Day 3 - Treen to Chacewater (42 miles)
Apologies for the lack of photos today. It always seemed to be raining when something nice was happening! Here is a picutre of Treen to keep you going:
This was the first day our mileage was recorded by our odometer which, in true McCaig fashion, was fitted two days late. In what seemed to be becoming a recurring theme, day 3 kicked off at about 10am with a very steep hill. Cold legs and stomachs heavily laden with porridge aren't the best things to get you up such slopes but we managed. It was on this day we started to feel like we were getting stronger which was a great morale booster. Having taken the alternative route the previous day we decided to tackle the coastal road this time (mainly due to the knowledge that the steep bit would be downhill). Following this route we passed through the very cute Mousehole where a friendly postie told us the best Cornish Pasties to be had were in Marazion. This was, conveniently, just the other side of the bay, past Penzance. Anticipating hunger, we made straight for the promised pasty shop, arriving there at about midday. The postie was not wrong! We bought two 'small' pasties, each as big as your face. This left us wondering what the hell 'large' looked like! After gobbling them down whilst watching the tide come in around St Michaels Mount we hit the road in the direction of Truro.
After passing through Hayle, the heavens opened. We took refuge in the porch of Gwinear church waiting for it to pass. Jody said "bastard" whilst we were sat there which clearly angered the Lord. He saw fit to keep the rain pouring for the rest of the day! Realising this, we donned our ponchos and headed off once again. We passed through Camborne and Redruth where the landscape was peppered with relics of an industrial past. Chimneys could be seen all around attached to small, derelict buildings. These were engine houses which were used to pump water (either in or out, we're not sure) of tin mines. Despite the rain, we found the riding to be very enjoyable, apart from getting completely lost near St. Day and managing to come around in a 4 mile circle, oops!
Back on track, it was mind over matter (or 'robot legs' as Jody called them) that got us up the last long hill to Chacewater campsite. As we arrived, just before 6pm, the skies cleared and, our penance served, the sun came streaming through. To celebrate we headed into the village and had dinner in a pub before hitting the hay. The odometer read just over 70km! This is the furthest we had ever riden and, given the landscape and weather, felt like a huge accomplishment. We rule Cornwall.
Apologies for the lack of photos today. It always seemed to be raining when something nice was happening! Here is a picutre of Treen to keep you going:This was the first day our mileage was recorded by our odometer which, in true McCaig fashion, was fitted two days late. In what seemed to be becoming a recurring theme, day 3 kicked off at about 10am with a very steep hill. Cold legs and stomachs heavily laden with porridge aren't the best things to get you up such slopes but we managed. It was on this day we started to feel like we were getting stronger which was a great morale booster. Having taken the alternative route the previous day we decided to tackle the coastal road this time (mainly due to the knowledge that the steep bit would be downhill). Following this route we passed through the very cute Mousehole where a friendly postie told us the best Cornish Pasties to be had were in Marazion. This was, conveniently, just the other side of the bay, past Penzance. Anticipating hunger, we made straight for the promised pasty shop, arriving there at about midday. The postie was not wrong! We bought two 'small' pasties, each as big as your face. This left us wondering what the hell 'large' looked like! After gobbling them down whilst watching the tide come in around St Michaels Mount we hit the road in the direction of Truro.
After passing through Hayle, the heavens opened. We took refuge in the porch of Gwinear church waiting for it to pass. Jody said "bastard" whilst we were sat there which clearly angered the Lord. He saw fit to keep the rain pouring for the rest of the day! Realising this, we donned our ponchos and headed off once again. We passed through Camborne and Redruth where the landscape was peppered with relics of an industrial past. Chimneys could be seen all around attached to small, derelict buildings. These were engine houses which were used to pump water (either in or out, we're not sure) of tin mines. Despite the rain, we found the riding to be very enjoyable, apart from getting completely lost near St. Day and managing to come around in a 4 mile circle, oops!
Back on track, it was mind over matter (or 'robot legs' as Jody called them) that got us up the last long hill to Chacewater campsite. As we arrived, just before 6pm, the skies cleared and, our penance served, the sun came streaming through. To celebrate we headed into the village and had dinner in a pub before hitting the hay. The odometer read just over 70km! This is the furthest we had ever riden and, given the landscape and weather, felt like a huge accomplishment. We rule Cornwall.
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