| Submitted by: Ren Withnell , United Kingdom |
| Submission Date: 05 November 2005 |
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Day 1
I’ve got a friend who’s been going to the same static caravan site now for 20 to 30 years. He used to take the kids when they were young and now they are adults and have flown the nest, they still go down as a family every year. Only this year was different. This year the youngest has got his partner pregnant and she is due slap bang in the middle of the holidays. This means my friend and his partner want to be at home when baby comes along, and the youngest and his partner need to be home for the same reasons. The eldest is still going with his partner. So there are a couple of caravans spare at Gear Park Holidays, in Perranporth, Cornwall. Arrangements are made, cheques pass hands and I’ve booked a caravan for the end of August.
Then there’s the gf. Her back has been bad for quite some time now, and we were still not sure, even with the new painkillers, if she would be fit to go on the bike for so long. We have done a test ride to Derbyshire and that went ok, but 350 miles is a long way. The decision to go on the bike is only settled on the night before we leave. If we were to take the car we would drive down overnight to avoid the traffic, on the bike we plan to leave early on the Saturday morning.
So on Saturday morning at 0600 the alarm goes off. We do not want to get out of bed, no matter how excited we are about going on holiday. We finally scrape ourselves off the sheets and into some clothes and feed. Of course I have to nag the gf to get ready. “Oh, is there room for this…and this…hang on…this?” After all my nagging I give up and sit down. Moments later she’s stood there, helmet on and ready to go. We set off at 0705, 5 minutes late. The nagging paid off.
It’s a perfect day for riding. No rain but some cloud cover to stop the sun from making us sweat to death in the bike kit. We head straight for the motorways. It’s too far to be messing around with A roads. The bike had showed itself to be uncomfortable on the Faro trip but today I’ve got my *** into a groove and we’re moving along. I’m more concerned about the gf. I’m wondering if every bump is agony and each mile is hell. After 80 miles we pull of into Hilton Park services and get off the bike. My *** is a bit numb and my knees stiff. I ask the gf how she is in my best “worried and concerned” voice. Bugger, she’s fine. So pumped up on painkillers I could slap her around the car park and she wouldn’t even notice.
I stretch and have a smoke then we carry on. We manage to clear Birmingham before 0900 that means we have missed the worst of the Saturday traffic. Traffic start to get heavier as we get closer to Bristol, and there must be a few matches on today as plenty of cars are sporting flags and scarves out the window. Another 80 miles down to Michael Wood services, more concerns over the gf as I notice she’s fidgeting a little from time to time. This time I’m starting to suffer on the bike, this time my neck aches and my legs ache and my bum aches and my back aches. Of course the gf is fine. I hate that, I hate that she’s the one I’m worried about and yet she’s fine. Bummer.
At the services we park net to 2 Harleys and a VFR800. The couple on the 2 Harleys are stopping near Exeter and have only another 80 or 90 miles to go. The couple on the VFR are off to Perranporth! We talk for a while and I learn the Harley couple had been to Faro this year, on the plane. They did not wish to get the bikes all dirty in that dusty desert. Another stretch, another toilet visit and another smoke and we are off again.
This time the traffic is getting very heavy. We’re filtering for 4 or 5 miles, a short blast then filtering again. As we filter along at 10 to 15 mph I have to laugh. The bike is wide due to the saddlebags so I’m being careful not to squeeze through any really tight gaps. Even so through some of the smaller gaps I can feel the gf pull her knees into my hips tight. The bars and the bags stick out at least 6 inches further than her knees, but her mind is telling her to breathe in and brace for impact. It’s nice to know she has faith in my ability.
This filtering is tiring and we stop at Bridgeport services for a stretch and rest. Again we set off into the traffic and again we filter. Finally we come off the motorway and head towards Exeter in search of food. Sainsbury’s have the answer and I order 2 bacon butties, the gf has the all day breakfast. I eat my butties and start to eye the gf’s all day breakfast. No chance. The food monster, all 7 and a half stone of her, is in eating mode. There is barely any baked bean juice left on the plate when she is finished.
The A30 which runs through the spine of Devon and Cornwall is busy. Most of this is dual carriageway so the single lane sections are jammed solid. More filtering, more slow riding, more sore *** and more frustration. If we’d used the car it would take a week to clear this road. Another quick stop then finally the Perranporth signs come into view. The road is now single carriageway, twisty and fun. The fun only lasts for 10 miles then I’m in Perranporth. A quick look at the map guides me back up the road a mile into Perran Sands Campsite.
Gear Park is a tiny section of a much larger complex. We find the owner and book in after some confusion over who has paid what to whom. The caravan is a dated old thing but in good order and more than suitable for our needs. We unpack, sort out the bedding and settle in. The evening is drawing in and the air is cooling. Of course the fire is not working. The owner cannot fix this and assures me he will get a man out to fix is on Monday. He leaves so we take an executive decision to light the oven that warms the van nicely.
We go to the shop for basic supplies, say “Hello” so my friend’s eldest and his partner, watch some TV and throw ourselves into a weary bed.
