So after my walk to Crackington Haven and my relaxing coffee I boarded the 595 towards Boscastle.
The bus was halfway up the hill when the engine faded and the driver said “We’re not going to Boscastle in this bus”. He reverse coasted the bus back down the narrow hill, through the sharp bend at the bottom and into the bus stop on the wrong side of the road (there being no pull in on the other side). Passengers disembarked, most throwing in the towel and getting on the bus ¾ of an hour later, going back the way they came. Two of us waited the two hours for the next bus to Boscastle to arrive. One lass because she had no choice and me because I’m a glutton for punishment.
My abbreviated visit to Boscastle was very enjoyable, a good walk around and the purchase of superfresh locally grown fruit and veg. The runner beans and strawberries had been picked only that morning.
Then there was this chap ….
less of a Character … and very much a Poser.
It was good to see that almost exactly 10 years on from the devastating flash flood the village is thriving. It’s a shame that a hundreds of years old cottage was too damaged to be repaired but it’s been rebuilt and a storm channel has been incorporated into the repaired river banks. Looking at it on this peaceful day it was almost impossible to believe it’s the same place the television cameras recorded the metres high torrent of water sweeping through relocating trees, all the cars from the car park and anything else that was unable to move out of the way (think the boxing day tsunami).
So … Friday, and it’s goodbye to Western Greyhound; I’ve loved your routes but not always your dilapidated buses (and one particularly irritable driver – you really need to get a different job mate). Goodbye too, to Cornwall. I’ve had a great time.
Hello North Devon, First Great Western and the Tarka Line, equally dilapidated (trains) but hopefully less incidents!
🙂 🙂 🙂