Day 74: Salcombe and Dartford

More Devon Today.

Also trying to find an AirBnB in the Bournemouth Poole area for Day 75/76 is proving tricky. Either they had no vacancies or they were for group occupancy and ran into hundreds of pounds for one night. Never mind we will find somewhere suitable. Tonight at least, we are sorted staying on a small holding near Axminster.

But first of all the little town of Salcombe: the busy, crowded, Chelsea and Kensington-on-sea little town of Salcombe. Oh dear.

I thought it was sad enough in St. Ives but here was possibly worse. In Estate Agency windows it was hard to find anything for sale under £1.5million. A tiny 2 up and 2 down cottage in need of renovation was £480.000 In a part of the country where work is seasonal how was a local supposed to be able to buy? Quite simply they probably can’t. All we heard around us were ‘Hooray Henries’ and their Charlotte, Caroline and Emma wives braying about what a bore it was that they couldn’t park their 4x4 in the high street and had to use the car park like the rest of us. The clothes shops said it all really:  Musto, Joules, Cath Kidston, Crew..... there was even a boat park in the harbour for the rubber boat yacht tenders.

It was extremely pretty and there were flowers everywhere. Ros remembered it well as she did a lot of capsizing there when she was learning to sail in the early days of her yachting but she remembered it as it was then and not how it is now. 

Although it still has an active shell fishing industry, its main income is from tourism: leisure boating, paddle-boarding and kayaking. Salcombe has numerous regattas during the summer that must bring visitors in their droves. I wonder where they all park?  It also has wonderful walking routes as it is on the South West Coast path, something else Ros has done in the past.

Dartmouth was a much bigger town, lots of shops, narrow streets and the ubiquitous fudge.

This one is a franchise and we could see why it was popular. You could watch it being made on the premises.

Dartmouth lies at the mouth of the River Dart guarded by 600 year old Dartmouth Castle. Although it is a narrow estuary it is a deep one and well sheltered because of that very narrowness and the town has been home to the Royal Navy since the days of Edward III. 

It’s harbour has seen many famous departures from England from the Crusades to more recent times when the Americans left here for the d day landings in France during World War 2.

It still has a famous Naval college but today it welcomes tourists to enjoy the town, the countryside and the river. There are still a few old timbered buildings in the town.

We just caught sight of the Dartmouth stream train that takes travellers along the shoreline towards Totnes to visit the home of the crime writer Agatha Christie. The Greenway estate is where she lived and it is now managed by the National Trust and the easiest way to get to it is via the ferry from Dittisham. I would like to have done that too but once more we had to move onwards.

We should have found our AirBnB easily, and indeed to be fair to Unruly Sat Nav she did take us past it no less than four times! Trouble was our host, brand new to AirbnB assured us it was on the left hand side of the road and we could not miss it. Well you could miss it is you were travelling from any other direction! 

It was a lovely house where we had a self contained studio flat above a freestanding workshop with a wonderful view across their orchards and into a field where they kept. When we arrived our host was trying to dig out some moles and Ros revealed to my surprise that she was a bit of a Mole Whisperer. She suggested that he catch it, bonk it lightly on the nose and tell it firmly to go away and never come back.

It didn’t work. There were several fresh mole hills clearly in evidence on the grass the following morning. 

Day 26: Falkland and Lochleven

Interesting why people decide to host strangers in their homes through Airbnb.

Lorna Ross my host in Markinch has a real passion, and her guests are enabling her to fund it. Earlier this year, unable to stomach the news about the refugees pouring into Europe, and what she saw as total lack of understanding or compassion on the part of the current UK government, she decided to go to see for herself. With a small group of like-minded others, she went to Greece and became a volunteer helping other groups put up temporary shelters, cook and clean bedding in the camps. She is a confessed activist and puts her money where her mouth is. What she saw appalled her, and she is going back in three weeks for another three months to do whatever she can to make a personal contribution.

I asked her why so many young men are in the camps. She said most, as young as thirteen are being sent by families to prevent them being conscripted by ISIS to fight against their own people. She also said a huge number are professional people; doctors and lawyers in their own country, desperate to protect their children and their elderly. Makes you think.

Is it really nearly June? It feels like February today. Perth is only 30 miles away so having spent a very thought provoking morning with Lorna I decided to revisit Falkland and its Palace and I am so glad I did.

What a gem!! My favourite Scottish National Trust Property so far.

To see inside you will need to look at their website because no photos were allowed to be taken. It had wonderful wooden painted friezes, magnificent tapestries and four poster beds bug it also had modern photos and books because it is a home not just an ancient palace.

