Cornwall - Day 2
The Magic of Fowey
I’m sitting in my flat in front of the window which overlooks the River Fowey as it spills out into the English Channel. Every type of small water craft from sail boats, fishing boats, rowboats, motorboats, and more, move past, some slow, others fast. As I look out to the sea, I think of how a small armada of such vessels crossed the Channel at Ramsgate in England to rescue the soldiers stranded at Dunkirk in 1940. What an amazing act of bravery.
White-crested waves splash against the rocks, and here and there, fat, white seagulls with their orange beaks drift into view as they search for food. I’ve grown used to hearing their calls all day, and it’s a sound I don’t think I’d ever get tired of hearing.
I’ve just finished writing a scene in my novel, but I’m taking a break to write this post. Despite waking up feeling properly knackered, I needed to pop down to the shops for food earlier. Getting there is the easy part; walking back is tough as it’s all uphill. Then I have approximately 60 stairs (no, I’m not joking) to climb. When one has a bag full of groceries and a chronic illness, this is no easy feat. The town centre is full of tourists today, many of them accompanied by their dogs. I stopped for a Cornish pasty - steak this time, though I want to try the chicken - and made sure to buy jam and clotted cream for my scones.
Last night, despite telling myself it was a day of absolute rest, I felt the pull to do a bit of exploring near my flat. It was, in a word, magical. I found a small cove with a rocky beach and beautiful, aquamarine waters. I snapped a ridiculous amount of photos. On the way back, I took my time, marveling at the slate walls, the way plants find cracks in the stone to grow, and how, despite man’s best efforts, nature will find a way.
At one point, as I stared out at the cove, I almost started crying. It was so beautiful, so magical, that I understood fully and completely why Daphne du Maurier fell in love with Fowey and Cornwall. I could see the pirate ship from Frenchman’s Creek nestling in that cove, could see Dona St. Columb scrabbling over rocks and foliage to get to her beloved Frenchman.
But here is where Daphne had an advantage over me.
Even now, in this beautiful place, conditioned by years of email and social media notifications, I’m having a very hard time shutting down that part of my brain that wants to check everything. Check Substack to see who’s commented on my latest post; check Instagram; check email; check, check, check. Even though I’ve limited myself to two social media sites, that urge to check hasn’t gone away.
Daphne did not have this problem. Oh, I’m sure she had distractions (because don’t we all?) but she didn’t have to worry about messages arriving one after the other all day, every day.
And the other problem is that I want to share everything I’m seeing and experiencing! It is so exciting for me to be in the country I love, to see all these amazing landscapes and places, and not gush and want to share my excitement with you. I just can’t keep it to myself! A conundrum, to be sure. But I find that the longer I’m here, the less I feel the need to be “on” and mindlessly scroll my feeds. (I figure if I stayed here a month, I could really get comfortable!).
One of the topics I wanted to explore while I’m here is place. How does it affect our mental and physical health, our mood, our overall well-being? I’ve written about this many times before, but specifically wanted to address it while I’m in Cornwall. Daphne wrote about how she felt so much better mentally and physically when in Cornwall. I can well understand why compared to the busy, noisy city of London.
So. How does this place affect my mental and physical health?
It’s a mixed bag. Mentally, I feel amazing. I’m inspired by these views, by Fowey’s charm, by its positive energy. Physically, I am struggling. Fowey’s steep hills and stairs have challenged me. This could have been alleviated had I been better informed and rented a place without so many stairs (but I would have sacrificed an amazing view) and by renting a mobility scooter. These are yet more travel lessons learned as I alluded to in yesterday’s post. But the funny thing is, I don’t feel like crawling into bed and hiding from the world like I normally do when I’m in a flare. I’m resting, yes, but I’m also sitting here watching the boats outside and the people walking on the esplanade. This place invigorates my mind which, in turn, helps me not to focus so much on the pain and exhaustion my body is feeling.
I call that a win.
Tonight, England plays Mexico in the World Cup. Pubs have been allowed to stay open late (1 to 3 a.m.) since the game takes place in a different time zone. I’m toying with the idea of going to watch it in a pub called The Ship’s Inn which was built in the 1400s. We’ll see how I’m feeling.
Join me for daily posts on Cornwall for the rest of this week!