Eden Project

One day we visited the Eden Project, which was our main reason for travelling to Cornwall.

The idea of such a project came from Tim Smit, who was responsible for recovering the Lost Gardens of Heligan, which was quite close to the Eden Project.   It was built in a former china clay pit.  The Project aims to visually tell the story of man's dependence on plants.   

The biodomes, are made of hundreds of hexagonal and pentagonal, inflated, plastic cells supported by steel frames.   One dome emulates a tropical environment, and the other one emulates a mediterranean environment.   The domes are filled with plants collected from all around the world.

It took over two years to build the domes, and they were opened in 2001.   The outside gardens have all been landscaped, and are a feature in themselves.

All ready to go, to discover what lies within those white plastic like mounds.  Slugs?

The first wooden sculpture.    In the shape of a fairground carousel, we thought.

As it was half term, there were activities for children, under the guise of developing survival skills.
Jackson and Isabel throwing the 'crossed sticks', which were two small sticks crossed, and tied together with string.   The aim was to hit the balloons, which represented animals.

The first building we entered was called The Core, which is the latest part to be added to the project.   It was opened in 2005.   It contains classrooms and exhibits and information about the relationship between people and plants.

The photograph below is of a sculpture called 'The Seed'.  It is in fact a very large egg-shaped stone sculpture.   I am not sure what happened when I photographed it.  Squashed it somewhat.  Interesting.

This sculpture below is made up of the electrical waste that is produced by one household.

Although we did not manage to walk around all the outside gardens, those in front of the biodomes were impressive, even in the bareness of winter.

The use of metal and wood in garden was very creative.

Living fences and cubby houses and tunnels.   A perfect playground for children in summer time, when everything is leafy.   Now of course they are just wooden twigs, but the starkness of the outlines was interesting too.

Inside the Mediterranean dome.   Perfectly warm and comfortable.    South of France and Adelaide, South Australia.     We really liked being in here.   Familiar territory.   And the planting of Eucalyptus trees just outside one corner of the dome, added to the realism.

The Var area in Provence.    Cork oaks, and the plants, including lavender, which we see when we walk in the hills around Camping Manjastre.

The Tropical Dome.    This environment really challenged Jackson and Isabel, and they declared that they would not like to live in the tropics.    It was very hot, and very humid.   It reminded us of Malaysia, without the huge spiders and centipedes.  Perhaps they could put some in there, to add to the realism.   There were tropical birds.

A photograph of a traditional Malaysian house, so familiar.   We watched a water filtration demonstration while in there, which was very interesting.    We had previously watched a demonstration, at one of the streams, on how to catch a fish, using a Tshirt.    No doubt very important, if one is caught out in the wilds somewhere.

A tropical scene.

There was a walkway high up in the dome, with amazing views.  But extremely hot.  Some of it was closed due to the high temperatures.

This was a chance for Jackson and Isabel to use a blow pipe.

And finally back to the crossed sticks for another go at hitting the balloons.

Then it was a quick look at the gift shop, plus a look at the very interesting visual display about what would happen to us, if there were no plants.  Jackson and Isabel said that it was a bit 'over the top' and too realistic. No doubt this was the idea of the display.  

Altogether a very interesting day, and well worth the wait to see the project for ourselves.  

Porfell Wildlife Park and Sanctuary

One afternoon, while in Cornwall, we decided to visit the Porfell Wildife Park and Sanctuary near Bodmin, which is home to domestic and exotic animals.   It was once a farm, but changed into a wildlife park and sanctuary about twenty four years ago.   

Our first impressions were not very positive, as the buildings were very dilapitated, and haphazardly placed behind the main house.    I think extensions were just tacked on as more animals were acquired.

    

However the setting was quite spectacular, as it was in a valley, in the most beautiful countryside.  It must be glorious in the summer time, when the trees are fully in leaf. 

The animals were very well cared for, and they all had heated rooms to shelter in, as well as plenty of space outside.   It was obvious that care of the animals was a high priority in this park.

I forgot to write down the name of the animals.   But these ones were having lots of fun running around poles, and flitting in and out of hanging baskets.

And this one was showing off.   Or watching us through the glass.

Some type of giant hare from South America.

A hen, I know, but most unusual markings.   Of course I did not take notice of the name of the breed.

Ah, I know this one.   A wallaby, with its winter coat on.