It was the favourite retreat of Scottish Kings and Queens since the 1100. - the Balmoral of its day. It has the oldest tennis court in the world.

The chapel Royal is a working Catholic chapel and may be the only Catholic Church owned by the Queen today.

There is an icon of a black Madonna in the chapel made by Polish soldiers stationed at Falkland during the Second World War. It's made out of tinned beef cans.

The grounds are beautiful.

They smelt wonderful as so much blossom was out.

There is a modern wrought iron gate into an old orchard where the Scottish National Trust has planted old Scottish varieties of fruit trees.

There is a wicker lady in the orchard as well as a willow labyrinth where adults are encouraged to walk in slow meditation and children to dance!

The village was very different on a weekday morning to how I found it a couple of evening ago. Lots of locals and tourists about today made it almost seem bustling. Falkland was the first place to be made a conservation area as it has no fewer than 28 listed buildings.

The Campbells is a good coffee shop with tasty food including an excellent gluten free menu.

I also noticed letters and numbers over the lintels on some of the old properties and someone told me they were marriage lintels. The letters are the initials of the couple and the date when they married.

On route to Perth Lorna had suggested I stop off at Loch Leven and look at the little island castle where Mary Queen of Scots had been kept prisoner for a year. She only escaped when Willie Douglas got all the guards so drunk no one noticed her getaway.

To get to the island required a boat

And Miriam , a medieval scholar who absolutely adores castles.

On the ten minute trip to the island she gave me a list of others in the area worth visiting. I made a note for my daughter Morgan who blogs on castles.

As with so many other tourist destinations on this journey this far, I was the only one. Miriam deposited me on the island and left.

It was a bit creepy to be honest, and blooming cold, and I hoped she would remember to come back and collect me.

She did, an hour later.

Tonight's stop is not actually in Perth but a village about 7 miles away -Forgandenny.

Day 25: Anstruther and St Andrews

An angel in red overalls revived my dead indicators in 45 seconds. No charge. The rumour spreading about me on social media through beloved daughter number two is untrue. I absolutely deny that I am self sabotaging in order to meet nice men!

The fixed car meant travelling along the Fife Coastal route towards St. Andrews. Signposting on the A911 kept indicating the location of Scotland's Secret Bunker. Well, it's not a secret now is it?

The tourist route is well marked. In places the only things separating me from the sea are golf courses. But then I am heading for St.Andrews after all.  Saw my first oil rigs.

Gloria and I meandered through little villages along roads bordered by stone walls and flower banks.

and lochs...

Colour washed cottages and small working harbours .

In Pittenween I found a place for lunch. Everywhere serves fish and chips,  or chips with fish so not surprisingly the landlord suggested... fish and chips - smoked fish - as something different.

Well it was certainly different. Smoked haddock in gluten free breadcrumb, processed peas and strangely limp brown stained chips.

Almost inedible but since he was drying glasses and smiling at me and watching every mouthful, I had no choice. I was saved by a pair of American tourists from North Carolina ordering take out Americanas. I secreted what was left in my serviette and pocketed it until I found a suitable bin.

No photo. I don't want to embarrass anyone.

Most of this route has sandy beaches, but those at Pittenween are more suited to ship wrecking than swimming.

Should have held on for lunch just a few minutes longer til I reached the bigger town of Anstruther, judging by the crowd of red braided blazered school children piling out of the chippy. Award winning chippy no less.

Oh well onwards to St Andrews which was worth the journey.

I met a Portuguese guy running the crystal shop and he gave me my must see must do and told me parking was free by the harbour.

The Cathedral ruins...

The castle...

Market Street, a wide shopping street with independent shops and smaller interesting a streets coming off it.

 Interesting very ancient buildings

And some very new ones...

Some things were to be expected...

Others less expected...

 

He sent me into the University to look at the ancient buildings and lovely grounds

 

Tea next at Gorgeous, a 40's retro cafe where they only took cash because it was 1940 and credit cards not yet invented.

Their specialty was fab scones made every day. The Prince of Cambridge scones are the best sellers with blueberry and white chocolate, named after Prince William as he went to University here.

Fun decor and the old fashioned radio broadcasting declarations of war by UK and USA governments interspersed by 1940 music.

They could even provide me with pear chocolate and walnut GF cake.

In the harbour, where I had left my car, was a historic boat and since it was going nowhere remotely seasick generating I went aboard to take a look.

 

Finally I could hardly leave St.Andrews without seeking out its famous golf course.

I even spotted a tractor hoovering up hundreds of practise balls at the end of the session.

Drove back to Markinch across country and barely saw another car.

Tomorrow I move on to Perth.