Where did I leave you last? Right-- Friday. Mom and I took an early train to Penzance (pronounced Pen-ZANce) from Bath, and arrived around mid-day. It was a rather overcast, grey sort of day, but even still, the views from the train window and the taxi window as we drove to our B&B were gorgeous. A quick geographical orientation: Penzance is located in the area of Cornwall, which encompasses the southwestern-most tip of England (the little part that sticks out under Wales). Cornwall is known for its breathtaking ocean views, from sandy beaches to rocky cliffs (and sometimes, both at once!).
After checking in, we wandered into town in search of lunch. Naturally, we were on the lookout for pasties-- they were invented in Cornwall, after all (tin miners used to keep them in their hats to eat for lunch!), and Mom had never had one. We had some lovely chicken pasties from a local deli, then walked around town a bit before deciding to head out to St. Michael's Mount-- a little island off the coast of Marazion (not far from Penzance) with a big ol' castle on top.
Oh look-- it has a built-in moat!
We had some difficulty actually getting there-- we had to find our way onto a bus (and find the right stop... which the ornery bus driver was not inclined to be too helpful with), and then to a little motor boat which took us out to the island.
The 'harbor' on the island... full of little tiny boats!
You see, at high tide, the island is completely surrounded by water, and the only way to get there is by boat. At low tide, however, the water recedes, and a walkway magically appears which connects the island to the beach:
It's a miracle! (Note: You can't see him, but there's a dude in robes with a staff raised in the air at one end of this road-- everyone else says that the road only appears at low tide, but what really happens is that Moses takes a break for half of the day-- his arms get tired--and then comes back after tea.)
So we took the little boat across the moat water to the mount. We started to walk to the castle, which started out rather pleasantly:
Do not be fooled by the palm trees-- this is not a tropical island.
We're still in England-- cold, damp, foggy, England.
And then it started to lose some of its pleasantness:
Oh hi, super steep stone steps. I forgot that the castle is on top of a small MOUNTAIN.
Nope-- no trams or funiculars for us English tourists-- no sir. We hike our way up big slippery rocks to go look at old castles. What do you take us for, a bunch of lily-livered Americans?
Oh.... sorry. I've been in this country for too long.
Ah-hem. So we hiked our way up to the castle. On the way, we saw the remnants of an epic battle between what seems to have been The Man in Black from the Princess Bride and a Giant made out of rock.
The castle was HUGEmongous.
How would you like this to be the entrance to your house?
Alright Vanessa-- how exactly does one gain entrance to a gigantic castle?
You knock on the door, of course!
Ok, enough of my silliness. Let's go on a tour!
The chapel in the back.
The lookout tower (or, at least that's what I think it is).
Old-fashioned security system.
And an old-fashioned dining room.
With a much less old-fashioned parlor.
And newfangled tourists.
And the views from up there-- holy moly. Even the grey sky looked beautiful-- it blended right into the sea, and it felt like you were just staring out into an endless expanse.
The town of Marazion, with the rolling hills of the Cornish countryside, in the distance.
Looking down the dizzyingly high slopes from the castle across the gardens.
And there were all kinds of cool things inside:
Uh...this is a mumified cat. From Egypt. From 2000 BCE. It's kinda creepy.
This is an exact replica of the castle, carved out of champaigne corks by one of the head butlers that used to live in the castle (by the way, it has been, and still is, the residence of an actual family for the last several centuries).
A Samari suit. Apparently, this family was really into collecting stuff.
This wasn't inside....but on the walk to the castle. I found it rather hysterical. What is inside, you ask? My theory: a rope that you tie around your waist, and you can just slide back down the path, and the rope conveniently stops your decent when you arrive at the bottom.
Or, it's a telephone. But I like my idea better.
So after poking around the castle, we headed back down the crazy hill (which is just as hard, if not harder, than going up). We then had to walk back to the mainland-- the tide had gone out, so the boats couldn't run anymore, but the path had reappeared from under the sea.
Dear Car-- you're doing it wrong. You are not a boat. Love, Vanessa.
The long and winding road.
Once back on land, we found our way to a taxi, and headed back to Penzance. We had a bit of time to kill before dinner, and since our B&B happened to be a spa as well, I got a back massage (since I was the luggage sherpa, it seemed only fair). Then we had a lovely dinner (very long... but quite good, and there was nothing else to do anyway). We had to walk back to the house through a creepy churchyard though...with cemetery attached... in the dark... I was not in favor of this. More on that later.
Anyway-- a brief but lovely first day in Cornwall! I'll tell you all about Saturday tomorrow (I promise!).
Before I go, I leave you with this bit of hilarity:
Dear Sir-- you are in the middle of nowheresville. Climbing on top of a big pile of rocks is not likely to improve your cell phone reception. Love, Me.
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