Tag Archives: Polzeath

Oysters and Out

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Not everyone likes oysters. Common responses to questioning on the subject are ‘ugh’, ‘slimy’, ‘Yuk’ and so on. But I believe these are mostly people who haven’t tried them. There are also those who claim you must tip them down your throat without tasting them- which to my mind is sacrilege. I didn’t sample an oyster until I was in my fifties, considering it one of those activities that should be tried before I got much older. We were on the west coast of France, which could be considered oyster world and seemed like a great place to try. I was won over straight away. I love them. But they must not be cooked, or spiced, or covered in cheese, or drenched in anything but lemon juice and/or maybe vinaigrette.

Since that first go, I’ve rarely eaten oysters at home in the UK. But here in Polzeath, sitting in the Waterside cafe/bar, they are on offer. And I can’t pass up the opportunity. And they are completely delicious- soft and flavoursome. A great start to a meal!

While the Polzeath site has its drawbacks, like the strange showers that we had to pay for, it also has an abundance of friendly wildlife [a tame, young blackbird, the ubiquitous robin, bold rabbits everywhere] and is in a great position. Husband can stride off along the coast path and I can relax with a book in the sunshine. Having finally got the hang of my camera, he returns with some coastal shots- all very rugged.

But it’s time to move again and we’ve only a few days left before we must be back for appointments. We’re returning to Devon, to a farm site at Mortehoe on the north coast, near Woolacombe. I came many years ago. The bad news is that the weather is turning at last and as we drive through the narrow, pretty streets of Mortehoe, dark clouds are gathering. The site is large, with few tourers in. We can see right away that it’s going to be unmanageable for me to walk to the centre, where dining possibilities lie.

It begins to rain and becomes much cooler. We are, at least, not too far from the shower block so an early shower seems to make sense. By the time I emerge it’s raining in earnest and even in the short distance from the block to the van I get wet.

Before long, the rain has closed right in. The windows steam up and it becomes quite miserable. We’ll be catering for ourselves tonight and will have to prepare for a night in the van- which isn’t too much of a hardship as it’s cosy and comfortable and we have laptops and books to amuse us.

The real issue is that the site is booked for three nights. But there’s no sign of an improvement in the weather over the next few days. It’s disappointing, but it looks like we will have to bail out early. We’ll come back another time. And we’re not done with trips yet!

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Surfer Heaven

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Some years ago [well- quite a few years ago], Husband took to body-boarding. This was, in part, due to our living by the sea and a perfect, flat, surfy beach. He had wetsuits and all the paraphernalia. Someone asked me if I went out to watch him enjoying this activity, which I found profoundly amusing. [He certainly doesn’t sit and watch me gardening]. Anyway- this is all in the past now.

But my point is, much of Cornwall’s coast is famed for surfing. Indeed, Newquay is surf city and alive with night clubs and the rest, resulting in an altogether rowdy summer scene.

Polzeath, near Padstow, however, is a relatively quiet spot with a small beach, although still hosts crowds of everything surfy: tuition, board hire, wetsuit sales, wetsuit hire, outdoor showers, an explosion of pizza vans and kiosks and anything else surfers need. The small town is just about walkable for me- down through an adjacent site, along a lane and we’re there. Among the pizza places and board hire vans there are one or two useful outlets for us- a Spar supermarket offering most items and a lovely-looking bar/restaurant facing the beach.

To re-enter our site at this lower end, we have been given a fob. We set off [slowly in my case] down to the gate. At this point there are still a fair number of tourers and tents on our end of the site. I like to see tents on a site. We were tent campers for many years before we succumbed to vans and I missed it to begin with.

We’ve got down through the gate and have begun the descent through the steep chalet site on our way to look at the town and buy a few groceries when Husband realises he doesn’t have the key fob to get back. He turns back, leaving me sitting outside the chalet site’s posh reception building, which has a handy bench. While he’s gone [and he has to gain entry to our site by throwing himself on the mercy of a fellow-camper] a robin keeps me company, coming to stand between my feet and staring beseechingly up at me while I chat to him/her. I don’t have any tasty titbits so eventually the tiny bird leaves.

After quite some time, Husband returns, although he hasn’t found the key fob and had to go to our site’s reception for a new one. But we can continue down to Polzeath, where we go down to the beach and get a drink in a rustic bar nestled between wetsuits and pizzas. The beach is mostly obscured by parked cars and vans in a vast car park, but we check out the Waterfront bar and restaurant for another night and trek [and hobble] back to our site, secure at least that we can get back in.

In the van, I find myself staring at Husband. ‘What’s that in your pocket?’ I ask him and he puts his hand into his pocket to pull out the ‘lost’ key fob…

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com

Gorgeous- [so I hear]

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So, Husband descends into Lydford Gorge and I make a slow ascent back to the National Trust cafe, where I have my sights set on a cup of tea in the tiny cafe. Since uphill slopes are a little easier than descents or flat, I get back up without too many problems, although I’d have liked a rest on a handy bench, which was occupied by a father and sons having a pic-nic lunch.

Back in the cafe, there are no empty tables but I get to sit with two very charming ladies and have a very lengthy chat- principally about health issues [we have a lot in common!] but ranging over many subjects. Like me, one of the ladies is waiting for her husband to return from the gorge and I welcome the company and the chat.

They’ve only just left when Husband turns up and hands me the camera, eulogising over the delights of the waterfall, [The ‘Whitelady’ Waterfall]. I cast an eye on the photos. Hmm…He’s taken some interesting videos of his feet on the path and various other confusing scenes. But he has got one or two snaps of the falls. I realise I should have given him a tutorial on the camera before he went. Although, it is very simple to operate. Turns out he was pressing the video button, thinking it was the shutter.

Lydford Gorge has two entrances. One for the waterfall and another for ‘Devil’s Cauldron’. We’re due to leave the site at Lydford but can go to the Devil’s Cauldron entrance on our way to our next stop. It’s early and the car park is mercifully free of vehicles, so we can park up, Husband can hike down to the bottom of what is the steepest gorge in the South West of the UK and I can stay put, have a read or something in the comfort and shade of the van. He knows better this time and returns, delighted with what he’s seen. It’s a more difficult walk that the waterfall and just as well I made no attempt this time.

Onwards, then, to Polzeath, a coastal village in North Cornwall, near Padstow, which has achieved some fame and popularity because of the celebrity chef, Rick Stein, who has a fish restaurant there. But we’ve stayed just outside Padstow before and it’s great to visit somewhere new. The site at Polzeath is a long, sloping strip, it’s lower end adjoining another site of chalets, which must be walked through before accessing the beach. The touring part of the site is a bit of an add-on but has the advantage of being at the lower end and therefore nearer to the beach access and the small town. A disadvantage is that the shower block is dated and strange and showers are not free- requiring a 50 pence coin in a meter. This seems unfair on top of the site fee [not cheap]. Another odd thing is that in the ‘ladies’, the coin slot meter is inside one of the cubicles, so that someone wishing to use the other shower would have to wait until the coin-slot shower was empty before they could use it! How odd!

But here we are…

Photos courtesy of Husband!

Novels by Jane Deans [Grace]: The Year of Familiar Strangers and The Conways at Earthsend. Visit my website: janedeans.com