Clearly Clovelly … Minus Most Of The Fog

When I left you yesterday, we were in stand of tall trees that I tend to think as Live Oak trees. John said this expression meant nothing to him except the obvious one of an oak tree that was living and not dead. After a little online research, I found that there is a tree in the American south that is called a Live Oak,’ but they tend to be shorter and the limbs grow out more to the sides instead of up like in the last photo you can see here in yesterday’s post.

Since we ended the post with a foggy shot of a sheltering tree, I thought we also should begin with one today. When I saw the tree in the photo above, I wondered out loud about the way it reminded me of weeping willow type of tree that looked as if someone had given it a haircut. John promptly said that he suspected cows were the culprit and they’d likely chewed up as high as their necks could stretch. If you have a different theory I’d love to hear it.

Walking on we reached our destination, the village of Clovelly. This privately owned fishing village has the steepest streets I think I’ve climbed since moving to the UK. There are no cars in Clovelly, you have to walk. People use sleds or sledges as they say here to drag their belongings up and down the 400′ foot cliff that provides a home for a small community of people.

You can see a red sled in this photo … it’s kind of small compared to most of the others we saw.

I thought it was pretty interesting that the Methodist Chapel was next door to the pub.

The chapel popped with color especially after seeing the mostly white walls of the buildings that led to the doorway.

A forgotten communion glass.

Remember what I said about 400′ down … this was taken only part way.

Wear sensible shoes when you visit Clovelly and watch your step.

I’m not sure how they get the sledges or sleds over these speed bumps, but they do.

After hiking out of Clovelly and pausing to catch our breath, we did something we rarely do on our coast path walks, we went back the same way we came.

These boys were were super friendly almost to the point of allowing a head rub before they turned skitish.

This shot was hidden in the fog on yesterday’s post and when we began our late afternoon walk back to the car, we discovered we could see Clovelly Court.

Remember the shelter where we had lunch … it was so foggy we could only hear the sea, but on the way back we could also see it as the fog was completely gone.

Angel Wings, our sandwich stop.

This one’s for perspective. This is more of what we couldn’t see on our walk to Clovelly earlier in the day.

The gorse was everywhere giving off a scent that made the air smell faintly of coconut and we had view so gorgeous it was difficult to move on.

This is one of my favorites and even though it’s still a bit foggy in the distance, I like the look of the rocky coast.

Dancing Ladies – Going Home

Most of us have signs or landmarks that remind us when we are almost home. For me, it is this stand of trees on a hill not far from the border where Devon becomes Cornwall. I call them The Dancing Ladies and they are always a sign that in just a few minutes everything that is troubling or tiring will be neatly put to rest as we turn off the main road and point our car towards the narrow lane that leads home.

We took my sister Margaret to the airport this morning with John driving just under 500 miles roundtrip and I was delighted to see my dancing ladies on our way back. Although it was not a short trip, it is nothing compared to one she has before her with several plane changes and a long layover in Germany before reaching Alaska.

My sister and her family recently moved to a new location having lived near Anchorage, Alaska for many years. There is a bridge you drive under as you get closer to her former home and people often hang signs of welcome from it painted on large sheets with brightly colored paint making it seem like a perfect landmark.

Although we did not talk about it, I feel sure that since moving a few months ago she has likely found something that signals her new home is close by and her daily journeys are at an end.

I don’t know what new images mark her way home now, but I imagine that nothing could whisper or shout ” You’re home ”  better than the welcoming sight of her husband and children who will be waiting at the airport. It is the first time Margaret has been away from her boys for more than a week and I think after a month here with me, they will be all the landmark she needs to feel welcomed and at home.

Going Solo – Road Tripping In Southwest England

Yesterday was a day of exploration for me. Since moving to Cornwall I’ve not had the same need to be in the drivers seat as I previously did in the US. This change in position from driver to passenger and the ease at which I made the transition surprised me having been somewhat controlling when it came to driving in the past.

My previous career in pharmaceutical sales kept me on the road daily for years and I’ve driven back and forth across the US and as far north and south as you can go on several occasions with all manner of short trips in between. I drove for a couple of years on the German autobahn with no set speed limits in my late teens and early twenties while stationed there during my army tour of duty.

Having been to the UK three times before meeting my husband John, I had a rental car each time where I was the designated driver. While much of that driving was limited to the wide open spaces of the western part of  Scotland, I did make the trip twice from Isle of Skye to a London airport covering a distance of 650 miles, all while sitting on would normally be the passenger’s side of the car, while driving on what would be considered the wrong side of the road in America.

And did I say, the car has a manual transmission as many do here and because I sit on the right side to drive, I have to shift with my left hand. It’s not as hard as I thought it might be, but you can see why I was content to enjoy the ride with John behind the wheel.

