Lots of one-laner roads again today. Google should put an “avoid narrow roads” option in the GPS app. But the ultimate one lane test was coming out of a small village, up a hill and with two guys painting a wall. One has his ladder planted on the pavement. We were down to 7/8 of a lane. One false move . . . Paint and painter everywhere. I Just got by the ladder when a van appears coming down the hill. I have to back up into a driveway, missing the ladder and the other painter. Then I get to go by the ladder again.
The main objective was to see a bit of Cornwall – the western and southern-most county of England – and visit what might be the John Libby ancestral home, Lanlivery. As mentioned yesterday, John Libby came from here or from over in Kent, born in 1609. In any event, getting there – a 1:30 drive over our usual narrow roads – gave us some great views of the Cornwall countryside. Lots of big, rolling hills, pastures and fields perched on the sides of the hills. There were fewer hedge rows blocking the view than in the Cotswolds.
Lanlivery is a small village, old parish church, of course, which we toured. Most churches are open without an attendant. This one advertised “walkers welcome.” But the loo was locked, taking the edge of their hospitality. Can’t call this one Q or P, but it does sport a primary school and what looked like a private secondary school.
I wanted a view of the coastline so I opted for a route that would take us via Polperro. Mistake. To get to the water you must park at the top of a hill and walk down half a mile along a road lined with souvenir shops. We drove down further than we were supposed to, turned around, and left town. We stopped at the next town, Looe, which had a nice car park near the river/harbor (really low tide!) and had a fish and chips lunch.
Next stop, Plymouth and the Mayflower Museum, right across the street from the Mayflower Steps, the steps the Pilgrims didn’t take to board their ship, located near but not at the place where they embarked for America. But the museum was nice and so was the pre-departure ice cream.
I left Judy and hiked up through town to a new museum, the Box, to see if they had any information about John Burrill, John Libby, the Blessing or the Hercules. No luck. I examined four books with lists of passengers without finding any reference to our forefathers. The lady who assisted me gave me the name of an organization that assembles passenger manifests, so I’ll run that lead down sometime real soon now.
Bottom line: don’t expect to be remembered by anyone in your hometown 400 years from now.
Judy struck up a conversation with a fellow siting on a bench while waiting for me. He’s lived all over the world and England. His father was Air Force and he was in the merchant marines. He showed us pictures of a birthday card sent to his Auntie on her 100th birthday from King Charles and Queen Camilla. He was super proud of that. He also mentioned that his wife had recently passed away. He thought for several moments and said, “It was 61 weeks ago. I miss her.” Kinda sad.
Another hour’s drive through Plymouth rush-hour traffic and a final dose of one-laning to our Airbnb. We stopped at the Mary Tavy Inn on the way for an OK dinner of local mussels, steak (Judy) and pork belly (Jon).
The cloths washer is running and we’re preparing to leave on the last leg of our England trip tomorrow, hitting Stonehenge and one last possible ancestral home before turning in the car and checking into the hotel at Heathrow.