More mysterious animals, soaking up the warm sunshine.

There was also a farm area, with donkeys, ponies, sheep and pigs.   Jackson and Isabel loved it all, as children do, and spent much time watching and commenting on the animals, and their habitats, plus patting all the farm animals.    A really worthwhile visit.

After we tried to wipe most of the mud off our shoes, we got back into the car, and drove through very narrow lanes, made deep through hundreds of years of use.   Due to the deepness of the lanes, and the high hedges, we could only glimpse the top of the hills as we drove along.   But we enjoyed the solitude.   Finally we arrived at the River Fowey, where we caught a small ferry across to the township of Fowey.   Very picturesque.

And then it was off again, on a slow and busy road, back to our caravan, by Truro.   Our holiday home on wheels.

A lovely afternoon out, in warm sunshine.

Truro - the town centre

Truro began as a Celtic village, then the Normans built a castle there.   Later on it became a small but busy medieval town and the centre of the tin and coipper mining area.  Wool also became an important industry too.    Truro initially had its own small port, and then later on transported tin, copper, wool and hides on barges to be loaded onto ships in the port of Falmouth.   After the decline in the mining industry, the town still remained its importance as a market town.

But progress has caught up with Truro, and many of its speciality shops have been replaced by national chain stores.    This is the most noticeable difference about the town, in the last twenty years since I visited Truro.   We stopped there, in 1994 with my sister, Margaret, in order to do a little shopping, and I remember a bustling street, full of small shops.   But now the chain stores were definitely there, and the town centre was not a bustling place, although there were not the usual signs of poverty; the thrift shops, the betting shops and the loan shops.   Or maybe they were hidden away in the side streets.   However on the edges of the town, there were four enormous supermarkets, plus the other assorted huge chains, that tend to take the custom away from the town centre. 

Truro is still a lovely town, inside the town centre, and away from the traffic on the busy roads circling the town.       

Truro Cathedral is magnificent, and its spires can be seen as one drives around the edge of the town.   Interestingly the church is fairly new, having been started in 1880 and finished in 1910.  

Although quite plain inside, it was still very impressive.   Excellent light came through the windows, which is why I was able to get such a good photograph.

It was a pleasure to walk around the mostly pedestrianised streets.

Not a long enough visit, but so pleased we made the effort to park our car in the supermarket carpark, and walk through the tunnel into the much more pleasant town centre.

Falmouth and a little history

On a lovely sunny day we drove 20 miles south from Truro to Falmouth, in order to visit the Maritime Museum.    Falmouth is a port on the river Fal, and is the largest port in Cornwall.   It is still a cargo port as well as being popular with cruise ships.   The town has 26,767 residents living there. It is, of course, popular with tourists, so I guess it is primarily a tourist resort now.       

During the 18th and 19th century the Falmouth Packet Service operated from here, the purpose being to carry mail to and from Britain's growing empire.   As it was the most south-westerly harbour in Great Britain, it was extremely busy as a cargo and naval port.  

Falmouth was also the departure point for most Cornish people who emigrated to other countries, especially after the collapse of the tin and copper mines, when there were 6,000 requests for emigration tickets..   By 1901 over 259,000 Cornish people had left Cornwell.   This included quite a few of my relatives, who left the villages of Probus and Tregoney, both near Truro.   My  great, great grandmother, a widow with nine children, emigrated to New Zealand in 1873.   Such bravery, but there was probably not a lot for them in Cornwall, and as other relatives and friends also emigrated, they were not on their own.   Most of the family and friends were miners, or in related industries.    The family names were Ellis and Blackler, which I believe were old Cornish names.   

A large number of miners emigrated to South Australia and started copper mining in Moonta and it was interesting to visit the town last January and see the buildings, old mine and industries that were established during the late 1800s.   Interestingly Moonta has the best Cornish pasties.

I forgot to take the family information with me, so did not visit the two villages, although we passed through them on trips out from Truro, but it may have been interesting to stop, and look around.  So much has changed of course.

 

The old Port of Falmouth, redeveloped with chain restaurants (photograph below) and a Maritime Museum (first photograph above).  In the 1800s there would have been no Pizza Express to have a pizza feast before embarking on a sailing ship.   

The museum contained many small boats and yachts, which Jackson and Isabel found really interesting.

How they would have loved being out on water on this jet ski.