So you have to wonder with all of that driving experience, why make such a big to-do about yesterday’s excursion. My solo road trip was important because it was the first time since moving here that I drove alone and for such a long way. I’ve done a few trips alone of five miles or less and I know that thirty miles isn’t really that far, but this trip had me pointed in an unfamiliar direction as I made my way to a village in Devon to meet up with a new friend.

Armella, is an American who lives in St Louis with her British husband. Over the last few years she has done an amazing renovation on a property that she and her husband inherited from family. After finding me through an Expat Blog site, she sent an email a few months ago and yesterday, I fastened my seatbelt and went for a little ride … alone.

It was actually pretty easy once I got underway. I did make a wrong turn at one point, but followed my intuition until I found my way to the pretty little village where Armella and I met for lunch at the White Hart Inn and Pub. I also had a chance to see the work she’s had done on the property during a tour of the rental house before her new tenant moves in a few days.

I didn’t take any photographs of the rental property as there was scaffolding blocking much of it with work being done to an outside wall, but I do have one or two of Cardinal Kiss Cottage named for a love of the St Louis Cardinals, and the three x’s on the outside wall that offer additional wall support. After one of her renovation folks referred to the x’s as kisses, she decided kiss should be part of the new name.

Armella will be back and forth from the US to the UK for a while as she isn’t quite ready to retire to Devon yet, but after spending only a short while with her I could tell it’s only a matter of time before she’ll be one of my more permanent neighbors.

Cardinal Kiss Cottage (See the Church to the right)

Notice the river that runs past the cottage, you’d never guess that CKC was an abattoir before it became a holiday home for Armella and her husband.

The upstairs window in the bedroom.

The amazing view from the window above.

St Bridget’s Church Bridestowe

More From Dartmoor

The other day I gave you a little teaser when I talked about our big walk around Dartmoor.  So I took a break from sewing to pop a few pictures up today. I’ve been asked to post some pictures of my repurposing projects and I’m making good progress so look for a few photos towards the end of the week. Back to Dartmoor...

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The moor has a great deal of variety in the look.

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We passed a fair number of cyclists that day. Ray and Mij said they’d never seen so many on the path there before.

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Me eating my standard moorland meal of American peanut butter and English ginger jam.

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Ray and Mij having their lunch.

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Pausing for a hug.

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Checking the map just to be sure.

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A walk through the woods just before climbing through the rocks.

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Hill climbing past the moorland ponies.

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Classic English countryside…sheep and stone walls.

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Patchwork beauty.

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I love the lone tree in the curve of the tor. ( Tor – large hills with outcrops of bedrock)

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Pausing for me to catch up…I always lag behind taking pictures.

IMG_8330A long shot of the sea in the distance beyond the lake.

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Nightfall on the drive home.

Still Walking The Same Path

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In 1975, the two men in the center of this photograph met through a mountaineering club in the Midlands of England. That’s thirty-four years they have been camping, climbing, hiking and walking together. In case you don’t recognize my husband John from this picture taken after a trip to Nepal in 1982, he’s the second man from the right. Standing next to him on his right (wearing a vest), is his long time friend Ray.

John and I were walking on Dartmoor today with Ray and his girlfriend Mij. While we covered about nine miles, I was snapping away taking so many pictures I was frequently lagging behind the three of them. Not surprising to me, I seemed to catch most of my photographs of them from behind. It was an amazing walk and I’ll be back tomorrow with more pictures to share, but I wanted to post a couple of John and Ray from today… still walking the same path after all these years.

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A Friday Field Trip- Brownsham To Hartland Quay

I know I haven’t been around for the last couple of days, but we’ve had a visitor from London and have been out to the places everyone wants to see when they say they’re coming to see us. I put together a little photo tour to show you what we saw on our field trip.

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I have to have frequent stops to record images like this…

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or this…

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It’s difficult to get lost when there are signs along the way like this one.

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Sometimes you meet up with wooly animals like the one above.

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Dylan the dog, waits for his dog walkers.

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As I went to the edge for the shot, John snapped this one of me.

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Okay…I know this looks funny, but look at the view. I was taking a picture not a nap.

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This was not the only hill we climbed.

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We walked this valley. It reminded me of Scotland.

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Pheasant…we walked up them on and I got off a couple of shots. This was the best one.

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The two dark spots on the path are John and his eldest daughter.

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The yellow flowers are called Gorse…they grow everywhere and smell like coconut.

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The walk was well worth the dramatic views.

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More hills…

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and even more hills….

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Follow the arrow and go out about an inch and then down to see the woman swimming in the freezing cold water.

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See what I mean…

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If you look over to the far right, there is a wooden bench for watching the waves.

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John was walking past this remains of an old building when the moon came out.

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Elizabeth & John

We started our coast path walk at Brownsham and walked past Hartland Point where you can take a helicopter to Lundy, an island John loves to visit (we’re going in January ) and we finished at Hartland Quay.