Took the ferry to Truro and came upon the King Harry Ferry Bridge, a vehicular chain ferry crossing the estuary of the River Fal.
Arrived in Truro after a short bus ride as it was low tide and the ferry was unable to dock right in the town. Dumped my bags at my hotel and retired to The Old Ale House, which is owned by the Skinners Brewery.
A couple of the fine cask ales brewed by Skinners.
Not far from my accommodation, I discovered The Thomas Daniell, with its unusual cask dispense system and fine food to match the great ales.
I travelled by train to St. Ives on the west coast and made my way to the Pedn Olva Hotel overlooking the frothing sea below.
A friend had been to St. Ives earlier in the year and he had recommended The Pilchard Press, up an alleyway. I dutifully went and loved its small, intimate surroundings filled with locals and a good selection of ever-changing cask ales.
The Castle Inn is another fine pub in St. Ives. Fine food and ale can be had here.
I spent most of August 2019 in Cornwall, England. This was my first visit to the county and it delivered panoramic views, great pubs and fine cask ales in abundance. I started in Penzance, and no I did not see a single pirate, just people immensely enjoying the seaside. I have selected a few images to highlight each area of Cornwall that I witnessed. And I did almost four weeks in England with only a carry-on bag, two weeks of clean clothes and the use of hotel washing services. I travelled by airplanes, trains, underground, buses, boats, taxis and on foot.
A view from my hotel room toward St. Michael’s Mount in the distance.
The engaging lady behind the bar at The Dock Inn must have been a huge fan of comedienne Dawn French as she had her down pat, serving up great banter with the regulars and tourists alike.
A stunning moonlit evening shot.
A few nights later the sky was black and foreboding.
The Longboat was reliable for food and cask ale.
The Turk’s Head is the oldest pub in Penzance, having associations with pirates over 700 years ago.
I smashed my finger in the back door leading to the deck while protecting something more important, a fresh glass of red wine.
The pain was intense. The blood was gushing madly. A serviette was handy but the blood-letting would not cease, regardless of how many times I daubed it on the reddening napkin.
The wine stopper was a later addition as I struggled to stop the bleeding. And I was now idling, waiting for the cessation of the blood flow.
Not too bad.
Gizella Kosick Arboretum
Green Bench Brewing Company
Sign in Hops and Props bar
Hunting for geckos outside Hops and Props bar
Writer’ tears and
Bubble over the brain like lava
Hot on a flow with an
Undertow of emotions
That embrace the brain
Like a heated vice lock.
So I surf the web
As a distraction
A needle in the brain
That sparks life and
Words on paper.
On the screen
Stored in memory
Printed to page
Where the words flow more freely
From the depths of the printer
And I am relieved that I have no more
Fears or tears.
The Common, Broadway, Worcestershire, England.
Light is a wonderful thing
But so too is the inverse.
Shades of me
Shadows, if you will?
But possibly reflective in nature.
A different view
A view of the darker side
But still worthy of consideration.
Shades of me
Set in time and place.
On the Danforth, Toronto, Ontario, Canada.
Leonard Cohen mural on Crescent Street.
Benelux for great beer.
Leonard Cohen mural as seen from the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts.
A very fine red wine at Bouillon Bilk.
Don’t feel sorry for me
When I sit alone at the bar
I’ve my beer and my thoughts
And a whole lot more.
Writers are used to reflective thinking
Isolated but no less sure of themselves
And the space they occupy.
And a whole lot more.
Buy me a cask ale
And you might discover
A whole lot more.
Perhaps, a Hughey’s Gold?
(Said a voice from off stage.)
With some considerable feeling.