A lovely cubby hole for Isabel, but not bobbing around on a rough sea.

Coin in the slot mini yachts.   They had a lot of fun trying to manouvre them around, via the remote controls.

There was an exhibition about Shackleton, plus a film about the ill fated expedition to the South Pole.  Both Jackson and Isabel had read a book about Shackleton, and had done some study about the expedition at school, so they were very interested in the display.

There was also a display about a sailor, Tony Bullimore, whose yacht capsized in the southern ocean.   He spent five days lying in the keel of the upturned yacht before he was rescued.   He had made a video of his ordeal, which Isabel especially did not like.  No doubt turned her right off sailing.

The upstairs part contained a few historical displays, including lists of all the ships that entered and left the port during the 1800s.   A pity I did not bring the names of the ships my relatives left on, when emigrating to New Zealand.

Walter and I bought Cornish pasties for lunch, for us, which were passable, I thought.   Jackson and Isabel chose to eat at McDonalds which was conveniently located on the road out of Fulmouth.  Modern children.

A trip to Cornwall, with caravan and grandchildren

Last Sunday we left Bexley, together with Jackson and Isabel, and started the long drive, while towing a caravan, to Truro, in Cornwall.    It was a very slow but sedate drive.   Nothing more than 60 mph.   No passing other vehicles in the fast lane.  Just a gradual passing of vehicles in the slow lane, no doubt with everyone behind us, feeling very frustrated.  Caravan drivers!   After negotiating quite heavy traffic on the M25, we then took the M4, and M5, until we arrived at the dual lane highway, the A30, which took  us to the turnoff into Truro, eight hours in all. 

We stayed in the most fantastic campsite, expensive for sure, at nearly £30 a day.  The grounds were spacious and well laid out and we had our own tap, and grey water waste outlet. The facilities, the best we have ever encountered, contained separate toilets with handbasins, and shower rooms with toilets and handbasins.   And they were all large and wonderfully heated.   Around the very large site there was a dog walking path, with trees bordering the path on both sides.   The photograph below, looking towards our caravan, was taken from the path.    

Cornwall itself?   I was again brought back to reality with a jolt.   Forget about any romantic ideas of Cornwall, based on stories, films and travel shows.    This part of Cornwall, contains haphazard developments spreading out over the area, linking villages and towns together, with carparks, huge supermarkets, and heavy traffic.   Although it was half term, it was winter time, and still the place seemed to be heaving with people.   Forget about visiting in summer time.  Forget about any time really.  I feel a bit sorry for the people, born in Cornwall, as it must hurt to see their area being changed beyond recognition, by the tourists who continually flock there.

The plus side of being in Cornwall, was the warmer weather, with flowers out, way ahead of the eastern parts of England.   Camellias and daffodils were in bloom.    Magnificent.

We had a lovely few days there, and the caravan was very warm and comfortable, with so much more room than the motorhome.   Two adults and two children fitted in very well, with room to spare.    Jackson and Isabel slept on the couches, although they complained about the buttons digging into their sides as they tried to sleep, so must remember to bring some overlays next time.   We tried the oven each night, and became very adept at cooking puff pastry in different dishes, the result of a new caravan cookbook from Aaron and Kylie.   The downside was the amount of gas the oven used, as we went through a full bottle of gas. Perhaps having an oven is an expensive luxury in a caravan.

The even longer trip back was made in heavy rain, but the car with the caravan sitting tightly behind, never missed a beat.   The positive side of pulling a caravan, is that one travels sedately, without zipping in and out of lanes.    Passenger comfort is great, with two children being able to read and use mobile devices in the back, without feeling carsick.   No swaying car.

The top of the M4, where it meets the M25 was slow going, as was the M25 on the north side.    But we did appreciate the new speed restrictions, with cameras, as people drove slowly and sensibly in the rain and heavy traffic.   Although it was slow, at least the traffic was moving, and not just a giant car park.

All went well on the journey until we hit a very large and unseen pothole by the junction of the M11, which caused the handle of the jockeywheel to fall off, and losened the electrical cord.   Well at least we think it losened the electrical cord, because it fell off at the tolls, damaged and unusable, so we limped back slowly, for the last few miles, using only the car brakes.    Thank goodness for having a very good tow car.

