After a week of strenuous enjoyment based near Marazion; today we were due to move on to our second site. First, though, I had to try and fix the sink waste pipe, one joint of which had somehow managed to become disconnected spewing dirty water into the under-sink cupboard. I was used to having to travel with a toolkit for good ol’ Freddie (our previous van) – I can’t remember a trip where nothing required attention – and, though I consequently habitually pack it, with our new van, I was hoping that it would be so much unnecessary ballast. Alas, not so. First, I had to fix a bathroom door hinge pin which insisted on dropping out regularly, now the sink waste needed taping together.
We took a morning opportunity to zoom off to show gratitude for Penzance McDonalds wi-fi by posting a couple more blog entries, before returning for a leisurely striking of camp. We’re pretty practiced at this routine but, because we couldn’t arrive at our next site before noon, we managed to spin out packing until 11:15 AM when we bad farewell to Kestal Farm and set sail for St. Agnes.
After a lengthy trip of 27 miles lasting all of 45 minutes, we pulled in to the Caravan Club site on the western slopes of St. Agnes Beacon. The site is magnificently situated with views west over Wheal Coates, across several bays and down the northern Cornish coast to St. Ives in the distance. Being on the slopes of the beacon, the price for this somewhat exposed but magnificent situation can be the wind. Today it was whistling across the beacon with a vengeance. ‘T is a good job that small and mighty Carol is responsible for internal tasks, otherwise she’d have slipped in to a quick Mary Poppins impression, disappeared over the beacon and be half way to Swansea, by now.
Fortunately, coming largely from the south, it is not a cold wind and, having survived setting up, we enjoyed a bracing walk of a mile or so across the beacon into St. Agnes itself to get provisions for our evening meal and some new flowers for Billy/Carol. We got lots of local produce and cut down on the food miles: Cornish beef, locally grown chard, Cornish blue cheese. However, after our return saunter back to Billy into the face wind, we noticed that the carnations we had bought were marked "product of Colombia". Watch out Holland! At least shipping food half way around the planet feeds people; can it really be necessary to ship pretty but essentially useless decoration so far?
Levelling the van in something approaching a gale was an "interesting" exercise; as Billy shook about in the gusty wind, the bubbles in the spirit level danced alarmingly. Even with the corner steadies down, we’re wallowing about a bit. I’ve never been sea-sick in a caravan before.
I think we’re level … but who knows?