Tuesday, October 2nd. Monday, still in Tintagel. Not as magical as we’d hoped, still, we’re not sleeping outside on twig cots, as they would have done back in the day – and by back in the day I mean 10 or 1100.

We walked toward the coastal cliffs to look at King Arthur’s castle across the rocky inlet. Too bad the experience is marred by the constant racket of the helicopter flying back and forth with materials to build a new pedestrian bridge.

We walked along the ridge, downhill to go uphill, around a flat meadow only to burst out onto a craggy cliff overlooking the sea. We walked to an ancient church, modest in comparison to the cathedral in Salisbury, but still a stone church, built in 10 or 1100, in continuous use to this day, posters in the entrance advertising daycare, and craft classes.

The graveyard was stunning to look at. We walked along paths no wider than Dave’s armspan. One of the more beautiful pieces of vegetation were deep purple Hydrangeas.

I’m mixing my days up at this point because I think I already wrote about this.