A Cornish Pilgrimage

(picture to the right) the view from the cottage i stayed in of a Falmouth beach Cornwall, England

(picture above)
Sun set at Falmouth Harbour Cornwall, England

The road veers right and begins the steady climb to the heady heights of Pendennis Point. My modest car huffs and puffs as traffic starts to stack up patiently behind me. A barrier to my left clouds the seascape and the temptation to peep is too immense. I stop the car and stride eagerly to the wall and peer over. The scene is impressive, revealing a small section of old Falmouth harbour. A vast warship, presumably undergoing maintenance prior to setting out to defend the shores dominates the visible harbour view.

I get back into my vehicle, as the road continues to twist and climb en route for the summit, hungry seagulls swoop overhead, and gather in ever-increasing groups as i approach the peak which has a large assembled amount of tourists. Surprisingly, parking is free, as soon as i found a space i immediately set off to take in the diverse panoramic view's at the top.

The journey to the summit merits every second. To the north lie the Falmouth docks and an abundance of vessels anticipating their next voyage on the open sea. Facing eastwards, the eye is drawn to the glut of yachts spread throughout Falmouth Bay, sailing freely in the steady sea breeze. In the distance sits the appealing little town of St Mawes, a mile or so across the water.

Magnificent view over there, remarks an elderly fellow standing beside me, as he points towards the yachting event and its zealous sailors. I smile in acknowledgement as he shuffles back to his car and his waiting wife. I frequently wonder if folks living here fully appreciate such magnificent surroundings or if the beauty becomes taken for granted. Coming from central England, the sea has always held fascination with me, vacations to the coast forever keenly anticipated when i was a child.

Look due south and on a clear day your eye is drawn along the magnificent, rugged coastline leading to Lizard Point, the most southerly part of Britain. As the wind howls and pounds the shoreline, a flock of seagulls unleash a harsh discordance of sound, daily rituals unperturbed by the resident tourist.

While the road twists and turns back towards sea level, my thoughts drift to the competing yachts, racing in the bay. What a wonderfully liberating sensation it must be sailing open sea. Adventorous thoughts race through my mind, but my thoughts return to the road. I'm heading back to cottage i have rented for the weekend, figure i will spend the day on the beach there as it is peaceful and a very pleasant day.