Camchain and tensioner seen up close in a cutaway bike engine

Home Travel Stories Static Caravan in Cornwall 2005 - By Ren Withnell

Static Caravan In Cornwall 2005 - Day 2

I wake up early on Sunday morning. It sounds like there is a feeding station on the roof of our caravan for the local seagulls. And those seagulls have big noisy feet. I fall back to sleep after looking at the gf lustfully for a while. I wake again at 0730 and make sufficient noise to “accidentally” wake the gf. The caravan has a stove kettle that whistles when it’s hot. This makes me smile, so quaint, so simple and so effective. And a teapot! I’ve not used a teapot since I left home, this is like stepping back 20 years and judging from the décor of the caravan I’ve stepped back even further.

After several cups of tea, several rounds of toast covered in lashings and lashings of marmalade and a quick smoke, the first job of the day is to go shopping for supplies. We kit up and I set off for Newquay, but I spot a sign for Truro and follow that instead. We pass by a wind farm we had seen on the way in yesterday. I stop the bike for a moment to admire the magnificent 3 bladed turbines gracefully swish through the air. We ask ourselves how anyone can object to these environmentally friendly machines, I’d have one on the roof of my house if it would fit.

The roads are good fun with sweeping bends and good surfaces. More impressive is the scenery. Rolling hills with green fields, random trees and small villages. The whole area seems to be created for picture postcards. Truro opens up before us as a mid sized town with a large church. I’m very surprised to see a sign welcoming us to the City of Truro, the large church must be a cathedral. It is a city with car parks and concrete office blocks, but a small city that does not feel overwhelming or dreary. We quickly spot a Tesco and after a short detour due to missing the entrance, we pull in.

Supplies are purchased and the bike is loaded for the return trip. The sun is shining and we are getting hot in the bike gear, it is good to get back on the road. It’s only a short ride back to the caravan now I know where I’m going. When we get back we unload and put things away, then wonder what to do. My friend’s son is going down to the beach at Perranporth so we decide to catch up with him down there. For the first time in years I put on jeans rather than my bike pants, but still wear my jacket, gloves and boots. The gf wears the same except she has on shoes and no gloves. Riding without full gear makes me feel very vulnerable so we travel the short distance into town and the beach very carefully.

I park the bike on the beach wall and we look out over the beach. It is busy and quite large, there’s no hope of finding the other folks. We settle on a spot halfway down the beach and spread out our jackets to lie upon in the same way normal folks use towels. The sun is shining and I strip to my shorts and the gf to her bikini. I don’t normally like to do the beach thing, it bores me and it’s all too normal, but today I’m happy to sit and talk with the gf, watch the other people and occasionally dip my toes in the sea. The sand is warm, the beach is surrounded by gentle cliffs and a small friendly town, the noise of the waves pleasantly mask the noise of screaming kids, I am happy to be here today.

Busy Perranporth Beach. No chance of finding anyone here!

We don’t stop too long, enough to rest and soak in the atmosphere but not so long as to get bored. We return to the caravan with plans to go for a walk around the site, but we both fall asleep instead. When we do wake up we look at each other with our blurred vision and laugh. We wander through the campsite admiring some amazing luxury caravans with envy. We talk about what we would like and how we could go about doing this. We settle on a plan to have 2 separate caravans so we both have personal space, sell the kids into slavery and become trailer trash and beach bums. Sounds quite good to me.

The campsite is on top of the steep dunes leading down to the beach. Looking over the beach in the evening sun is stunning. We gently make our way down a steep concrete road onto a concrete sand covered ramp that takes us down to the beach itself. This is perfect. Golden sand leading out to a crisp blue-green ocean, small rock faces and towering dunes, a gentle sea breeze and the company of a sexy woman. We did consider doing “it” but sand in those kind of places could act like grinding paste, and there was nowhere private anyhow. Still, we had a laugh thinking about it.

View from the top of the dunes. Glorious.

We walk back up the face of a dune. This is hard as every step up slides back half a step as the sand gives way. Trying to be manly I press on ahead of the gf and arrive at the top with the veins in my head pulsating and my heart trying to leave my chest. The gf arrives only seconds after looking oh so slightly out of breath. We sit on the dune to recover and watch the sun sink towards the horizon.

Back at the caravan we make tea, feed our faces and settle down to watch TV for the evening. We discuss the news, talk of how we would like things to be, what to do tomorrow and eventually get down and dirty. We sleep well.

The gf, yes she is vary dangerous.