And so began the second part of a an action-packed day. It seems a long time – and a lot of cycling – ago that I set off on my first Cardinal Spin, heading south west from Hathersage towards the South Wales coast at Porthcawl to take the world’s last remaining paddle steamer across the Bristol Channel, on the only day of the year that was possible. Despite glorious conditions that day, not unlike the weather I had today, things changed very dramatically the next day and forced me to temporarily abandon cycling in Cornwall. Now, three months later, I was back to complete what I started, getting off a train from Honiton (via Exeter) at Bodmin Parkway station, where I had bailed out – almost literally – in June. It was nice to see it in sunshine, rather than covered in puddles and the accumulating detritus of an Atlantic storm.
It had already been a busy day completing my SSW line in Beer, and reliving old family memories in Branscombe. But I wasn’t done yet. It was just after 6pm, and I had a valuable hour of daylight still available. Used well, that would bring my next coastal end point, Lizard Point, into range tomorrow, with time left to cycle from there along the coast to Penzance, another two hours or more away. From Penzance, I could get a train home the next morning. As is often the case with these endeavours, if one domino topples it can take several more with it, so I needed to get another 12 miles down the road to St Blazey tonight before it got dark.
Bodmin Parkway station is not in Bodmin, but it is on a spur of National Cycle route 3 that takes you directly into the National Trust owned parkland surrounding the stately home of Lanhydrock. This is a very beautiful place and was a fine start to my evening. I rode right up to the historic main buildings, and felt a bit like I shouldn’t be there; but all the people out for an evening stroll gave me a friendly greeting.
After that, I stuck to route 3 almost all the way. It directed me along the tiniest of Cornish lanes, hidden between traditional “stone hedges” ( which are essentially overgrown stone walls) up and down hills and into the lush Luxulyan valley. This was a magical place, like an elvish forest, with deep, river filled gorges and high trees. I twisted around and up, and then dramatically down, and suddenly it was over and I had arrived at the main road in St Blazey, just like that. Here I found my comfortable, affordable bed for the night and a tasty curry with a pint of Cornish beer in a restaurant just five minutes walk away. And that, really, was all I could ever wish for.