Day 2
I wake up early on Sunday morning. It sounds like there is a feeding station on the roof of our caravan for the local seagulls. And those seagulls have big noisy feet. I fall back to sleep after looking at the gf lustfully for a while. I wake again at 0730 and make sufficient noise to “accidentally” wake the gf. The caravan has a stove kettle that whistles when it’s hot. This makes me smile, so quaint, so simple and so effective. And a teapot! I’ve not used a teapot since I left home, this is like stepping back 20 years and judging from the décor of the caravan I’ve stepped back even further.
After several cups of tea, several rounds of toast covered in lashings and lashings of marmalade and a quick smoke, the first job of the day is to go shopping for supplies. We kit up and I set off for Newquay, but I spot a sign for Truro and follow that instead. We pass by a wind farm we had seen on the way in yesterday. I stop the bike for a moment to admire the magnificent 3 bladed turbines gracefully swish through the air. We ask ourselves how anyone can object to these environmentally friendly machines, I’d have one on the roof of my house if it would fit.
The roads are good fun with sweeping bends and good surfaces. More impressive is the scenery. Rolling hills with green fields, random trees and small villages. The whole area seems to be created for picture postcards. Truro opens up before us as a mid sized town with a large church. I’m very surprised to see a sign welcoming us to the City of Truro, the large church must be a cathedral. It is a city with car parks and concrete office blocks, but a small city that does not feel overwhelming or dreary. We quickly spot a Tesco and after a short detour due to missing the entrance, we pull in.
Supplies are purchased and the bike is loaded for the return trip. The sun is shining and we are getting hot in the bike gear, it is good to get back on the road. It’s only a short ride back to the caravan now I know where I’m going. When we get back we unload and put things away, then wonder what to do. My friend’s son is going down to the beach at Perranporth so we decide to catch up with him down there. For the first time in years I put on jeans rather than my bike pants, but still wear my jacket, gloves and boots. The gf wears the same except she has on shoes and no gloves. Riding without full gear makes me feel very vulnerable so we travel the short distance into town and the beach very carefully.
I park the bike on the beach wall and we look out over the beach. It is busy and quite large, there’s no hope of finding the other folks. We settle on a spot halfway down the beach and spread out our jackets to lie upon in the same way normal folks use towels. The sun is shining and I strip to my shorts and the gf to her bikini. I don’t normally like to do the beach thing, it bores me and it’s all too normal, but today I’m happy to sit and talk with the gf, watch the other people and occasionally dip my toes in the sea. The sand is warm, the beach is surrounded by gentle cliffs and a small friendly town, the noise of the waves pleasantly mask the noise of screaming kids, I am happy to be here today.
We don’t stop too long, enough to rest and soak in the atmosphere but not so long as to get bored. We return to the caravan with plans to go for a walk around the site, but we both fall asleep instead. When we do wake up we look at each other with our blurred vision and laugh. We wander through the campsite admiring some amazing luxury caravans with envy. We talk about what we would like and how we could go about doing this. We settle on a plan to have 2 separate caravans so we both have personal space, sell the kids into slavery and become trailer trash and beach bums. Sounds quite good to me.
The campsite is on top of the steep dunes leading down to the beach. Looking over the beach in the evening sun is stunning. We gently make our way down a steep concrete road onto a concrete sand covered ramp that takes us down to the beach itself. This is perfect. Golden sand leading out to a crisp blue-green ocean, small rock faces and towering dunes, a gentle sea breeze and the company of a sexy woman. We did consider doing “it” but sand in those kind of places could act like grinding paste, and there was nowhere private anyhow. Still, we had a laugh thinking about it.
We walk back up the face of a dune. This is hard as every step up slides back half a step as the sand gives way. Trying to be manly I press on ahead of the gf and arrive at the top with the veins in my head pulsating and my heart trying to leave my chest. The gf arrives only seconds after looking oh so slightly out of breath. We sit on the dune to recover and watch the sun sink towards the horizon.
Back at the caravan we make tea, feed our faces and settle down to watch TV for the evening. We discuss the news, talk of how we would like things to be, what to do tomorrow and eventually get down and dirty. We sleep well.
Day 3
I wake up and get up about 0800, I finally raise sleeping beauty from the pit at 0900 and we shower. I also speak with a friend of mine, M, who moved to Cornwall some 10 years ago but we have remained in occasional contact and see each other at various weddings and events. I arrange to go and see him on Wednesday.
This being the bank holiday Monday all the usual tourist places will be packed. We decide to just get on the bike and head out, follow the front wheel and see where it takes us. Before we set off the site owner arrives with another gentleman who fixes the gas fire. It’s a simple job, replace a small part called the thermocouple, but it takes a while due to a lack of nuts and bolts of the correct thread. Anyhow, the fire is working now.
We leave about 1200 and head towards Truro, going round in circles at one point. The sun is shining and illuminates the green fields and small villages in an enchanting way. I ride with no more direction than following the sun. We travel slowly down single-track lanes with high hedgerows and trees on either side. The road turns round the side of a sandstone farmhouse then suddenly opens up into a lush green valley complete with broad flat river estuary, boats, gently rolling hills and muddy shoreline. I have to stop
The gf gets off and grabs her camera. |
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