Veering Inland

I had hoped for a relaxing evening at the hostel, but got a boisterous pub-quizz night. I hoped for a good night of sleep on real mattress, and was instead awoken too many times by my room-mates.

The weather in the morning was in-line with my mood. It had been greying since yesterday, but this morning, it was positively morose. All day long, the sun would remain hidden behind the clouds.

I had arrived in Newquay from the landside, without ever seeing the coastline. I was surprised to see that the entire town was built atop a cliff, with steep steps carved I to the rock to access the beach at its foot.

I was even more surprised to see it was a surf town. I had seen a few surfers yesterday, but the placid sea had evoked “Brice de Nice” (a french movie about Brice — pronounced _Bryce_ — a surfer in Nice, waiting endlessly for his big wave).

The coastline was a succession of hills, in-between which lay small surfing beaches, and surf themed cafes. After a few beaches, they all started to look alike.

The monotony was quickly broken by the “Bedruthan Steps”, a beaitiful cliff and beach. The coastal path was barred by a “No Bicycles” sign, and, for once, I decided to heed it. I left my bicyle and followed the path for a few minutes to a lookout point.

On my way back, I saw a woman being escorted back onto the path by one of the members of staff. She had been sitting in the grass, closer to the cliff face. Too close apparently.

Somehow, we struck up a conversation, as we waited for the “Tea Room”. Suzanne, a Brazilian-American retiree, was on her to a women-only jiu-jitsu camp. We talked as we ate, and discussed our plans for the day.

As nice as it was to have some company, I needed to get back on the road. An hour later, I was in Padstow, another fishing village on the coast, and host to the “National Lobster Hatchery”, a conservation project aiming to increase the population of wild lobster.

Part of me wanted to stop to learn about lobster, but I was worried about leaving the bicyle unattended. Suddenly, I saw a sign advertising bicyle parking. Padstow is also the start of the “Camel Trail”, a bicyle path stretching 30 km inland, and tourists routinely cycle from one end to the other.

At the hatchery I learned many surprising facts about lobsters!

Aliens under the sea!

Did you know that their blood is copper-based (not iron-based like ours)?

That they can spontaneously amputate, and re-grow their own limbs? They don’t show signs of aging like humans, instead, they just grow older and older, molting when they out-grow their shell. We occasionally catch 100 year old lobsters!

Since in the water, taste and smell are blurred, they have taste-buds on parts of their legs, and their antennules (the shorter antennae).

Their large antennae are sensitive to vibration, allowing them to pick up sound waves in the water, and detect water movement. The distance between the tips of their antennae allows them to pinpoint the direction of a sound!

(they’re near sighted, use their large antennae to sense vibration in the water, and can regrow their limbs.

They also take up to 7 years to grow until they can reproduce, and female lobsters carry their eggs for 9 months!

After this scientific detour I was on the road again, leaving the coast behind, and following the River Camel. I was on a cycle path, far from cars, under the trees. I should have been enmjoying myself but I was bored. Time was passing by agonisingly slowly. At the end of the trail, in Bodmin, a town known for it’s prison (and the luxury hotel it now hosts), I stopped for a quick bite.

Leaving society behind

As I set off again, it started to drizzle.

I climbed higher and higher into Cornwall, and the landscape grew more and more barren. Sheep grazed the land, and the tallest plant only grew to knee height.

The further I went, the more isolated I felt. The wind picked up, sometimes pushing me along, sometimes holding me back, and the rain strengthened. I put on my raincoat. In the downhills I was chilly. On the uphills, I was sweltering, covered in sweat …