24th June 2021.
After over a year of pandemic, lockdowns and isolations, it was time for The Walking And Talking Society to go on one of those now rare things called a “holiday”. With the world how it is, going abroad was illogical so we sought to please Boris and stay at home.
In what must be a first for our little group, we decided to head south. Usually you’ll find us on days out in the Lake District, or the Yorkshire Dales, or even on the NC500 at the very top of Scotland. As five proud northerners (and yes, Cheshire is “north” cos we’re on North West Tonight), we mistrust the south and those who dwell there. But change is always good so we booked a week in an Airbnb in Redruth, Cornwall – as far south as we could go.
We split into two cars. Joel would join Andy and Brendan would pick up me and Taras. Brendan may have a big dad-car but it was full of luggage for three men, plus five bodyboards. There was just one little space left for me in the back.
Here’s my home for the next five hours. No motorhomes this time!
We hit the road in a very heavy car. There were 316 miles between my Northwich gaff and Redruth. I wasn’t too upset that I wasn’t driving…
After about three hours of motorway driving, Brendan pulled us into Taunton Deane services where we could sample some local, southern delicacies.
A Cornish Road Trip, brought to you by McDonald’s.
Brendan offered me his bag of fruit, before duly eating it all before I could even have a taste.
As we were about to leave, a black Ford pulled up next to us and beeped. It scared me. Fortunately the people inside were not members of Somerset’s mafia.
After a quick hello-goodbye, Team Dad-Car rejoined the motorway.
As we approached the south-east, the countryside became more picturesque. But it’s nothing on the north. Just saying.
Just before 2pm we reached our Redruth home for the week.
Andy and Joel soon joined us. It was a decent little home with good access to the bypass and an Aldi nearby. Redruth is an old mining town full of mostly working-class people. It’s not somewhere you’d really come to Cornwall to visit, but it is nicely situated between all the places we wanted to visit. And it’s relatively cheap.
After settling in and stocking up the fridge with beer, we headed to our first destination…
Newquay
…or to be more specific, Fistral Beach.
It’s a popular place with loads of car parks that are usually full. We arrived at 4:30 on an overcast day, so were able to park not too far from the beach at the Most Holy Trinity Catholic Church – 50°24’59.5″N 5°05’23.5″W. As we arrived, we received a stroke of fortune as the clouds cleared to reveal unexpected sunshine.
Joel was very excited. Joel loves bodyboarding.
We walked through the Newquay Golf Club, narrowly missing wayward golfballs. The sea looked inviting.
Fistral Beach is Britain’s best known surfing spot. On the northern end of the beach is “The Cribbar” reef that causes “big waves”. As an absolute novice, I wasn’t interested in that. Tbf, I wasn’t too keen on making a fool of myself on a bodyboard. I didn’t even know what bodyboarding was. Joel and Andy soon showed me how it was done.
And I kind of got the hang of it! I was loving the water!
Taras was not.
Taras isn’t fond of the ocean.
The trick is jumping on the board and kicking off just as the wave crashes. Joel and Andy were much better at timing their jumps than me, but I managed it a few times!
I never noticed that Joel’s board said “HARD SLICK” on the underside. Or is it “HARD SUCK”? Why is Joel promoting a hard suck?
We all however noticed the very red belly on Andy. Sunburn, seawater and slapping yourself onto a bodyboard do not mix.
After exhausting ourselves, we chilled on the sand and watched a dude glide overhead.
Show off.
Now we were hungry so we walked into Newquay.
Finding a place to eat was near-impossible. Everywhere was fully booked. Every fish and chip place featured a huge queue. We walked for an hour, from one disappointment to the next, before resorting to a chippy about five minutes from the car. Obviously (being we were in the south of England), it was expensive. You just have to accept that in Cornwall. You also have to expect thuggish seagulls. The walk back to the car was frightful, with beady-eyed beasts glaring at our chips from every rooftop.
Eating food outside is risky. Thankfully, neither one of us was mugged.
Brendan wanted to stick around for a pretty sunset, but as the sun sank in the sky, the clouds rolled in. This was to be a common theme of the holiday. Hard luck, Brendan.
And so we headed back to Redruth and prepared for our TOG24 photo shoot in the morning. We were going to be models. No, really.
#VidOnTour 