But first, back to yesterday evening. I was sitting on the bed before dinner when I heard what sounded like a band. Someone's got their TV turned on high, I thought... because they can't be outside, can they? But, just to be sure, I opened the window... and they were indeed outside. We went down to dinner, and there, nicely arrayed in front of the sea wall, was a brass band playing very well. In fact, amazingly well, considering that there was a Force 6 gale blowing. And they had an audience! Albeit an audience sitting in cars with their windows down halfway, and who, when applause was due, honked their horns. I said to our French and German friends: very English. Synonymous for insane, you know.
Dinner was acceptable... not great, but that didn't matter much because I wasn't hungry -- that cream tea at the Stoke-Barton tearoom was far from digested. And it was pretty cheap. We were all back in our rooms by about 9:30.
All night long the winds moaned and the surf pounded, so I wasn't too surprised when I looked out the following morning to see... pounding surf and powerful winds (but no rain). The weather forecast for Northern Ireland and England sounded like a hurricane -- 90 mile per hour winds (150kph) and torrential rain -- but the southwest, although affected by the same system, wasn't anywhere near as bad.
So, after breakfast we went outside to measure people's appetite for hiking. Lidia, feeling something in her chest, decided on the spot to take a taxi. Francoise made it to the first exposed spot before the wind took her breath away and she also turned back to go with Lidia. The other four of us pushed on.
It was pretty impressive. The wind was mostly from in front of us or onshore -- fortunately -- so it didn't feel unsafe. But we were pushed all over the place, at times staggering like drunks so strong it was.
The day before Suzi had complained of not enough pauses for rest and refreshment, so when we came to a picnic table on an exposed headland I made sure to call a halt. But as we were sitting around the table, holding on to avoid being blown off our benches, she said that she wanted to go on. There's just no pleasing some people....
After about three hours, and just after we crossed the border from Devon into Cornwall, it started to rain. Not particularly hard, but enough to break out the rain gear. Given the wind I put on a rain jacket, but all Thomas had was a poncho (some idiot had suggested to him that this is what he should take :-) and it whipped around like an epileptic on speed alternately blinding him and catching the wind to make him even more unstable. At about the same time the frequency and steepness of the ups and downs suddenly increased... and after an hour or so of this Suzi announced that she had had enough (with the implication being that I should do something about this... a task at which I failed, miserably).
Shortly thereafter we (Jean-Paul and I) lost track of them (Thomas and Suzi) when they took off along a track they thought we might have gone along....
Yes, a fine time was had by all.
Still, we got to Morwenstowe more or less in the time expected, to find Lidia and Francoise ensconced in the 800 year old Bush Inn. As those of us not staying there walked towards our B&B a taxi drove up... and out popped Russell, fresh from 26 hours of travel from Salt Lake City. The B&B (The Old Vicarage) was very nice, and those of us who were cold and wet took satisfyingly hot showers. The friendly owner agreed to do a batch of laundry for me. Russ and I played a game of snooker (possibly the lowest scoring one in the history of the game). And then we went back to the Bush Inn and had an excellent dinner with much merriment in three languages.
Yes, a fine time was had by all.
