Day eleven: Tintagel to Crackington Haven

I didn't even venture out of the hostel last night. Dinner was pasta and this awful sauce, purchased from the tiny hostel shop. It felt lovely just to hang out and try to go to sleep early. "Try" is the key word here as my circadian rhythms are in tune with the days and the days are long here. I don't sleep until after 10:30 and then awake every morning at 4:30.

Legend has it that King Arthur was conceived and born in Tintagel The remains of his castle are visible on this island.


Problem is, this castle was built in 13th century, so it post dates King Arthur by many, many centuries (but supposedly there is the remains of a celtic monastery close by which could date back to his birth). It was here that the legends of Merlin, Sir Lancelot and the knights of the round table, Camelot, the holy Grail etc began to take shape and have been written and expanded on ever since.

Merlin's cave is said to be down here:




I was going to strike off on my own again today but the thought of carrying my back pack was not a desirable one and anyway, walking with Mike had been fun yesterday. So I left the hostel and walked over to Mike's B&B. My back pack was transported with his and we spent another day in each other's company.

It seemed like a leisurely walk and we stopped for a long lunch in Boscastle, site of the 2004 floods. The flood actually took out this 13th century building but they built an identical one so we could have a cup of tea in it.





I was just carrying my little day pack, with rain stuff and two massive Cornish pasties that must have weighed 5 lb each.

Crackington haven was a tiny sea side hamlet with only one pub which was also the b&b. Mike stayed there for the night and at dusk I set up my tent close by and wished I was staying inside.



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