August 22, 2011
Hiding in Cornwall.
The woman walking her dog called out "Com-mon Josey. Come! Naughty Dog!" as the curious overly friendly black Labrador sniffed at my tent and then put her wet mussel up to my hands. I petted her and she looked up at me. "Joos-sey comma-along now!", her master called out more insistently. The dog glanced back through the corner of her eyes and with a wag of the tail looked up again with an urgent look in her eyes before swinging around and bounding back to her master. "Mornin! Nice morning." the woman called over before strolling on along the forest road, Josey springing along behind with her proud tail raised, her sensitive mussel to the path and slobbery tongue hung out laughing as if to say funny goings on. I can't but understand why he camped there for.
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Early sea mist was burned off by brilliant morning sunshine bursting radiantly through the young pine trees on the way out along the forest road to rejoin the quiet road I'd come on so far. Long shadows were cast across the narrow little used country lane the width of a car between grassy banks.........
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.........which eventually led over a cattle-grid out upon a large unfenced open area, grass kept short by grazing sheep, and a little further along I saw ramshackle old airfield buildings and then an overgrown concrete landing stripe.
I thought that it was still the three (NCN) cycle route but, I most have missed a turning when descending down to a village where failing to see a three (NCN) sign onwards, I'd to join a shoulderless A road with it's steady flow of cars and commercial vehicles passing frighteningly close until I reached the next village, Camelford where, I turned off onto a B road thinking it would be quieter, but it happened to be the main route from this direction to a town called Bodmin and so was little better. I stopped in a lay-by and sat down to eat chocolate and drink coke. A man out running runs over and stops and asks while getting his breath back.
"Are you broken down? I've got tools back at the house."
"No no, just stopped for a break" I reply.
I told him about where Is cycling to when he asked and when I said I wouldn't be cycling to LANDS END he said,
"LANDS END! There's nothing that way. It's a dump! A right sh_thole."
He went on to tell me his name was Allan and he and his wife moved down here from London after they retired a few years ago but now he was fed up with it as it's too far away from everywhere he maintained. He then said,
"It's full of reprobates. They move down here from London because they can hide here. You see there's no jobs here so they can go on claiming unemployment benefit without any danger of the dole sending them to a job."
A few miles before Bodmin I rediscovered the three (NCN) route which at this point becomes "The Camel Way" cyceway along a disused railway line.
I cycled past old station platforms along a well kept path through a leafy wooded gorge. There were all types of people cycling, young couples, whole families and pensioners. It was very encouraging to see, people from seven to over seventy all enjoying cycling on a fine Summer's day. I didn't have much of a clue where it led to but after seven miles it came out at a car park with a town ahead nestled amongst round hills. The town when I got there was full of holiday makers and as it was in the wrong direction for Plymouth which I hope to reach tomorrow, I retraced my way back towards Bodmin where on the way I stopped at a picnic table to lunch.
In the afternoon past Bodmin, I followed the cycle route via narrow country lanes enclosed by high overhanging hedgerows south and then east to where I've stopped this evening, stealth camping in a farmer's field with a view along the headlands and cove indented English Channel Coast.
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