrative centre of Plymouth
- Second ferry to Mount Egdcumbe to visit the stately home there with lovely grounds, museum and orangery
- Tavistock in the afternoon
Plymouth has the National marine Aquarium at the
Barbican. It is probably wonderful but quite expensive and we
decided not to splash out on visiting it. Instead we sauntered into the shop to pass the time
and look at the fishy motif souvenirs.
How lovely. Then I saw another and went to look at that.
Meanwhile Ros had no idea where I had disappeared and
came searching for me.
By now I was on tank three when I realised to my horror I
was in the actual aquarium and there were no taster tanks! I had gone in
through the exit. No-one had stopped me, staff had not challenged me and now
both Ros and I were being dragged along in the hectic wake of about 120 teenagers
and their teachers on a workshop day out in the place. Definitely echoes here of my being swept up by the French
coach party being mistaken for a French woman and being bought a ticket to the
Clan MacDonald exhibition on Skye!
Ros was very sang froid about it as a year previously she
and her friend had bought year passes to the same aquarium. Thank goodness! If
challenged we had passes for two people – not here admittedly, but at least she
had them.
The National Marine aquarium was built on reclaimed land
in the city and apart from being a tourist attraction, it also promotes research
and education. Hence the teenagers
trialling an educational day long workshop. We had now missed the second ferry and a passerby
suggested it was only a walk of twenty minutes to the second ferry so why wait?
We could be at the second one even
before the first one arrived. Good thinking - so we set off along the seafront. Ros is one for frequent coffee stops so after
about nine minutes walking, past the lighthouse on the Hoe
Coffee was calling her and we stopped in a beachfront
cafe and had a coffee before continuing.
The night before we had noticed a building close to the sea
that looked as though it was being demolished. We had to stop again to watch in
fascination as a crane delicately as a fish, nibbled at the top and side of the
skyscraper hotel while a man on a sort
of fireman’s ladder, hosed down the
crane to prevent the heat of the action starting a fire.
So our "just twenty minutes" stretched to almost an hour
and a half by the time we arrived at The Royal William yards impressive
Georgian buildings still home to modern naval barracks and administration. It is also becoming a visitor spot with cafes
and galleries but we had no time to browse.
The Cremell Ferry to take us to Mount Egdcumbe was ready
and waiting to depart all the way back into Cornwall. It took less that ten
minutes.
Mount Edgcumbe is an ideal wedding venue folks. It’s
beautiful. It has beach, rolling lawns, castle ruins and a stately pile all in one place. Great for photo
opportunities.
It was built in the 1500’s and was home to the Earls of
Mount Edgcumbe. Although it was tudor,
it was so badly damaged in the War, that when it was rebuilt the inside is
totally post war in design.
However, if we were to go to Tavistock before dark, we
did not have time to saunter.
Luckily, a chap in a golfing buggy offered us a lift
through the grounds to the top of the hill for a charity donation of 50p. We
took it.
We did have time for lunch – just – in the stables cafe,
while trying to see how far Tavistock might be from our current location. It
was very windy – not really conducive to eating outdoors or map reading!
The rest of the day was like a speeded up movie. Back on the ferry, onto a bus back towards the Barbican. Then to where we had left Gloria, and scooting
through the late afternoon traffic down the A368 and towards Tavistock.
Why?
The oldest medieval pannier market in the UK. What? All the way to Tavistock to see an
indoor market? Apparently.
What else was in Tavistock? We had no idea but were about
to find out.
Tavistock is a market town in West Devon. It was about 16 miles from Plymouth. It is on the river Tavy (at which
we had thought to stop, find a pub and sip something delicious and cold - but we never found the river) and on the
edge of Dartmoor.
In 1105 King Henry I awarded the town a market charter. The market known as the Pannier Market is
still there.
We liked the market with its many stalls of ordinary everyday
essentials and its of variety of crafts
and crafting materials.
Obviously a crafty place – even this statue in the town
square had been knit -bombed!!
Failing to find the river, we made our way back to
Plymouth via a pub in Whitchurch where we did manage to find something cool and
delicious, and learned that the river had been behind a hotel in Tavistock all
the time.
Back in Plymouth and once more on the search for food
near the Barbican We fetched up at the same place as last night for good
food and convenience – The Glassblowers. I am aware that this blog makes it look as though
Plymouth is an olde worlde town with not a modern thoroughfare in sight. There
is in fact a large and bustling modern city centre – we just never went there.
Tomorrow we move on to another Mouth – Dartmouth.
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