As it happened, I was a bit premature and should have left it a couple more days as to be honest, I didn't really enjoy the ride much. I thought I was fine as I made my usual preparations the night before, but come the morning I was definitely a bit off form. My legs were leaden and I was also feeling a bit bloated which makes riding uncomfortable, but having got up early and got all my gear on to go for a ride, out I went into the early (05.20 I left - yikes!) morning gloom.
Gloomy it was too - no gorgeous sun rises this morning, instead the sky was either a blown out light grey or a bruise colour depending on which direction I was facing, and it was hellishly humid. Like being in the reptile house at the zoo, the clingy heat wrapped itself all around my body as I rode, and I had sweat in places that don't normally sweat on a ride, like in my ears!
There was no real reason for heading to Portloe other than I haven't been there in about 30 years and as it's reachable for me, why not?
Not feeling 100% though meant I wasn't in the mood for taking my usual ton of photos but I got a few as the day wore on, I just wasn't hauling on the brakes every hundred yards and machine gunning shots like I usually do.
Early morning humid haze and gloom.
Classic thatch in Tregony. Nice to look at and photograph, but would I want to live in a cottage like this? Erm... no. My sister lived in one for a while and boy was it pokey inside. Some might say cosy, I say pokey. Not a straight or flat wall in the place, and as for low beams... being a tall and handsome sort I'd need to wear a hard hat if I lived there. No, cottaging isn't for me...
I had thought of simply blatting along the main road from Tregony, it being early and all, but then I remembered the hill that leads out of the village... that's a long and ugly climb in a car never mind on a heavy bicycle. Plus despite that early hour, there was a surprising amount of fast moving traffic on the road. I say surprising, I really need to get with the times and accept that the roads are busier than they used to be, even at silly o'clock. So I consulted the OS Map and took the back lanes instead, which still meant ascending a brute of a hill but at least the road was quiet and I was out of harm's way.
I don't know if my bout of the lurgy had done something to sense of smell, or it was the thick humid air (most likely the latter) but my word there were some strong and beautiful scents reaching my considerable hooter as I made my way along the lanes. Thankfully my Hay Fever tablets work well as I am a sufferer and the Pollen count was forecast to be high, but all was well in that regard and the open countryside was not a bad place to be.
Whoa... Tough neighbourhood...
I nearly suffered an underwear trauma when taking this photo as a Rabbit suddenly broke cover down by my feet and made a run for it up the road. Made me jump it did.
Hoi oi oi... Excuse-me... Portloe?
Ah ha, that's more like it.
A Guidepost rather than a milestone, as it doesn't tell you how far anywhere is. This one is unusual too in that the details are painted rather than carved, and also mixes the old spelling of St Austell with the more modern spelling of Tregony (that old finger post above shows it as Tregoney and that would be more recent than this old stone obviously).
Oh hello, I've picked up another passenger I see. Most of my bikes already feature a handlebar spider, a bit like the wing mirror spiders on cars, I believe they are a factory install. Now though this slimy beggar was blagging a free lift as well. I left him alone and he was last seen mooching contentedly about under the top tube bag that contains the batteries for my front lights.
After passing a few houses scattered about along the lane to Portloe, I finally arrived in the village itself and had to blag a shot of this bus shelter for a couple of reasons.
Firstly I was amazed buses come through here in the first place. The bus company only have 'proper' buses as far as I know, none of the Mercedes Sprinter bodied affairs you often encounter in hard to navigate rural areas
The other reason was the shelter and the surrounds are a credit to all those who look after them. The shelter was decorated on the back wall for the Royal Wedding, while on one end wall were poems about prominent local residents, and on the opposite end, old photos of the village. The whole thing just has a lovely community feel to it, and proof that a bus shelter can be so much more than something to keep the rain off while you wait.
A common enough sight in villages around the county, an old boat used to grow flowers in, but not the best idea it must be said, to have the road name in there as well, at the back and therefore obscured by the plants. That's being a bit picky though I must admit.
Muchly wonky verticals. Exactly what you shouldn't do with a wide angle lens - go low and point it upwards, even worse when your target buildings are at funny angles to the road in the first place. Anyway, this was a small detail on the road through Portloe, just above the small harbour.
It's not hard to see why some similar small coastal villages have banned vehicles from their centres.
A quid for a crappy old shell with Portloe written on it? Talk about a rip off. No wonder the jar is empty...
It's certainly a pretty little village, and still home to a couple of working boats fishing for Lobster and Crab.
The building right foreground is The Lugger Hotel.
The South Coast always finds a flat and calm sea, at least when I visit anyway.
According to the February 2014 issue of the Veryan Church magazine, there are only 89 houses in Portloe, 47 fewer than in 1901. Two or more being knocked into one will account for some of those lost, and six were demolished to make way for The Lugger's car park apparently, although when that happened it doesn't say. As of 2014, only 28 of those 89 houses are permanently lived in, the rest are second homes or holiday lets.
A quick stop on the way to Veryan to bag a photo of the Foxgloves and instead I managed to get a Bee doing its thing.
How nice to find a village shop not blathered in garish 'Happy Shopper' or similar branding. Mind you they do need to work on their window display...
Entrance to St Symphorian's Church, Veryan.
I've got a bit of a thing for Coffin Rests, I find them a fascinating feature, so opened the double gate rather self consciously in order to get this one in the shot nicely.
All the Coffin Rests I've personally seen have been just plain oblongs, this one though is tapered, while the rest at St Levan is actually Coffin shaped.
No shelter under the Lychgate roof for the dead peeps here though, nor anywhere for the Pallbearers to sit.
St Symphorian's Church, Veryan.
Featureless, blown out skies do my head in!
Headstone honouring Frederick Dowrick of the Sixth Battalion, the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, who enlisted in 1914.
The adjacent headstone must relate to the same family, as that is a name I can't say I've ever come across before, so hardly common, yet there appears to be some disagreement regarding the correct spelling between the two stones. Changes in spelling are the bane of family historians, as my ex wife found out.
Finally I made a stop to brew up a coffee, once again at a fave place to do just that, beside the river at Ruan Lanihorne.
By then I was feeling the humid heat not just in the form of sweat but also by way of a thumping headache so made no further stops for photos, instead just making my way quietly home.
On a different day I would've enjoyed the ride a lot more, but there we go and it wasn't a bad ride by any means, I just wasn't quite as enthusiastic as I normally am.
Full details can be found HERE
I'll probably go back and do this ride again when I'm feeling up for poking my nose about a bit more, especially where Veryan is concerned, as there are some very interesting features to be seen in the village other than a shop and the church.
At thirty miles this was a big old ride for me, especially given I was doing little more than going through the motions! Still, lesson learned, if I don't feel quite right, leave it for another day, as on a ride like this, I just wouldn't be doing it justice.
On the upside, I took Fatso out yesterday for some quality Bridleway bimbling and I must say I felt as fit as a very fit thing, with strong legs and an unusually for me healthy desire to belt along at a fair old clip. But that's for another post.
Happy cycling!
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