| 2017 | 01 | 15 | rocks |

This weekend was a cornish experience. 

We decided, potentially against better judgement, to go for a quick trip down to cornwall to visit connor's family and friends - and break up the monotony that is Marlow. 

Such a good time was had by all.

Arriving unexpectedly early on the Friday we managed to actually spend some time with his dad and step mum (during which time we were presented with more food than strictly necessary). 

Obviously it wouldn't be a weekend without paddling, but once that was out of the way we went out for an explore. 

In this photo, you'll see two things. 

One of them is still wandering around the hills somewhere. 

We considered going back.

If you'll cast your mind back to the stress the 'daymarker' (Gribbin Tower) caused me previously, you may question why we wanted to go near it at all. 

Because the views at the top were alright.

Our descent was a little more ... eventful. 

Cornwall is home to a very specific breed of attack cow. Ordinarily they are kept out of the way - at quite a high altitude to avoid too much human contact and behind barbed fencing. 

We wandered a little off path due to some shooting that was going on nearby (bullets or beef?). Clearly managed to just ignore the barbed wire fences we had to climb over and the knee deep mud - because who needs shoes anyway. 

We should have chosen bullets. 

No wonder my umbrella was lost amongst all the carnage. 

We were lucky to have made it out alive. 

Lunch was a pasty.

Apparently they're a pretty big deal down there and the looks I got for having never tried one were borderline tear inducing. Connor. Apologise to your people. The mistake has been rectified. 


And then.

I almost died.


This is not a drill.

We found a Ryan (you know, the one who owns the river, organises boat trips and sorts out the weather. Ryan). 

We hit up the beach and spent a solid 8 and a half minutes chasing the sea. 

Only for the boys to really smartly lead us into danger.

Genuine danger.

Not the type of danger you could walk through because the sea was only like 3 inches deep.

Real life danger.

look how much danger connor's in. I'm amazed he walked away unharmed. 

I think they just forget I only have little legs and I'm not so inclined to remain upright.

My approach to jumping between rocks involves closing my eyes, hoping really hard and dropping to all fours. 

Trust me.

It works.

The above photo was probably the closest I've ever been to death.

I jumped over that.

Look at the size of the gap, the depth of the water and how quickly I could have been dragged away.

To recover (because I needed to recover from that spectacular sass out) we headed over to Newquay and sourced a hot chocolate and some cake.


Oh but the day was not done!!

Eddie the Eagle is my new spirit animal.


Paddle paddle paddle.

what more can I say? You put a boat in the water and then you use your paddle sticks to go in some of the directions (I opt for most, but normally it's just some) before you get out and have to drag your boat across a sand bank because you can't use your eyes.

To the moor. 

We didn't yell because it was tipping it down, freezing cold and very windy.

A quick visit of the Hurlers (stone circles) and the Cheesewring (see below Connor standing on top).

crab dabbing

Connor wanted to rearrange the rock formations. 

He's still there. Running around with rocks. 

I like outdoors. 

It was just, nice.

I still have yer to find a pebble or the beast of Bodmin. But we'll keep looking.