LEJOG Day 7: Tregony to St Austell

Weather: Sunny with a cool headwind

Distance covered today: 16.6km ( 10.3 mi)

Last night's B&B: Lynwood House (£45)

% Complete: 6.5%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 7 (click!)

Change of plan!  I had a look at the weather forecast for tomorrow and it looked very wet. I had a word with my charming hostess, Abigail, and asked whether she would mind if I took advantage of today’s excellent weather, while the eyes of her gorgeous two year-old daughter, Megan, bore accusingly into me from her mother’s shoulder. She graciously agreed and half an hour later I was on the road again.

Of course, the reciprocal was to book an extra night in my next port of call, St Austell, and that proved more difficult.  My intended B&B was fully booked , but Ray offered to find someone else to put me up for the night, and as I write this from a pub in St Austell, accompanied by an interesting selection of drunks well into their daily routine at 15:30 in the afternoon, I am still waiting for Sheila to get back to me on the phone.

I was laser-guided to her address by an OS grid reference provided by Veronica as well as the satnav on my phone, but despite all my high tech, when I got there, no-one was in and I couldn’t even hear the fixed-line  phone ringing when I rang it. Hopefully, Sheila will eventually call me. Otherwise, I may well be joining my new friends here in the pub for the night before trying to find a homeless shelter!

I can’t help remarking on the difference I am feeling already as I encounter an urban environment. This is the first time since I started the walk that I have been in anything larger than a village, and although St Austell is hardly metropolitan, it is interesting how quickly a place feels impersonal as its population increases.  In the villages of West Cornwall, everyone I passed had a wave or a comment for me. Now, I am again invisible. In the west, everyone in the pub was included in the conversation. Here the groups are distinct and the drunks and I are excluded.  I have no doubt Sheila will turn out to be most hospitable, but I very much doubt that she will provide any of the care and attention I have experienced so far. I’ve a mind to turn round and head west again!

And while I’m on a rant, I feel the need to share my newly found techniques for remaining alive on a “B” road, as the approaching traffic attempts to annihilate me.  Firstly, I have some useful generalisations!  By far the friendliest and safest of oncoming vehicles are the very large lorries and farm vehicles. The drivers are seldom in a hurry, they always move over in good time, and return a wave of thanks with a big cheerful smile and a reciprocating wave.  Then come the younger ladies in their little saloons. They too seem unrushed and are equally ready to reciprocate my greeting.  At the other extreme are the businessmen in their sleek German status symbols (like mine!). They are often on the phone, going too fast and generally thinking about other things, but at least their vehicles are responsive and they do react. Unlike the young hotheads in their souped-up compacts with the aerofoil spoilers on the boot. They are lethal!!  But at least I can generally hear them in the next county and can take avoiding action in time!

The problem really manifests itself in the little queues of traffic that come towards me. There will be a slow and relaxed vehicle at the head of the queue, waving happily without a care. They sway out of the way, revealing behind them a car right on their tail, the driver of which is concentrating on oncoming traffic and ignoring nearside pedestrians! Suddenly he sees me as I enter his line of sight, and a panicky swerve is called for. The car on his tail precipitously follows his lead and the little snake of vehicles slithers past me, radiating venom.

The nature of these “B” roads is that there often is no margin at all. The edges of the road are steep Cornish walls so there is no escape route if a member of the snake turns out to be a homicidal youth in a hot Peugeot!   But I have discovered that there are always alternatives. Every now and then, there is a drain, or a tree, or some other refuge for the wary walker.  The key is to listen carefully!  A guttural exhaust in the distance and it’s off to that sewer just down there on the right at the double!! And so far I haven’t seen any bashed and broken rucksacks lying on the side of the road, so the risk must be manageable!

Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any other rucksacks at all!  This has surprised me. I expected that by now the road would be littered with elderly men giving expression to some sort of delayed mid-life crisis with a pack on their back. But no, not a soul!! Admittedly, most sensible sexagenarians will be walking the South West Coastal Path, not tramping the lanes of Cornwall.  I have no doubt that our paths will cross when we whip round the Severn estuary to set sail for Scotland!

Shortly after writing the preceding paragraphs, I left the pub to find Sheila. As I did so, an ice-cream van driven by a young girl drove around the corner. She gave me a big smile and a wave and was gone. Her van was called "Kelly's Rainbow". Somehow it made me feel really happy!  Maybe St Austell won't be so bad after all!  And Sheila was in....

The first dandelion seedhead of my spring!

 

 A perfect Cornish field with the margins alight with blossom

I've no idea what it is, but it is bursting into leaf, almost as I watch!

My first "A" road. Fortunately only for 100m or so!

Back in civilisation, I'm afraid....

Siderodium Floribundlia

Almost all Cornish bridges have this curious crenallated upper surface. I have no idea why!

 Curious name for a village. I wonder what it will do when it grows up?