A short break wasn’t even on the cards and then I saw we could fly directly to Newquay from Stansted and within two hours it was all booked. Sadly, couldn’t do a full week because we were booked for Maverick on the Saturday of our planned return so we ended up with a four day trip. Still, the flight was very civilised and so much more relaxing for the driver, who would have otherwise have faced an arduous journey to get us there. Fistral Beach Hotel and Spa proved a sensible and comfortable choice, despite the now infamous and mysterious disappearance of the relief chef in the middle of service. And all those stories about Newquay being central to England’s surfing crowd – well judging by the number still involved at 9pm at night, definitely true! Fortunately, we were watching it all from the marginally more comfortable environment of the hotel brasserie!
On the taxi ride in Newquay looked a little disappointing, a tad reminiscent of a poor man’s Bondai Beach, but this proved somewhat illusory. We had a fine time and other than the first morning of light rain we were blessed with sunny and pleasant weather. The hotel was ideally placed for coastal walks in both directions. We went towards town to the Headland, called into the Headland hotel for coffee (Victorian inside and out, its grandeur immediately lead to Mrs. No Name questioning the choice of hotel, but querying the price soon disabused her of that notion).
Also walked to the Pentire Headland on a couple of occasions, finding quite a dramatic landscape half a mile from the hotel entrance. Managed to work in a pint and sandwich at the very busy Lewinnick Lodge. We also thrashed our way around a pitch and put, and despite being warned not to argue on the course, Mrs. No Name was ‘not counting that’ by her second shot on the first hole :-). I would at this point display a picture of said culprit but you know what Mrs. No Name feels about her anonymity so you’ll have to make do with one of me instead. All finished by an excellent coffee and pasty from the very friendly lady at the Kraken kiosk.
Went down to what turned out to be quite a picturesque town harbour, via a quick look around the town centre; a brief visit confirmed what seemed to be the highest number of surfing shops outside of Australia. Back on prettier ground it turned out to be a little surprising what you might find when leaning over the harbour wall, not sure who was the most disconcerted. Still, visited one of the many excellent pubs in the vicinity and, in the other direction, discovered the largely unspoilt and endless inlet (actually the River Gannel but very much not in evidence) the other side of Pentire Point. Even walked down (and back!) the 300 odd steps to sample the creek. The reward following the climb up was another superbly placed refreshment area (the Fern Pit Café and Ferry) for appropriate replenishment.
We also took a local bus trip down to Perranporth. Has to be said the public employee’s attitude was like a throwback to the 1970s but the town itself was very pleasant and we managed again to find a lovely eatery in which to indulge our respective predelictions for excellent French crepes and very local (as in on the premises) ice cream. We didn’t even miss the heroics of the Enland team in the World Cup!!
