Orright?

I have had a bit of a horror time with transport lately.  It all started when I flew from Nepal to England.  My second flight, from Dubai to Heathrow, started well … we taxied out to the runway ... oh, that was about it ... we stopped.  Sat there a while.  And longer.  Then we taxied back to the terminal.  Sat there.  Then they announced that someone had a medical emergency, and now they had to refuel (really????) and have a rest (????).  So we all waited in the plane for another hour until they were sufficiently fuelled and rested before taking off.  I watched The Father (I cried), Don (Bollywood … seen it before but it is Shahruhk Khan at his best) and then we landed at Heathrow.

So we were an hour late getting in which I thankful for since there was going to be a bit of a wait for my bus to Bath at 6:25 pm.  What I wasn’t aware of was that there was serious traffic congestion so my 6:25 bus turned into a 6:45 bus, then a 7:15 bus then a “Delayed, time to be confirmed” bus and finally a “Wait in lounge” bus.  I finally boarded well after 8pm so got into Bath very late.  Bugger it!  

Things I hadn’t realised … I arrived on a long weekend, Monday is a public holiday, there has been a pandemic (well, I knew this but hadn’t thought of the consequences), it's mid-term break (kids and families EVERYWHERE), there are transport strikes going on and Bath city council are silly.  Venturing out this morning I was amazed how many tourists were around – the crowds spilled over the pavements, walking in circles and stopping at inconvenient spots.  I was looking for the tourist information centre and then gave up on that and went to the bus station, then the train station, then the invisible information centre, then the bus station again … where I finally talked to a lovely driver who explained how I could get to Glastonbury on Monday. 

Back into the centre, I finally discovered what had happened to the information centre: they had closed it!  Why?  There are so many tourists here and no place to go and find maps and info etc.  The locals I spoke to were VERY ANGRY about it.  Evidently, there are people in blue walking around as info people but I have just walked around the city all day and I haven’t seen one!  A terrible cost-cutting decision!

I wandered and walked and explored the streets (I’ve been to all the tourist places already) and reconnected with the beauty of this city (if you can ignore the hordes of tourists).  I even rediscovered my cheese shop so had to go in and buy some amazing cheddar.  Unfortunately, my bread shop hasn’t survived the pandemic so I found a baguette in Sainsbury’s and then had to search out a knife.  After countless jokes (Who’s upset you? You’ll have to show some ID.  There's laws about people like you.) a nice man in the market sold me a steak knife (that’ll cut your bread for you, love) and even fashioned a cardboard sheath for it.

Aaahhh! Memories of Nepal.  I wonder if they had dahl bhat?

A new book, a bench, cheese baguette and a lovely sunny day … what more could I ask for?  Superglue and duct tape, of course.  My walking poles had been slightly damaged in the cargo hold so it was time to do a bit of maintenance.  

The next day, the weather was glorious – that beautiful, bright Spring light, warm but not hot.  Perfect for a walk.  I had my choice of two walks and chose the longer one, a 10.5 mile loop that ended up joining the last part of the Cotswald Way. I started walking at 9am and kept up a steady pace, even when the track climbed steeply.  Thank goodness for the All Trails app, otherwise I would have been lost countless times at the beginning.  I had excellent views of Bath, as well as some lovely rural vistas.  The birds were out and about, twitting around the brambles and hedges.  It was all very pleasant.  

Monday was a public holiday and it seemed like all of England was out and about in the beautiful sunny weather.  Off to the bus station where I had a bit of a wait for the bus to Wells.  But that was nothing compared to the big group of people waiting for the London/Heathrow bus which was cancelled!  Something’s happened to the public transport system since I was last here.  Back then (5 years ago), the buses were efficient and reliable.  Now?  Cancellations, changed times … I wrote a scathing review for National Express last night.  The bus to Wells went around and about, into little villages including Midsomer Norton where, much to my disappointment, I didn’t witness a single murder.  I reached Wells and was a bit sad that I wasn’t staying to look around.  There was the cathedral towering over the town and some rather lovely streets to explore but I had my big pack on and it is so cumbersome that the thought of lugging it around stopped me wandering.  Onto a new bus and into Glastonbury.

Really!?  Not the best name for a bakery.

