We went to stay by the River Fal, which flows south from Truro to the port of Falmouth.
This is where we stayed. It looked out over the creek, and the coast path was just to the left.
There was a small rocky mooring point just next to the garden, but Pp voted it too slippery: this is the high tide view, the low tide was maybe ten feet lower, so there was a long weedy drop off the edge of the rock down to the shale beach at the bottom. He had a point.
Instead, we went to the pub around the corner, had a meal and asked if they would mind us using their beach. They said yes.
They also served Rosie Roo with a sausage very artfully presented. I'm not sure she really appreciated the side salad.
Low tide on Restronguet Creek. I love cloud-reflections, but it wasn't quite this still most of the rest of the holiday, although it did get warmer.
A Victorian letterbox, painted gold to commemorate the Olympic gold metal won by Ben Ainslie, because he lived in the holiday cottage that we rented when he was growing up. I can see why he ended up as a prize-winning sailor, given the amount of excellent sailing all around.
Though, an odd thought to contrast with this:we went into Falmouth one evening, to see the Tolkien movie (verdict: good, not great), and came back after dark. And it was truly astonishing how many of the cottages and houses along the creek were completely dark. They are all holiday homes or second homes now: people don't live here full-time much any more. Which is nice for us, because we could have a lovely holiday here, of course.
We paddled our way down the river to Mylor Creek, and on the way back, we met two swans behaving... somewhat inelegantly. Their flailing legs made me laugh so much.
Uncharacteristically, I woke up very early one day to find there was a rather fabulous sunrise.
There was much painting of miniature figures (inside, by Pp, who does not Do Sun) and of paintings, by me. Rosie just lounged around being Artistic in her poses.
I think this was probably the day after we did a Really Long Walk, after which Rosie adamantly refused to walk at all the next day. She's getting older and not so energetic as she once was. Still, I think she had a good time. It was bluebell season, and there were some lovely walks going downstream from Restronguet Weir towards Mylor. Not so pleasant going upstream : there is the coastpath, but every single gate or exit from it seemed to be festooned with 'private!' 'No entry!' signs to the point where even walking along the main path you felt like you were intruding a bit. I really started to appreciate the people who had put up signs saying 'footpath' to show where it went, rather than 'private!' to tell you that you shouldn't go there and were unwelcome.
Anyway, this was one of the lovely downstream paths by Mylor Creek, surrounded by a fabulous display of bluebells.
Next time we took the canoe out, we decided to follow the Fal, crossed the Carrick Roads, and headed upstream, past the Very Expensive Houses on Restronguet Point, with their long gardens stretching down to the river. (Probably there were 'Private!' signs on the other side, but not so many on the water side)
The river is much less muddy than the Tamar, I think the underlying banks are mostly stone, and once you get past the Very Expensive houses, the banks are lined with short, gnarled oaktrees growing in an open woodland. We looked out for kingfishers, but had no luck seeing any this time.
However, just as we thought we had come to a peacefully deserted part of the river, we rounded a corner, and discovered the King Harry Ferry, a chain-ferry across the river. I've never canoed past a chain-ferry before!
But the ferry looked quite small compared to THIS:
Which we decided must be carrying china clay from the clayworks at St Austell. It was HUGE. Well, huge if you are paddling past it in a canoe, anyway. Fortunately, it wasn't moving.
At long last we paddled back to our creek. The canoe is positioned here on the only road that leads to the holiday cottage, which leads across the beach. Well, it leads to the beach, then you drive on the beach and up the slipway:
We were cut off at high tide!
I tried to paint that lovely morning view through the trees that I photographed at sunrise, though I did it from the photo, since I wasn't up to painting that fast at 6am.
Here's the final version:
While we were away, the cats were being fed by a catsitter.
We were a little alarmed, because she saw Fankil on the Sunday, and not at all since. We had left him inside the house, but we were a bit worried he had got out (the catflap was open, but Fankil so far had not shown any sign of being able to use it). However, as soon as we got home and opened the french doors, he came marching down the garden, ate a good meal and then slept all night under our bed, which made us feel very pleased. He clearly recognised us!