Wednesday August 21
So it’s an easy drive from Gaverne to Truro. As promised, we exited via Port Isaac. Much easier road.
As we went through, we tried to turn and venture into the village. Fail. Too steep, too narrow, and couldn’t find the way in. The road we took quickly became one way, looped around and spat us out, right where the bus parked yesterday. He was back again. Apparently there is only one bus stop for both bays. I’ve said it before. These places were not designed for cars. In fact, they were built long before even Henry was thinking up reasons for having a back seat.
This is the sort of village that would get all of those deranged hiker types all slippery. Madness. Even a motorcycle would be in danger of flipping over backwards going up some of the slopes, or over the handlebars going down.
For somewhere like Gaverne, the issue is more about parking and the narrow drive in and out. Here’s a thought: for authenticity, somebody should set up a park & ride a couple of miles inland, and shuttle people in and out in a stagecoach. ๐
Anyway...
The drive to Truro is pain free. Less than an hour. No opportunity to get lost or misdirected.
But...
We had the hotel loaded into Gladys the GPS, and all was good as we entered Truro. And then she had us going into narrower and narrower lanes, until we ended up in the private drive of a couple of semi-detached flats. Fuck. Oddly, as we were pulling out of this corner we had painted ourselves into, there was a sign on a post. “This is not the way to the Alverton Hotel.” Clearly some of Gladys’ cousins have made this same mistake before.
We knew it was on Tregolls Rd, which is just over there. So perhaps the maps Gladys is reading suggest a back entrance to the car park that never existed.
So out we go, extricating ourselves from Truro suburbia, and make our way around the front. Let’s go to the Tregolls Rd entrance. What a jolly good idea.
Apparently, this is an old abbey. Fuck! I mean Gosh!
That’s an impressive wee spot.
We’re way too early to check in, so we leave our bags and head off to explore. Half an hour away is a port town called Foul Mouth. I know that I’ve been accused of that once or thrice, but to give that name to a town? Why not just call it the thriving metropolis of Halitosis? Anyway, as luck would have it, Rick Stein has a restaurant here. A “Fush’n Chups” restaurant on the waterfront. It would be rude not to, right? So we’re off. How hard can that be?
Ask Gladys.
She takes us to a narrow one way alley, teetering on a backstreet that probably overlooks Rick’s place. Are we seeing a pattern here?
So it’s uncle Google to the rescue. Again. Out of the dead end streets, around the corner, and here we are. Car park is easy to find, but paying is a challenge. It’s primarily a coin machine, and Sarah doesn’t have any coins. So I ring the number provided, and the digital voice leads me by the hand through paying by card. Sheesh. Most parks have tap and go as a payment option, so this was unexpected. Oh well, done now.
Nice lunch. Sarah massacred a defenseless crustacean, while I did the fush n chups. Nice area. Then we came back to Truro, and had a wee poke around. They have a couple of cute buildings and beautiful cathedral, if you’re into churchy things. Every village has a small one, and there are a lot. Then back to the hotel.
It appears that the Alverton was built in the early 1900s, as a home. It then became an abbey, and is now a hotel. And it is impressive.
So it’s an easy drive from Gaverne to Truro. As promised, we exited via Port Isaac. Much easier road.
As we went through, we tried to turn and venture into the village. Fail. Too steep, too narrow, and couldn’t find the way in. The road we took quickly became one way, looped around and spat us out, right where the bus parked yesterday. He was back again. Apparently there is only one bus stop for both bays. I’ve said it before. These places were not designed for cars. In fact, they were built long before even Henry was thinking up reasons for having a back seat.
This is the sort of village that would get all of those deranged hiker types all slippery. Madness. Even a motorcycle would be in danger of flipping over backwards going up some of the slopes, or over the handlebars going down.
For somewhere like Gaverne, the issue is more about parking and the narrow drive in and out. Here’s a thought: for authenticity, somebody should set up a park & ride a couple of miles inland, and shuttle people in and out in a stagecoach. ๐
Anyway...
The drive to Truro is pain free. Less than an hour. No opportunity to get lost or misdirected.
But...
We had the hotel loaded into Gladys the GPS, and all was good as we entered Truro. And then she had us going into narrower and narrower lanes, until we ended up in the private drive of a couple of semi-detached flats. Fuck. Oddly, as we were pulling out of this corner we had painted ourselves into, there was a sign on a post. “This is not the way to the Alverton Hotel.” Clearly some of Gladys’ cousins have made this same mistake before.
We knew it was on Tregolls Rd, which is just over there. So perhaps the maps Gladys is reading suggest a back entrance to the car park that never existed.
So out we go, extricating ourselves from Truro suburbia, and make our way around the front. Let’s go to the Tregolls Rd entrance. What a jolly good idea.
Apparently, this is an old abbey. Fuck! I mean Gosh!
That’s an impressive wee spot.
We’re way too early to check in, so we leave our bags and head off to explore. Half an hour away is a port town called Foul Mouth. I know that I’ve been accused of that once or thrice, but to give that name to a town? Why not just call it the thriving metropolis of Halitosis? Anyway, as luck would have it, Rick Stein has a restaurant here. A “Fush’n Chups” restaurant on the waterfront. It would be rude not to, right? So we’re off. How hard can that be?
Ask Gladys.
She takes us to a narrow one way alley, teetering on a backstreet that probably overlooks Rick’s place. Are we seeing a pattern here?
So it’s uncle Google to the rescue. Again. Out of the dead end streets, around the corner, and here we are. Car park is easy to find, but paying is a challenge. It’s primarily a coin machine, and Sarah doesn’t have any coins. So I ring the number provided, and the digital voice leads me by the hand through paying by card. Sheesh. Most parks have tap and go as a payment option, so this was unexpected. Oh well, done now.
Nice lunch. Sarah massacred a defenseless crustacean, while I did the fush n chups. Nice area. Then we came back to Truro, and had a wee poke around. They have a couple of cute buildings and beautiful cathedral, if you’re into churchy things. Every village has a small one, and there are a lot. Then back to the hotel.
It appears that the Alverton was built in the early 1900s, as a home. It then became an abbey, and is now a hotel. And it is impressive.
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