I am snuggled up here on the settee with Tasha curled up next to me keeping me warm. I have now lived within the perimeter of this motorhome for nearly two weeks now. I thought I would go stir crazy, but I have not. I owe this to the fact that we have been able to stay at some breathtaking venues, and the view is fantastic and ever changing.
Coming down with this dreaded flu which overtook my body with aches, fever and a cough, has been the worst illness experience I have had in more years than I can count. I could have avoided it had I taken Oscillococcinum by Boiron when it first started. I swear by this homeopathic remedy (you can buy it online and in many drug stores/chemists) and best of all it has no side effects. For those of you out there who are wont to recommend a flu shot I suggest you do some homework around this. Even the circular that comes with the popular flu vaccination by GlaxoSmithKline tells you it hasn’t been proven to be efficacious. Plus the shot contains the deadly highly toxic metal, mercury, one of the LAST things you want injected into your body.
Anyway, off the soapbox and back on track reporting the week that was—Paul’s birthday, 2nd April, found us at a luxury motorhome site in Hereford that was a wonderful spot. After two nights there we moved on to the village of East Quontoxhead on the north shore of Devon. There is a magnificent castle-like church there, but other than a collection of beautiful thatched houses, nothing else.
Paul is simply incredible how he threads his way down these narrower-than-narrow roads flanked by tall hedgerows. As the evening was wearing on, we needed a place to stay, and a kind gentleman, Bob, invited us to stay in his car park. Upon awakening the next morning we found ourselves surrounded by small village life—horses clip-clopping along the road, neighbours meeting and talking, just a lovely slice of life.
The next day was glorious and sunny (albeit cold), and we decided to head back along the A39 towards Porlock (our favourite little toll road experience!), and make a stop for some coffee in Lynton. Paul was able to head down to the ocean, but I was still feeling poorly and stayed in Vespa (more about her later!) to get my needed rest.
We continued on the A39 towards Barnstaple where I had located a homeopathic chemist to get some needed supplies. We decided to give the A39 section that had caused us to choose another route due to the severity of the hairpin turn last week another go. Paul was amazing as he made it with ease. However, an easy onward journey up the hill was not to be ours. We came face to face with a large truck and had nowhere to go. Finally the kind gentleman moved over to the other side of the road and we were able to squeak by. We made a quick stop at a petrol station down the road and could smell the burning clutch. We continued on for a bit, but then decided it best just to pull over for a few minutes and let it cool off–wise choice!
When we arrived in Barnstaple, Paul magically pulled into a parking lot after spending a few frustrating moment navigating the town, and found he was just a short walk away from the chemist.
We continued on, as our destination for the night was one of my favourite little coast towns, the privately owned Clovelly. Paul had a great time exploring this village of cobbled stone streets which use only wooden sleds to haul everything to and fro. Once again, I was too weak and sick to enjoy this outing.
The next day we ended up not too far away at a delightful small farm which is not only the home of the lovely owners, Peter and Debbie, but also their magnificent free range chickens, goats, Shetland ponies and alpacas. Upon our departure Peter kindly handed us a carton of their eggs which ranged in colour from white to blue-green to deep shades of brown. Best eggs we’ve had yet!
The next day we headed down to another favourite spot of mine, Hartland Quay. Paul parked in a great spot overlooking the crashing waves and the behemoth rocks and I was in heaven. A lovely place to spend the night!
We then made our way to where we currently are, the sole occupants at a farm site except for the handful of parked and vacant caravans around us. Not the most glorious spot, but certainly does the job.
Yesterday, Saturday, I woke up and although felt weak, I was much better. The fever was gone and except for the persistent cough and weakness, I felt up to cooking breakfast and enjoying the day. I called our holistic doctor in London and his advice for the cough was to get the herb thyme and boil a teaspoon of it in some water and drink it. Doesn’t taste bad at all, and really works!
We needed to make a food shopping stop in Wadebridge, so off we went. I then suggested we head toward Port Quin and Port Isaac, just 20 minutes away. Paul agreed so we were off again. I must inject at this point that the weather was glorious—sunny with white puffy clouds giving it depth and interest. Still too cold for me to venture out, but at least I could enjoy the views from my copilot seat.
As we made our way down one of narrowest roads we’ve found ourselves navigating, we came to the National Trust gates for Doyden (check out this beauty of a mini-castle you can stay in!)—-unfortunately the road ahead was signed with a 25% grade and a sharp hairpin turn–a no-no for us. We asked a man coming through the gates if there was room enough to turn around and he assured us there was. Well this did not turn out to be the case as Paul came to a standstill in a small parking lot filled with parked cars. I knew he was focused on getting us out of there, while my attention was riveted to the Doyden Castle straight in front of us. This was where my favourite scene in Doc Martin was filmed on exactly the same kind of day!
After our attempts to turn around were thwarted, I planted myself in the back of the motorhome and talked Paul back down the drive to a place where we could turn around. What a rock star! His skill would make any coach driver proud!
We then continued on to Port Isaac where we found a parking spot overlooking the magnificent azure blue sea. We holed up for the afternoon and enjoyed our chicken sandwiches and scones and clotted cream—my first since arriving on UK soil. Yum!!
Let’s see what tomorrow has in store for us!
P.S. Getting back to the name Vespa–I chose this because the vehicle is a Fiat and the horn sounds just like a Vespa scooter! Don’t think Paul likes it much, but there you go—