23 March  Thursday Salisbury  Stonehenge  Exeter  Plymouth   St. Austell

The tub/shower is high, narrow with weird waterworks.  I think I like tea with lots of milk as a wake-up beverage. It's sunny and blue.  I am down to breakfast at 7 AM.  It is my first traditional English breakfast and I am surprised.  It is heavy but everything is good—sausages, bacon (ham), juices, cereals, pastries, hash brown triangles, mushrooms, tomatoes and eggs.  We pack and bring our luggage to the lobby.  Jason has us sing “While You’re Away” as a farewell tribute to the staff of the White Hart before we leave. The sun is out, but clouds roll in as we load the coach.  We head north through the city passing the Poultry Cross and northwest out A360. Today we are going straight to Stonehenge.

It is definitely raining as we leave town. Sue tells how the cathedral got to where it is now.  It was originally two miles north on the site of Old Sarum, an iron age hillfort  populated after the Norman Conquest of England by William the Conqueror in 1066. Two hundred and 17 years later a new site in the river valley below was chosen by Pope Honorius III in 1218.  The city of Salisbury sprung up around it.  Sue explains that the ‘new’ city of Salisbury is based on a legend. The story goes that an archer based at Old Sarum decided where to build the city by shooting an arrow down into the valley.  But how could an arrow fly that far?  The archer shot a deer that ran and eventually died at today’s Cathedral site.

We are at Stonehenge and park in the visitor parking lot early so we our music while we wait. By the time we walk down
the visitor’s center it is raining sideways. We load a to shuttle bus that takes is up to the site. It is a brisk walk up the hill to the stones.  It is amazing.  Spiritual.  Here is one of the most enigmatic sites in the world.  It is everything I thought it would be.  Some members of our group aren’t impressed.  Most of us have been to the cement recreation on the Columbia River in Washington.  It is by far more beautiful.  The rain--sideways.  Tonnie is mesmerized.  However, the clouds part just enough so the sun highlights the clouds and the stones.  It is goose-bump mystic--truly awesome. 

We load the shuttle about twenty minutes later and head back to the visitor center and gift shop.  It is also pretty impressive.  I buy a picture book and a heart shaped stone (blue-creativity) for Marianne.  It check out the impressive multimedia exhibit hall and lots of unearthed tools and bones.  The Druid huts were getting a thatch refresh. There is also another section with a Chinese version.

We are on the coach quickly and heading south on A303 and A30—dual carriageways.  Sue tells us about her love for horses, her partner Dave’s junkyard/front lawn and cider—‘Falling-Down Juice.”  She points out thatched roofs and goes through the history and resurgence of craft/art of thatching.  She talks about hedgerows and how in the spring they are cut back and ‘woven’ to make them extremely thick so animals cannot pass through—great home for small animals and birds.  England is now covered with Broom, which she loves.  It is being used more and more in hedgerows and it smells like coconuts. (Broom and Gorse are a fire hazard in Oregon and smell like cerasote.)

We do not go into Exeter, as originally planned, because of our time crunch  involved with getting to St. Austell and getting to the Callington concert/practice on time this evening.  We stop at a lay-by/rest area and have a quick lunch and coffee—it’s raining.  There are clothes in washing machines outside-for the truckers (lorry-men)-.  I have a chicken pasta salad, get my new stainless steel water bottle filled and a pastry for later.  We continue to Plymouth, A38—which we won’t be stopping at either.  Grant, the Coach driver, can only work an 8 hour day, so we are going to get a backup driver for the Callington leg of the trip.  Sue plays some Celtic music sung in the Briton language as we drive.  We are now in the moors—Dartmoor (Devon) and prison (1806), Exmoor (southwest Somerset) and Bordmin Moor (Cornwall).  Daphne Du Maurier (Rebecca) wrote about the Jamaica Inn (a seedy place of nefarious smugglers, etc.) after stay there in 1836.

The coach now by-passes Plymouth and we cross River Tamar on the incredible Tamar bridge.  The white, multi-arching Royal Albert Bridge is parallel to the south. We are in Cornwall. I see a sign for Callington (tonight’s first concert) which is in the far eastern corner of Cornwall.  Later I see a sign for St. Neots (Saturday night’s venue).  Sue asks if anyone knows of the TV series, Poldark.  I know it exists, but nothing about the romance set in the late 1700’s early 1800’s. Cornwall is where it takes place.  The (Ross) Poldark book series, by Winston Graham, is historical fiction, all subtitled A Novel of Cornwall--1945 through 1953.  Winston decided to bring it back to life (1973 to 2002--for TV series), starting with The Dark Moon.  Our hero is a British Army officer in the American Revolutionary/Independence War that returns home to Cornwall in 1783.   His bride to be, Elizabeth, thought he died so she married his cousin, Francis (who dies later on)—she does too (complications giving birth to her daughter). Ross tries to restore the family fortune, squandered by his lascivious servants, by reviving the families derelict tin mines.  He later marries Demelza Carne, his servant girl and they have lots of children. ROMANCE NOVEL. 

In less than an hour, we are winding down the narrow streets into a warm  St. Austell with blooming flowers and trees.  Our Travel Lodge is a modern, four story arched-lump, with a KFC and a McDonald's in the parking lot.  The lobby is up on

the first floor—shops are downstairs.  The staff is not ready for us so we wait for key cards.  We were told we have a 15 minute turnaround time, but we actually have a comfortable amount of leisure to unpack, freshen up and even rest before we get into our concert attire and load the bus for Callington—15:30 (3:30).  I am starting to wrap my head around the reality of washing clothes.  No dinner.  Our alternate driver, Jenny, in another coach, picks us up.  It reeks of mildew and diesel (my nose immediately starting running).  Sue is coming to the concert!  It takes 1:45 to get to Callington.