The last time I was Glastonbury was 1988.  It’s changed!  If you like crystals and witches, Vikings and yoga, tarot cards and dream catchers, men dressed as wizards or bare-footed women in tie-dyed tshirts, ferals and druids, then come to Glastonbury.  Unfortunately, I’m not keen on any of the above although I was rather taken with the rather limber young man in the very short shorts gyrating with a hula hoop in the church graveyard.  I wanted to go again and see the ‘grave’ of King Arthur at the abbey but baulked at the 12 pound entry so wandered around and then found a coffee shop where I decided to organise my travel to St Austell in two days time.

Disaster!  There’s a train strike on Wednesday!  Of course there is!  This means that I can’t get there except by taking about 6 different buses, virtually returning to London to go to Cornwall.  Aaaahhhh!  However, the trains are running tomorrow so I organised to leave Glastonbury early and head straight to St Austell.  In a way I was glad to be leaving.  Glastonbury has become a parody of itself.  If you are interested in buying crap or eating, then I guess you would enjoy it but that’s not for me.  

My transport woes have sort of ceased (touch wood, fingers, eyes and toes crossed), with the train to Exeter only 20 minutes late … but what’s 20 minutes after the debacles of the previous days!  I sat in content on my slightly late train, watching the fields and villages whoosh by.  Into Exeter (late) and so I missed my connection, which was a blessing in disguise since the next train was direct rather than with a change in Plymouth.

More beautiful seaside scenes, fields, villages and then I was in St Austell.  I found my Airbnb and then went out to get provisions; an Aldi salad (dinner) and cheese and biscuits (tomorrow’s lunch), thenI found a pub and then had two lovely pints of Proper Job, brewed here in St Austell.  In the pub, I met some rather sozzled locals, Sean and Sandra, who pressed me to have the second pint and when I ho-hummed just went and bought me one anyway.  There was Mike, the retired railway engineer who told me all about the China Clay pits and Ray, the plastic Cockney (evidently that’s what they call people from Luton).  It was all rather fun although these are the second lot of people to talk about the disgraceful way we treat indigenous people in Australia.  Hmmm.  I’d be interested to know what their media sources are.

Orright?  I kept wondering if I was looking stressed, unwell or lost but I've come to realise that "Orright?" is the Cornish way of saying hello. 

Wednesday - I’ve had a rather lovely day, walking.  Julie (my Airbnb hostess) dropped me off at the Eden Project this morning, saving me a two mile walk.  I didn’t go in (33 pounds entry!) but instead walked off on the Clay Pits Trail which would take me to Wheal Martyn where there’s a museum about all this china clay.  It was a delightful walk, through some woods with the last of the bluebells poking through the bracken and lots of other flowers scattered around.  Then, out of the woods, I came across a surprising landscape.  Huge stepped pits surrounded by grey-white soil.  In the background towered an enormous pyramid of rock, a Cornish flag waving defiantly on top.  This was a skytip, a huge mullock heap formed when they were mining the china clay (kaolin).  It was an amazing site … I think because it was so out of place with the rolling hills and that it was so perfectly symmetrical.

I walked on to Wheal Martyn where I went through the museum and had a much needed coffee.  It was interesting to read about the different methods of mining the clay – originally, they aimed huge hoses at the rock wall (the china clay is decomposing granite) and would wash a slurry into channels, then settling ponds, finally scooping up the wet clay and drying it into bricks.  The mining is still going on but, of course, it is now all automated or uses huge equipment … a truck and bulldozer are much more efficient than hundreds of men with shovels and wheelbarrows.  However, according to a charming man I met today in the pub, it has caused St Austell to become famous for unemployment since many of the jobs are now gone and there isn’t any other industry to replace the china clay industry.

And this was evident when I walked down to St Austell’s centre – many shops were closed or empty and Poundland seemed to be doing the briskest trade of any.  I heard one man say to his daughter to get away from “them expensive things, we only got 2 pounds” when she was looking at some potato chips.  I walked for a couple of miles down to Charlestown and what a difference.  Tourists everywhere, pubs and cafes doing great business.  Charlestown (names after Charles Rashleigh, owner of the china clay pit) has a delightful little harbour, filled with moored big sailing boats and brave tourists jumping into the gentle swells of the harbour.  I stopped and had a pint and sat in the sun, soaking up the warmth.  The clouds and chill of this morning had disappeared and it was a delightful afternoon.

Old chutes for loading the china clay onto the boats.

Tomorrow I'll meet up with Liz and we'll head to Mevagissey.  Time to walk, everyone!  Orright?