Fowey, Polperro and Looe

The Pentewan trail

Although my previous post was called St Austell,  I didn't actually go there.  It's a few miles inland, and Pentewan Sands is the nearest place.  Like Truro, it's a landmark in my journey  across Cornwall. 

The weather seems settled and fair at the moment - long may it last.  I left the campsite a bit late after sleeping in, and rode bright-eyed and bushy-tailed down the Pentewan Trail back to the beach, singing a happy song and idly wondering where the route would take me.  It was a pig of a hill leading out of the valley, colour coded black on the Garmin, which is not what you want to see before breakfast.  Or any time, actually. 

Leaving was such a wrench

Within a few miles I'd visited the little village of Porthpean, admired its gorgeous beach briefly, and moved on to Charlestown, which seems to be a heritage village with several old sailing ships in the harbour, a shipwreck museum and various other experiences, including a very pleasant breakfast.  Charlestown was the main port used to ship clay from the mines (or do you quarry clay?) in St Austell.

Charlestown 

Entering the parish of Carlyon Bay, I was suddenly in a different Cornwall.  Beach Drive was full of newly-built millionaire's houses, on a wide crescent overlooking the sparkling bay.  It was like Weybridge-on-Sea, with driving standards to match.  Whereas in the other Cornwall, drivers would wait forever before eventually passing very wide and slowly, this was the opposite.  Everybody was in a hurry.

 

I never saw the beach.  If you live in Carlyon Bay, you don't go to the beach.  It is sufficient that there is a beach.

On the plus side, there were several miles of flat road around Par, the next place, with a station and a huge clay processing plant.  My bike saw speeds in the teens, which was a nice change.  One last hill, and I arrived at Fowey, a traditional village built on the steep side of an estuary with extensive mooring.  It's a picturesque, well-to-do place, with an impenetrable maze of tiny steep roads and a one-way system that doesn't go anywhere useful.  I gave up and walked around, sightseeing, along with many other grockles.

Into Fowey

 

Fowey

The river Fowey quite an extensive deep water river estuary.  There's a port upstream used for shipping clay, and it's quite a ride round to the ferry at Bodinnick.  Having done this once at Falmouth, I elected to take the direct pedestrian ferry crossing to Polruan on the east bank.  Some helpful passengers loaded my panniers for me, without being asked.  They're like that round here.

View across to Polruan from Fowey

Leaving Fowey

 

The Fowey estuary

We had a family holiday in Polruan about 20 years ago, and so I remembered the hill out of town.  It's still there.  After the ascent, I was riding along the tops for several miles, before descending into Polperro, a long thin and pretty village in a very steep sided valley.  It was time for a cream tea, which was excellent.  Jam first, as they say in Cornwall!

Polperro 

After winching myself up the cliff out of Polperro, I briefly visited Porthallow beach, very picturesque from afar but only average as a beach; over the hill and descended relatively gently into Looe, which has the same set-up as Polperro but is completely different.    It has the long thin town in a steep-sided valley thing, but it'much bigger, a proper town, and has a sizeable port (Polperro just had a piddly stream and a small harbour).   There were traffic lights!  The first I've encountered since London.   

 

Looe

I was in a bind.  I'd had my fill of hills, but there's nowhere reasonable to stay in Looe.  I had my eye on a campsite near a pub in Downderry, 8 miles away, but it turned out to be a naturist campsite!  And anyway it was too far.  The other choices were nearer, but no pub, and I certainly didn't want to carry food up the very nasty hill out of Looe.

Resigned to going hungry, I climbed out of Looe, did another pointless down and up around a posh housing estate which never actually reached the beach (there were steps down the cliff), and then came across a little  Spar, where I had a lovely Audax style meal, hot steak slice, Belgian bun  and a coke, since you ask.  Phoned the campsite to book,  and after just one more down and up to Millendreath beach, found I was the only person in the campsite.  It was a farm on the top of a hill, with great views to the east, and a wonderful sunset behind the trees to the west.