THE GREAT BEYOND
The short, sharp and steep ascent out of Mousehole witnesses both my heartrate and the hotel hash browns soar skywards
The Garmin breadcrumb trail says proceed, the crumbled route map ratifies, but the Garro Lane residential cul-de-sac feels exactly that. I trust the technology, modern and ancient, and ride gingerly onwards to enter a cycling Narnia. I don’t see a soul for an hour of riding, all alone bar squirrels, the sound of skylarks and the vibrations of my Duolingo app telling me I’m about to be relegated to the Obsidian league. I’m just 200 miles from my Bristol home, but even the place names – Predannack, Ogo-Dour Cove and Asparagus Island – suggest I’m half a world away.
A maze of clifftop gravel tracks propels me close to Kynance Cove, where a detour to the Atlantic shore finds my dad is waiting with a pasty that could feed a family of 12. This is most definitely Cornwell, then, only not as I’ve ever known it.
