3^rd June 1999

Crows-an-Wra - Carnon Downs, near Truro, via Lizard Point

The Statistical Bit:

I woke at about 7am to the sound of steady rain on my tent. Maybe an early start isn't all it's cracked up to be, so I decided to sleep on for a while. I tend to sleep badly in tents anyway, so I was still rather tired. Come eight o'clock there was little point in carrying on the pretence of sleeping, so I got up, rain or no rain. It was still drizzling when I traipsed across the campsite to the shower, but stopped while I was in there.

The showers were lovely and hot, and allegedly gave about 6 minutes of water per 20p coin inserted in the meter. In fact, like most coin-operated showers, they had one of these sophisticated sensors which can tell when you have almost rinsed off all the soap and promptly cuts off the water. This invariably necessitates a trip across the cold shower block to the inconveniently-situated meter to purchase another 6 minutes' worth of hot water when 15 seconds would suffice. At least this campsite was all but deserted, so the cubicle was still free when I got back to it.

My next stop was the on-site shop, where I had planned to buy some breakfast. The combination of a poor selection of bread and the likes, and the availability of cooked breakfasts in the adjoining café clinched it for me - what better way to start the day than with the Full Monty? Of course, while I was in the café it started raining again. So my tent, which had been drying nicely in the wind, was back at square one. I'd forgotten to bring a biro for my diary, so I asked the guy in the shop if they sold any. He said no, but I could have one of their souvenir pens. I made a mental note: when the pen runs out, I go home - after all, it would be symbolic and all that, wouldn't it. (Just as well that I didn't stick to this plan, or I would have gone home after Tewkesbury, having done just 380 miles!)

The rain had stopped again (it was going to be one of those days, I could tell). So I dried the fly sheet with my little paktowel (bought for washing up, but much better for this job) and prepared my bags. Down came the rain again. Oh, sod it, if I wait till the rain stops I'll never get to Scotland. So I kitted up in my waterproofs and started loading the bike. The rain stopped again. So I quickly dried the tent and took it down before the clouds could change their minds. I finally wheeled Mercury up the slope to the exit at 11.10. The cheerful Geordie site manager came out to see me off. "I can see you're keen" he said, looking at his watch. Cheeky bugger.

The journey started well enough. No more rain for the time being, a strong tailwind (you won't be reading about many of these before Orkney in this diary) and then the first massive descent, down the Hill from Hell that I'd crawled up the evening before. I was still nervous of Mercury's loaded handling, let alone my packing skills, so I braked steadily down this hill, limiting myself to 39.5mph. A new record for me on any bike, let alone on this one. Navigation on this stretch of road was easy - I was retracing my steps to the station in Penzance. I could have gone the longer coast road, via Mousehole, but having been there a couple of years earlier I remembered how hilly the terrain was, so I passed on this pleasure, even if it was a more scenic route. 

Just outside Penzance I nearly came to grief. The A30 is a dual carriage way at this point, and there was a long queue approaching some traffic lights. I came up the centre between two lanes, but then had to stop as the passage was blocked. I put my left foot down as usual, which promptly skidded away - the combination of greater lateral pressure on account of the luggage and lack of grip due to my overshoes on greasy tarmac were nearly my undoing. Fortunately I somehow caught myself before laying down flat on my side or headbutting the car to my left! However, it taught me to be more careful, and resulted in a certain reluctance to wear my overshoes if I could in any way avoid it.

I got off the A30 as soon as possible, and took the minor road through Marazion, past St Michael's Mount. No time to stop and sightsee today, though, on account of my late start! The view from Marazion across the bay to Penzance, Newlyn and Mousehole is beautiful, with the monastery at St Michael's Mount rising high out of the sea on the foreground. The road climbed high out of Marazion, resulting in a long, slow crawl up to the A394 Helston road. This was a good road, wide, not too busy, and not undulating as sadistically as most Cornish roads. The road dipped sharply in towards Helston, but unfortunately at a cost - it rose equally sharply up the other side. I soon got accustomed to the rasp of my chain against my forward seat mount in bottom gear - surely a design flaw in the Vision? This was all I got to see of Helston, as I stayed on this ring road. I therefore can't pass further comment on the town.

My next port of call was the Lizard - not really on anyone's traditional End to End route, but somewhere I had never been before, and besides, I felt I might as well do the South-North of the British mainland while I was at it. The moment I turned onto the Lizard road the rain started once more. Was this really such a good idea? To be fair, it had been dry ever since I left the campsite, so it wasn't as bad as it sounded. There was a supposed cycle track alongside the road. Needless to say, I didn't use it. It was, frankly, unusable - badly signposted, with unclear access points, without priority over side roads, and on the wrong side of the road. No, thanks, I'll stick to the road. I did have a BMW decide try to shave my arm with his wing mirror as he crawled past me, but otherwise the road was fine. The rain increased the closer to the Lizard I got. The two motorcyclists from Land's End came up the other way and we waved as we passed each other - I guess that really was the last time I was going to run into them unless they had a serious problem!

Now if any of you ever decide to try to ride to the Lizard I have this advice to you: Don't. Unless you're after a decent pasty (see below). The road to the Lizard is as tortuous as the one to Land's End. Plus it rains a lot. Well, it did when I was there. Plus there's not much to see when you get there (especially in the rain). I whipped my goggles off my hat to protect my eyes from the driving rain, but one of the arms detached itself and landed in the road, getting run over before I could retrieve it. Fortunately it was OK though. I eventually got to the unattractive and unendearing village of the Lizard, and headed for the signposted Southernmost Point. The road, single track at this point, goes down, and down, and down. Shortly before the beach I pulled into a car park - this would have to do! The journey back up was a nightmare, with dim drivers deciding to block the road as they tried to work out who should give way to whom, parking in passing places and just generally getting in the way (a game also known as the School Run in urban centres).

Once back in the village I followed signs to Ann's Famous Pasty Shop (which I had never heard of, but which has rightly achieved fame now thanks to this diary). The pasties are indeed very good, and when Ann (or someone pretending to be Ann) found out I was doing the End to End she asked "For charity?" so I said yes and explained the Amnesty International deal. This prompted her to refund me the cost of my lunch, so it's only fair that I should publicise her shop. So here goes.

For the finest pasties around, head down to Ann's Famous Pasty Shop in the Lizard village.

Last Updated on 16 November, 2003