It was dark, it was wet, it was time to leave Cornwall. Unfortunately, my schedule was all screwy because of my extra day in Tintagel so I decided a little cheating was in order. I jumped on an early morning train and hopped off at Exeter (yes, it is true - I lost a leg on the train) ready to recommence in Exeter where it was just as wet, but significantly lighter.
Exmouth; it has a great sense of humour.
I hit up the River Exe and made my way to Exmouth where Baiky and I found a dead tree. After a strange conversation with a local I followed the coast as closely as I could towards Sidmouth. Sidmouth was kinda cool. It is flanked by massive red cliffs and has a mad beachfront esplanade. I got the impression that is pretty much just hotels for tourists.
Cliffs and Esplanade, as promised!
Also, I entered Sidmouth through one of the steepest downhills I ever had the pleasure of not crashing my bike on, which, to my later despair means that I had an equally steep hill to climb afterwards. This was made slightly more difficult as by this time I had left the rain behind me and the sun was in full (British) force.
Jacob's Ladder at Sidmouth - I never quite figured out why Jacob had a ladder and what he climbed, but it was highly advertised.
I cruised my way through East Devon, a place any who has visited will tell you is insanely gorgeous. One of the many highlights was cycling up a tiny, tiny road with barely enough room for two cars to pass each otehr and coming across a bit of a traffic jam.
No photos of the cars, but here is a sweet photo of the cliffs.
A conservative estimate would be two to three miles of cars stuck end to end drivers peering ahead to determine the source of their angst. I effortlessly glided past the frustrated travellers on a bicycle powered solely by smugness curious as to what had casued this upheaval.
The top of the hill into Sidmouth - I risked my life multiple times taking this photo from the road.
I was finally greeted with not one, but two unfortunate tourists who had, from opposite directions, decided they were above obeying the (what turns out to be) quite informative road signs. You see, there had been all number of road signs quite clearly advising that cars with caravans should, perchance, seek alternative routes. These two unfortunates had met and were now attempting to extricate themselves from their predicament.
Vicarage - more on this later.
They could not go forward, as they could not squeeze past one another. They could not go backwards because there was literally miles of parked cars blocking the road. Oh the hilarity! I gave a cheerful wave and smugged my way on, past the ever increasing line of cars on the other side of the blocked road. As I neared the end of the conga of cars I did provide some advise some that it would be best to try another way. Many of those I passed were locals and they seemed somewhat chagrined that sightseers had blocked their path. Haha!
A cycle path to Beer! this is why cardrives had cyclists so much, they had to take the long way around in traffic while I get to drift towards a bevarage that is mysteriously signposted.
Any ways, before I knew it I found myself in Branscoombe, which I would have to say is the cutest location I have ever been to.
Church!
I took a photo of Baiky with a church, cruised down a another steep hill, stopped off at the local forge for a gander, and then went to the Bakery to buy some cake for Baiky.
Blacksmiths!
After ordering our cake I hitched a ride with a local tourist back up the hill, grabbed Baiky from where I had left him at the church, ran back down the hill, and then enjoyed some cake.
Cake!
Not long after, I found myself in Vicarage, which is probably the quaintest village I have ever seen, so I slogged up another steep hill to my campsite at Coombs View Farm, popped my tent, and then hiked back down to the local pub for a well earned beer (or five)!
Beer (in Vicarage)!
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