As we drove through the gates into our storage area, we breathed a sigh of relief.    It was dark of course, being 7.30 at night.   And still raining heavily.   But not to worry.   We knew what had to be done, quickly, and we had two willing helpers as well.   Walter unhitched the caravan, and I got the motormover ready, with Jackson and Isabel ready to put steadies down and do all the other jobs.

Then the socket fell off the motor mover handle, into the biggest and dirtiest puddle, under the caravan.  We tried to push the caravan forward, so that I could retrieve the socket, but the caravan was firmly stuck in the deep pot holes.   Walter very calmly hitched up the caravan to the car again, so that he could move the caravan forward, in order that I fish around in the giant puddle, to find the missing socket.

So with cold hands, and knees, I finally got everthing sorted, and Walter directed the caravan back towards the hedge, hitting a branch along the way.  Luckily no damage there.  Jackson lowered the steadies, Isabel emptied the caravan of the important items, and Walter and I put the locks on.   Finally we were on the way to Bromley, where a delicious spagetti bolognaise dish, wine and non alcoholic beer awaited us.   Plus Emma, Steve and the dogs of course.   Good to be home.

The muddy puddle, photographed the next day when it was light.

 

We are still very happy with our caravan, the extra space inside is a real bonus, and towing it has proved to be very easy, due to the Al-ko chassis and the anti sway device we had installed on the caravan.   We do miss the flexibility of a motorhome, in that we always had our lunch and lounge room on board with us, as we travelled around.    But the extra space, plus a lovely car to drive around in, certainly makes up for the nomadic lifestyle of the motorhome.

The Dog Walker

I know where I am in the pecking order of the family dogs.  I am the dog walker.  None of them look anxious that they are going to be left behind when I put on my coat.  They all wag their tails and look at me expectantly.   A walk.  Great.  We are ready.

So off we go, down the road to the woods, and no leads needed either.   They, like all the other dogs in the woods, love the freedom.  

I have lived here for twenty two years and have always walked in the woods, or been horse riding on the bridle paths.  The woods are beautiful at all times of the year; the starkness of winter, the fresh growth in spring, the dappled green of summer and the brown and gold of autumn.   But now that I have been walking Poppy, Bobbi and Jezzie in there, the woods take on a whole new meaning.

I now meet and talk to other dog walkers, and discuss dogs, and interestingly, travel, as they often ask about my accent.  The dogs spend the time running around and having a good sniff, while I talk.  

I have started to recognise the different owners; the keen and very muddy runner with two greyhounds and a small dog, the woman with eight dogs running everywhere, the woman wearing earpbones while supervising four big barking dogs, the very fit retiree running along and throwing a ball to an equally fit dog, and so the list goes on.   I have only once met the man calling for his two lost dogs.  I hope he found them.

I am amazed at the number of people who own three or four dogs.  Houses around here are not overly large.   How do they keep their houses clean?  I bet they do not have cream carpets. 

Poppy, Bobbi and Jezzie having a good sniff.   Great smells in this spot. The three of them run around together very happily, although Bobbi and Jezzie do not follow Poppy into the water.   They are not the type of dogs who like getting their feet wet or muddy, let alone jumping into a ditch full of muddy cold water.

The gorse beginning to flower.   A sure sign of spring.   As I have been walking in the woods every day for the past four weeks, I have been able to observe the changes as spring approaches.

The two wooden Saxon figures, in the distance, ready to stop the Vikings from entering Kent.  I must admit I find this part of the woods a little erie. The figures look very realistic from a distance.   I quickly walk past this spot, even with the dogs.

Finally we arrive back home.  Wash time.  Two buckets of warm water, cloths and towels.  But not always appreciated by the three dogs.  Sorry girls, but we have a cream carpet, and mud does not look good on it.

Now all three are sound asleep, happily dreaming of their next walk.  All I can hear as I am writing this, are contented snores.

Snow

I am currently sitting in the conservatory, with the sun streaming in through the windows.   The sun has risen enough in the sky to shine above the large shrubs in the back garden.  So we have sunshine all day, except when it is overcast of course.  And on those days one still feels like hiding under the duvet all day.  But today it is a glorious day, a little chilly outside, but a day for walking and basking in the sunshine, in the conservatory.

Last week it snowed.   I love the magic of snow, the whiteness against the steely grey skies.  I know that snow is inconvenient as it disrupts life, the streets clog up with stationary cars, trains stop running because the snow is too wet and the pavements become slippery when the snow ices up.   But there is something about a good fall of snow that causes great excitement, and we all want to go out and walk in it, and children love building snowmen and sliding downhill on whatever they can find.   

