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 32: Aberdeen

Steve,  who often kindly comments on my blog suggested that all this travelling, meeting new people and seeing so much, could be sensory overload.

Steve you are so right and today I had had enough.

Against my better judgement (and my intuition,) I went into Aberdeen. I intended to do what I usually do - park up in a residential area and walk around to get the feel of the place.

I drove around the residential areas, and either was so far away from the city I was almost back in the country, or it was metered parking with two hour maximum stay.

So a car park then. Aberdeen has lots of multi storey car parks but the city signage is appalling so I kept missing them and finding myself swept up in fast traffic heading back to the outskirts of town.

Eventually I got into one at Union Square, a large temple to Mammon in the centre.

It was a bit surreal as there was a sound loop going on in the car park: bird song, waterfalls and new age plinky plonk music played so softly it was almost subliminal. It was actually lovely. There is something similar at Amsterdam airport intended to calm the nervous flier. This probably was supposed to have much the same effect - hypnotise the shopper into parting with their money. You can tell that I am not a fan of shopping centres, far preferring independent shops on high streets, but I must say I was reluctantly impressed with this one. Every kind of food outlet, but in  proper restaurant units  rather than mass food halls feeding the population in public. I did like the free phone charging machines too.

There were high end shops as in recent years there has been lots of oil money coming into the city. Not right now though, as oil prices world wide have fallen and it has hit Aberdeen too. I saw lots of brand new office blocks just outside the city all empty.

Once I got out of the rarefied atmosphere of the shopping centre I tried to find some of the attractions on my list of 'must see must do'.

This church is now a cocktail bar which most people might have thought was rather cool! Shades of a black mass for me.

I also saw massive ships - Aberdeen is a major port

And a ferry going to the Scottish islands

but as a tourist on foot I found the city impenetrable. I couldn't even find the Old Town.

Feeling all I needed was to lie down in the car park and listen to the soothing sounds, I gave up and called it a day.

Even the cows in the fields on the way back to the farm I am staying in, were lying down and chilling.

Good idea. Thank you Steve!

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.