The day after our inaugural crossing to Fowey we were scheduled to return, this time in the morning in readiness for a guided walk. And this time the sun was out. What a difference! Same high car park, same stupendous view from the top – once again I failed to take a photograph. But I took some on the way down: through tantalizing gaps. Fowey – and Polruan – basking in Sunday morning sunshine.
Yesterday our ferry had whipped harsh words around my head as we sailed: cold, wet, grey, brooding. This morning our ferry laughed gaily and sang of buoys and boats, seagulls and sunshine.
We were joined on the crossing by a young family on holiday. One of the little boys was practically edible in his sweetness and could not wait to climb aboard the “fairy”. His joy and innocence were delightful.
The weather turned slightly as the morning wore on, but as we walked opportunities were plentiful to get photos of Polruan from across the water and of the estuary itself with its plethora of watercraft both moored and under sail.
The two waterside settlements have very different atmospheres. Polruan is quieter, less for the tourists and more for the community. Working traditions are evident in Polruan; there is a stronger sense of timelessness.
Fowey is perhaps the prettier: more colourful buildings, more “arty”. I won’t choose between them; I would not be comparing like with like. Both have their charm.
Fowey’s colourful waterfront beckoned us. There had been a wedding at the church when we travelled over yesterday: the bells ringing out across the water. Today we passed the church, bathed in sunshine and readying itself no doubt for Sunday services.
This morning’s visit was primarily to take the guided walk and follow in Daphne’s footsteps. But it also gave us a flavour of what Fowey can be. We took coffee in the Fowey Hotel, sitting on the terrace watching the activity below over rooftops and between chimney pots.
We watched people and dogs; shop fronts and cafes; quayside portrait artists and callers for boats trips.
And from the quayside, we saw Ferryside.
A minor matter to B and most other people, a massive thing for me. I lingered, with the camera zoom set to maximum, and took a shot or two.
Meanwhile, in his eagerness to get home, B was descending steps to board the boat …. to Mevagissey: a two-hour boat trip in the wrong direction. One day perhaps, B, but not today. Today, we’ll content ourselves with a five-minute homeward crossing on the fairy.