On the day in question last week I drove to Bromley early in the morning to collect Bobbi and Jezzie, and to take Isabel to school.  The roads had been gritted so no problems driving there in our lovely car with its heated seats.

Emma had just left for work, leaving behind a snowless spot on the road.

But sadly for me, but happily for many, the snow only lasted a day, unlike other areas in the UK.  Today it would appear that there will be no more snow this season.

And the gorse is beginning to flower in the woods.

Decisions - travel time is looming ahead.

Decisions, decisions and more decisions.  Three countries in five weeks.    In a car and towing a caravan, no longer dashing around in a smallish motorhome.   Where does one start!

This morning we made up a rough and very broad plan.   And it looks like we will be able to see the most important parts, for us that is. Not enough of Denmark though, but we are more likely to return there, as it is closer.

After we wave goodbye to our Netherlands' family we will travel through the top of Germany, and into Denmark with a couple of stops to get us started on the journey.    We will island hop over into Sweden, via the tunnels and bridge, after paying very expensive tolls.   After that it is a reasonable drive to Stockholm, with stops, and then we follow the road to Oslo.    From Oslo we will drive to the south western part of Norway for a look at the fjords, which was the original aim of the trip, before we decided to have a look at the southern part of Sweden too.    We aim to find a camping ground, which is reasonably central and then travel by car or ferry to the different fjords and places in the area.   After that we will return to Oslo, then follow the western coast down through Sweden, with the final destination being Copenhagen, before returning to the Netherlands.   It all sounds reasonable on paper of course.

We will have to load up the car with all our sparkling water, non alcoholic beer, wine and dry and tinned food, as these are very expensive countries.   We need to save our  money for ferries and museums and for some dining out too, at lunchtimes.

And we must remember to take all our stylish clothes.    According to the Lonely Planet, people are very well dressed in these countries.  It is important not to stand out too much.    

Mind you, it is more likely to rain, and we will have to wear raincoats all the time.   We still have strong memories of our waterlogged trips through central Europe in June 2013 and through Germany and France in June 2012.

Exciting times ahead!  

Very Cold Dogs

Very cold dogs, and a very cold dog walker too I might add.   And the dog walker is without her hot water bottle, due to the dogs taking it over.  Such is life here today.  Sacrifices.

Bobbi and Jezzie happily snoozing in the photograph below. after a very long walk in the woods.  They came back tired and very cold, so after a wash in the bucket, warm water of course, they settled on the couch with a lovely hotwater bottle, wrapped in a towel.  Bliss, they must have told themselves, and well earned after the rigorous walk that Oma took us on.

 Not only was the walk rigorous, it was bitterly cold, and when the photograph below was taken, beginning to snow heavily.  Not that the snowflakes show in the photograph.  All the tracks and paths were very muddy, which hampered our progress, and made the dogs' feet very cold.   These two little beauties are not built for the cold outdoors.  They try to avoid every puddle and every patch of mud, which is now near impossible, out in the woods.

Unfortunately for Jezzie and Bobbi, we are just about to go out for another walk in the biting cold, but to the playing fields this time.

Fresh air and toilet breaks, girls.  Sorry.

The motorhome - sold

Our motorhome is gone, sold.  With us no more. A great sense of relief, as we can now move on.      

The roof was glued down by the motorhome repairers, and we collected it, stored it for a few days, and then sold it.

Perhaps we could have sold it for more money had we waited and sold it privately.   But there were a large number of motorhomes for sale, so a very competitive market.   It would have taken a considerable amount of effort and some cost, and we still had to pay storage fees and insurance cover.  And the beautifully detailed motorhome would start to lose its glossy sparkling look.    So we sold it to a large motorhome dealer, who gave us a really good price for it.     And off it went.

We felt a little sad afterwards, as it was an end of an era, no more living a nomadic life in a motorhome.  There is no way we can ever afford to buy another motorhome, as they are very expensive items, both the initial cost and to maintain.    But we have had lots of fun, travelling in our two motorhomes, the Millers Lakes Winnipeg and the previous one, a Chausson.    Great memories.

So it is now a new era, travelling sedately in a car and towing a caravan.   Looking forward to it.