Bye bye Redruth and say hello to the hell that is the A30. Ah the joy of bumper to bumper traffic but at least I got to stare at the arse of an Audi A4 with its meaty exhausts. Once we hit the A39 – Atlantic highway – it was all uphill and twists and turns which must have been a joy for the cars stuck behind me. Our campsite ‘The Headlands’ was literally at the end of the road and I ended up in the far field as *adopts Matt Lucas voice* the only motorhome in the field and surrounded by loads of tents and aging hippies as I was roughing it for 3 days with no leccy. Up the road was Camelot – don’t wee yourself with excitement, it was the Camelot hotel
Bit cheesy maybe but it had stunning views of the sea and the castle ruins below. The dogs and I bravely ventured down the coastal path to the side of the hotel and out to the headland which was pretty amazing and so peaceful. I then dragged them down to the small cove where Merlin’s cave is and onto the rock strewn beach – very enchanting as we were the only ones there.
The way back to the main road was all uphill and my god what a hill, stopping briefly to take in the sunset over the castle.
I ended up with what at first sounded like the Swedish chef from the muppets camped next to me. Turned out they were German – 3 blokes, and all stark raving mad. Only in Cornwall.
Sat 6th August:-
I spent the morning checking out the shops in Tintagel village. Some good, some downright tacky and touristy. I bought the obligatory book on King Arthur and a rhubarb crumble ice cream (naughty) as I needed fuel to tackle the steep climb down to the castle. The 14th century Old Post Office was an interesting visit especially as a sign explained how ‘on the shelf’ came to be (my favourite saying).
Once I got down to the castle entrance there were an alarming amount of steps to climb to get to the ruins on the island. The coastguard helicopter did a fly past waving at all us tourists. I was quite taken aback by the stupendous views and the fact that someone once walked over the same slate as I was standing on but back in 1200 and god knows when. Down all of those steps and up more to the ruins on the mainland – phew, by now my leg muscles were screaming. I had to stop in the cafe for a cuppa to recuperate before attempting the uphill climb back to the campsite. Some cheeky bastard called the legend of King Arthur a ‘load of Victorian tosh’! How very dare he!
The Shetland pony foals in the field tried to eat my chicken bag and then ,my carrier bag!
I had time to recuperate before walking the dogs into the village for the Tintagel Carnival which oddly enough was due to start at 7pm. I sat with a lovely couple originally from Manchester who’d moved to the village 12 years previous. They made it sound idyllic. Apparently carnivals are always at night and no one rushes which explained why it didn’t start on time. It was brilliant – no lorry floats here, it was either cars pulling trailers or tractors pulling trailers. I loved it though Timmy wasn’t impressed with the marching bands and their drums.