June 27, 2017
Penzance in the rain
Lizard Point & Porthleven
I opt for eggs Benedict for brekkie. Dave says the eggs look a bit hard. He has a full English.
As the post office is right across St Keverne’s market square, I pop in and send the sheet map back to the guy who lent it to us a few days ago. We then set off south-ish, under a grey sky in the general direction of Coverack, a small cove not too far away.
before we make it Ruby telephones to say they’ve checked out Coverack and there’s not much to see or do, so we ride on by the cul-de-sac road dropping to it, carrying on towards Lizard Point, telling Ruby we’ll see her down there.
It makes a change for the road to be pretty flat. It dips a little once we make a left off the B3293, which has a fair bit of traffic whizzing along it.
This side road is quiet and takes us through dinky Kuggar before joining the more or less straight A3083 that leads down to the southerly tip of England. Before getting to Lizard, we turn right to signposted Kynance, a beauty spot accessible by a small track.
The overcast sky threatens rain and spots come and go as we ride along a rough gravel path that curves to Kynance Cove. It’s a test and Debbie walks her bike.
We get to a cliff top and take in the view. Below is a cove and to the right, hidden, is a small beach with a couple of fisherman’s cottages. A few people the size of ants can be seen on the sand. The sea is a metallic blue under the cloudy sky. If the sun came out it’d be turquoise.
We ponder going down but it seems a trek and instead we decide to head back and see if we can spot Ruby.
Eventually Dave gets a phone signal and tells Ruby to head to Mullion Cove. It’s another dead end road.
Once off the B3083, a narrow road runs through the village of Mullion and then drops to the small harbor.
It feels like rain and spots fall on our arms.
The sturdy jetty sticks out and protects the bay of water. There’s a fishing boat moored to high wall. Apart from that, it is basically deserted.
Alan's van drops down the lane and stops where there's a humble café, but Ruby says they'll head off to the nearby town of Helston to check the place out.
We ride back up the lane behind them and at the top spot a craft center that incorporates a tea shop – Trenance Chocolate. They do cappuccinos and cream teas and that’s what we have, sat outside in the warm air - the rain holding off. Debbie buys a hand-knitted sweater for her boss’s granddaughter. It’s 15 quid.
The nearby gold club marks a point where we decide to get off the tarmac. I’d spotted a footpath on Google Maps and I ask for directions inside the clubhouse and a young helpful guy confirms it'll bypass a bit of the main road into Helston, but warns it’s quite rough.
He isn’t joking. We walk along a lot of it as it’s so rutted and sandy. It’s not far from the beach and soon we climb back up from sea level, along a narrow lane and I have to stop and pump up a slow puncture. Dave’s dinky pump isn’t very effective and it’s a matter of keeping our fingers crossed that the leak doesn’t get any worse.
It’s nice that the busy road into Helston has a cycle path next to it. There’s a lot of traffic. When we get near the center it’s nose to tail.
Ruby calls to say forget about the town as it’s nothing special and we agree to meet up at a camp site or somewhere in Porthleven. They say they’ll look for somewhere for the night. It seems like we’ll all be getting a B&B.
There’s a drop to the coast and we rendezvous in the dinky harbor just as rain starts to drift in off the sea. We then ride around looking for a room, but there are none available, so we keep riding westwards after having an ice cream, Hoping we can find a small place to stay, otherwise it seems the next place is Marazion, a dozen kilometers away.
Rain comes down as we ride along the narrow and traffic strewn A394. It’s just been resurfaced and chips are piled up near the verge, making us ride slightly in the flow of the cars whizzing by. We’re all wet. It’s horrible. My old cape is in the back of Alan’s red van.
I wait for Dave to catch up. He took a call from Ruby. She’s found a camp site with pods, but it seems we’ve already gone past it. I call her back, but the traffic is so noisy it’s hard to communicate. I shout we’ll keep going as the thought of riding back doesn’t appeal.
We pause at a petrol station and the helpful owner shows us a map and pinpoints where the camp site is, a way back and hard to navigate along small lanes. It’s a couple of miles away and he says they don’t have any food there. Then Alan arrives in the red van, so we agree to carry on to Marizion and get my my yellow cape from his vehicle and Dave says it smells like fish. Like me, it’s about 60 years old.
Ruby is by the side of the road in Marizon. She’s asked around and there are no rooms. We get the panniers out and put them on as we’ll need dry clothes once we stop. We’re completely soaked and look out at the enigmatic sight of St. Michael’s Mount and see the island surrounded by sea.
I stop and spend 20p to use an air hose at another petrol station. My tyre is pretty flat.
We’re close to Penzance and there should be rooms in the big resort. We stop and ask at a few places, but draw a blank. Eventually, at the far end of the seafront, we get lucky and find a family room in a hotel. It’s 112 quid without breakfast, but it’s dry and warm and we need to get changed and find something to eat.
As luck would have it, Ruby has found a hostel just up the street. It has a few bunks and a large bed in a family room. It’s half the price we pay.
Next to our hotel is a Thai place up a flight of stairs so we all end up in there. Dave and I drink Chang and say if it’s still raining in the morning we’ll knock the tour of the southwest on the head and make our way back to the car.
The forecast isn't too good and Alan's driving the van back north anyway. It seems the trip is over.
Today's ride: 70 km (43 miles)
Total: 285 km (177 miles)
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