After a lazy morning we hauled up the anchor and set off for Fowey. I can’t recommend this anchorage enough. Smoke drifted across the shoreline from distant camp fires, and the silence was exactly what we needed after Falmouth. We anchored for free, we caught my dinner for free, it finally felt like Excalibur was starting to pay her way!
Once again there was no wind, and ironically what little wind there was had to be of course blowing from the east. Our cunning plan to sail back east using the predominate westerlies was of little use to us now. Half way to Fowey I realised we should have gone to Penzance instead of sticking to our rigid plan.
The sun was shining and we motored along the coastline to Fowey, trying our luck at fishing once again as we went. This time we wanted to catch bass, a bigger fish than our mackerel friends (I’d had my fill of mackerel). So first we caught a mackerel to use as bait to catch the bass. Vegetarian Trina will hate me for showing this, but she gutted and beheaded our mackerel for bait. I’m so proud of her 🙂
We popped the head on one of my bigger lures and threw it over. After a while something got hold of the line, and with the rod bent right over the line snapped. Part of the rod needed fixing and we were told the line could snap unless we had it fixed. So I think we must have caught something big. I hope it wasn’t a dolphin.
Fowey is pretty nice. The white cross at the entrance was an ominous sign we thought, but later found out it it’s known as the Punches Cross. Legend has it, is where “Jesus, Joseph of Arimithea, and Pontius Pilate and their retinues” are reputed to have landed whilst visiting their “Mining Interests” down here in Cornwall. Joseph was Jesus’ uncle and had been his guardian since Joseph of Nazareth had died.
We rafted up to a boat owned by a lady called Val, who’d sailed around the UK.
The evening was pretty uneventful it has to be said. We rowed over to the other side for a drink, the ferry man kindly told us our tender would be washed away when the tide rose, so we moved it promptly and thanked him for his advice. On our row back, the harbour master sped past, blue lights flashing, chasing a motorboat that was speeding causing a bit of a stir. He later came back and apologised with a smile. Again, the Cornish hospitality far exceeds anywhere else I’ve been.
Dinner was at a pub called the King of Prussia. I recommend the fish stew.
We saw an advert for a sea shanty knees up for the following day, and decided to stay another day for the beer and music festival.
Fowey, pronounced foy is a busy place, so we had to get off the pontoon by 10am, which is fine because the town comes alive with parents and their kids who like to go crabbing down on the river. Not the best place to relax if that’s what you’re looking for.
We bounced from once mooring buoy to another after some instructions from the harbour master.
We had a lazy day, reading, messing around with the banjo, and eating very large pasties. We stuck our nose in at the RNLI gig, but decided to go back later when it would be under full swing.
That night we listened to sea shanty bands singing songs of mining, Cornwall (Eden) and more mining. The Cornish are fiercely proud of their land, almost as if it’s a separate country. Rightly so says we, it’s another world, stunning scenery and friendly people. Down in Cornwall, London feels a world away.
Here’s some songs from the night. Bury me is the unofficial national anthem of Cornwall, and is pretty darn catchy. We all sang along, had a bit of a dance, and skipped down the hill back to the boat after too many local ciders of questionable strength.