As usual, we'll start with last night, but that won't take long because after dinner I fell asleep almost instantly despite fairly loud live music being played in the bar directly underneath my bedroom. Breakfast this morning was excellent, and we set off under blue skies.
And what more is there to say that I haven't already said? It was a lovely hiking day along a lovely coast. The greenish-blue water looked Mediterranean (although the waves crashing against the rocks belied that impression somewhat), the wind was manageable, the sun just warm enough without being too warm, the hiking time (just over four hours) long enough to work up a good appetite (and work off breakfast!), but not too long so as to produce exhaustion... it was just a nice day.
We are staying the night in Port Isaac (from the Old Cornish 'Porth Issec', meaning Corn Port -- a major export in times past), which is a beautiful little fishing village -- still with a vibrant local community (as attested to by signs saying "Say No to Second Homes!", and the fact that the last time a local pub came up for sale it was bought in a flash by a group of locals for 400,000 pounds so as to avoid it falling into the hands of strangers).
Our hotel here dates from the 1500s and has a wonderful view of the just across the road harbor... which reminds me of something. If you want to see photos of the hike, you should "friend" Russell and Lidia on Facebook -- both of them have posted a fair number of photos there (and Russell continues to post them almost every day). If anyone needs their Facebook IDs or email addresses, just email me.
And speaking of Russell, we always knew he was gregarious with people... but today it became clear that this social touch also extends to animals. In fact, Russell is a cow whisperer! After ascent number 5 or 6 of I don't know how many but it was a lot (have I mentioned that the Coast Path delights in dropping down into and then climbing back out of valleys?), Russ and I were waiting for the others in a sheltered corner of the trail opposite a field with a herd of perhaps 40 young calves. Who, upon noticing us, came over. Russell plucked some clover and soon had them eating out of his hands... subsequently followed by them licking his fingers and elbows. Maybe it was just salt sweat, but personally I suspect a deeper affinity ;-).
Later on he was to demonstrate similar powers with a very free range chicken that we encountered walking along the cliff edge.
And I shouldn't forget to report on my own animagical persona: I am, according to Russell, the god of caterpillars. We come across many on the trail, as in literally on the trail and in danger of being trodden on, and if they are particularly large or colorful I stop to pick them up and place them out of harm's way. However, I can also be fickle -- nudging a caterpillar off a stone wall, for example -- for as the Lord giveth, so doth he taketh away. Not yet a jealous god though :-).
This evening there apparently will be another outside concert, given by a group called The Fisherman's Friends, who have, I am told, achieved some significant degree of fame recently. They are either going to sing directly opposite our hotel on the boat slipway, or out in the bay on sand that is currently underwater (but one hopes will not be by the time they start at 8:30 this evening). The forecast is for windy showers, but I doubt that'll deter either performers or audience. It is England, after all.
