Day 10: UK, Gorran

It was a day for a late lie in this morning as we were awoken by the gentle squeak of feet in wet crocks and a parade of retirees in dressing gowns, returning to their caravans & motorhomes afer their visits to the ablution blocks, towels flung nonchalantly over shoulders.

We dressed at leisure and slowly mooched over to Beth & Lee’s spot with our 2nd cup of coffee and proceeded to sit on the grass in the sun till lunch time chatting. Reason to travel #10

As the weather closed in in the afternoon, we decided to head down to Caerhays Beach for a walk and a possible cream tea. Turns out vegan lemon cake or dry lemon drizzle were on offer to us as a captive audience. The tea in takeaway cups was rather nice though.

The tide was out so we were able to have a fairly long walk out to the sea across the silky beach sand.

The stream running across the beach and into the sea was bone achingly cold (so cold your ankles got an ice cream headache!) but, by contrast, the sea water rather warm. When I say warm, it’s relative.  But at about 17 or 18degC, pretty fresh but totally within the realms of swimming temperature.  I hasten to add, we did not cast ourselves into the the water to swim but sensibly opted instead to take off our shoes and socks, roll up our trousers and to do as all Englishmen have done for millenia, and plodge.

The stunning rock formations that make up the coast of Cornwall, I read in Wikipedia, is predominantly Devonian slate and the formations are really interesting – high piles of massive rock where layer upon layer had rested on one another for time immemorial, under massive and incomprehensible pressure pushed upwards and outwards and then eroded away by the invisible forces of sea water at the bottom to form caves and grottos.  And massive fields of baby mussels on the rocks, just too small to eat but perfectly formed. With bladder wrack and sea lettuce clinging to rocks.  All edible but as the tide had been out for a while, was all looking a bit wilted, so everything stayed right where it was.

It was time to return to the campsite, so after foraging a load of wild blackberries growing right next to the beach, we made our way back to the car and drove back.

And as we walked slowly back to Kaya passed our neighbouring caravans &  motorhomes, we were pondering on the things we don’t quite understand about camp life:

1) Wildly abandoned illuminations of awnings, tents, caravans, motorhomes or any inanimate object (Note: How long does this take to set up and pack away? Do they need to add in an extra day either side of their holiday?)

2) The wearing of crocs

3) The addendum to 2, wearing of squeaky, wet crocs

4) Walking around the campsite in a onesie

5) Addendum to 4, onesie and squeaky, wet crocs

6) Walking around a campsite in a dressing gown with the option of wearing squeaky, wet crocs

7) Walking around a campsite with a beer belly and a towel tucked strategically underneath “please don’t fall off, please don’t fall off!”

8) All of the above during daylight hours

Answers on postcards please!

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