Our original plan, and the reason we came to Southwest England in the first place, was to visit Port Isaac, home to where they film the PBS/BBC television show "Doc Martin". The scenery steals the show from the actual plot. It's gorgeous. But sometimes reality intervenes with best laid plans. GPS showed that it was a 2.5 hour drive from Bristol to Port Isaac, and after our adventure on the roads the day before, I (Kathy) at least, was reluctant to attempt such a lengthly drive. So I looked carefully on the map for somewhere closer where we could find a beach or at least see the ocean. I found a city on the map that had a beach and looked at the reviews, which sounded good. So we got directions, downloaded them on the iPhone and headed out to Weston-super-Mare. It was supposed to be only 22 miles and 34 minutes away, mostly "motorway" (freeway) as opposed to "carriageway" (kind of like our hiway 99).
The road led down the Avon to a high bridge and a meeting with the M-5 that led to Weston. Following Siri's reassuring voice, we went down the M-5, took an exit, went through at least 7 roundabouts ("at the round about, take the 2nd exit to......") and finally came to the most touristy beach town I have ever seen since I was last at Seaside Oregon. Not exactly the secluded walking beach we had looked forward to. Not only was it noisy and filled with people, shops, carnival games, rides and other money grabbing activities, the tide was out and other than a strip of sand that was filled with sunburned Briton's there was a mile of mud past which you could barely see the waves. Yuck!
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| The Grand Pier |
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| Sand, then mud and then, a long way out there, the sea |
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| Lots of Britons getting...... tanned???? |
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| Or walking along the Promenade |
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| Or finding lots of ways to spend money |
We made the best of it and ate our picnic lunch perched on a rock wall next to a long concrete path that looked just like the Promenade at Seaside. Watching the people of every age and description stroll on the path was very interesting and amusing.
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| You could ride a donkey on the beach.....no thanks! |
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| Eating lunch and watching the parade |
Finally we decided to try and find a more secluded stretch of sand I had read about, appropriately called Sand Beach. We headed back to the car and (of course) stopped for ice cream on the way. We were asking the shop girl if she knew how to get to Sand Beach when we were interrupted by a kind gentleman who said he thought he knew the way. We stepped out of the shop and had a wonderful conversation with Malcolm and his wife Catherine. It turned out we were about the same age as us and we had a lot in common. Malcolm is a policeman whose passion is woodworking (he showed us some of his work with pics on his iPhone) and Catherine is a gardener. We must have talked to them for over a half hour. This is pretty much how it has been in our time in England.....meeting lots of very nice, interesting and friendly people.
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| Catherine and Malcolm |
After we parted with our new friends, we headed north to try and find Sand Beach. What followed was just short of a disaster. We found ourselves on very narrow streets with cars parked on the sides and cars coming at us when there was barely room for one car. We drove through residential neighborhoods this way, getting higher and higher on the headlands. The view was great, but the driving intimidating.
Then I saw a sign for Sand Beach and directed Jeff onto literally the most awful drive we have ever been on. The road was so narrow, it was barely a path. On each side was vegetation, trees, bushes, even blackberries and no shoulder. Every few yards a car would come barreling around a corner coming straight at us with no room to pass. We played chicken, deciding who would scratch up the side of their car to let the other pass, by sheer hutzpah. Jeff was sweating bullets as I mopped his brow. If he took his hands off wheel or his eyes off the road, we were done for. My admiration for Jeff's driving skills increased as he had to keep shifting, maneuvering, and dodging cars, garbage trucks, motorcycles, bikers and walkers. There were no turn-offs and no escape. It was simply "Forward or Die". Finally we came to a "car park" and saw the promised beach!! But sadly it was just like the beach at Weston--a little sand, a lot of mud and no ocean. What a disappointment. I felt awful that I had led us on such a horrible journey. We decided to head for home.
Unfortunately, we had lost Siri and had to find Bristol on our own, which we managed to do. But it was rush hour. After a near fatal encounter with a city bus, we decided it was time to turn in the car and cut our losses. We managed to find the Avis, said goodbye to the Vauxhall and the chipmunks inside the engine and walked back toward the hotel. Boy was it good to be on foot!!!! (sidenote: miraculously, the Vauxhall did not have a scratch on it when we turned it in!!)
We stopped to sample the local cider (delicious). We sat down with three men who had just graduated with Master's Degrees in Documentary Film making and were celebrating. We chatted with them while we drowned our sorrows and quenched our thirsts. Again, an interesting conversation with really nice people. The cider and discussion mellowed us enough to go home, take our nap and shower and enjoy another lovely evening in Bristol.
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| The new graduates--and our new friends |
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