The Riding of Clydes Happens Mainly in the Rain

There is a certain charm to the sheen of water on a grey slate roof, the dark swipe of the chimney's image stretching across it, gulls on every chimney like dollops of clotted cream.  The details of stone and cement are finely drawn in the flat soft light of mist.  It is reliably cool and damp here, in the same way San Diego is reliably 70 and dry.  The man in the television says that June was the wettest month ever recorded for England, and July is showing no signs of change. 

One of the pilgrims on the flower-strewn path to Doc Martin's practice

But the flowers, of course, love it. Plants can grow on the side of a stone if it is constantly saturated with mist. And the even-steven temperatures mean that the main challenge is to stay dry.  It's never really cold, and sometimes, in the sun, warm.  Our patio is optimistically set up with table and chairs and loungers, but in this weather they seem to be an out-of-season display. When we venture outside, though, over-prepared for the vicissitudes of weather, we find a damp-headed couple pushing their pram up the steep hill, he in shorts, a snap-on plastic windshield keeping the baby dry.  Puddles of people with umbrellas move about on the streets, and we begin to realize the problem isn't the weather--it's us.  The coast is what you make of it, and even though all the tourist brochures and local publications and even the television series always shows sunny skies, we realize these images are so popular because they are so rare.  They are the longing that arises in a place that never lacks for rain. 

Yes, that chimney is curved.

Gretchen making nice with Ben, or vice versa

We speculate about the trajectory of the rain, because we are to ride the Clydes today.  Clydesdales, developed in the last couple of centuries by Scottish farmers for both work and travel, are a bit lighter than the old Norman horses like Shires, and faster.  We're scheduled to go out today for a moorland ride on the "Adventure Clydesdales".  Even though it's a bit rainy, our host provides boots, helmets and Drizabones to deal with the misty drops.  We ride Ben and Ecco, two well-trained but slightly lazy Clydes; our host Tim is on another angular Clyde gelding.  Ecco is fat and round, so I have to remind my legs of what it’s like to sit a horse. Gretchen's horse Ben is narrower and content to follow our guide.  Ecco is slightly displeased with the whole thing and shows it by insisting on being behind everyone.  The 'riding stable' is typical Cornish informal: Three big cleanly brushed, healthy Clydes tied up next to the tractors that replaced them a century ago. One of their charming features is the Piorot-like white mustache on their upper lips! Tim has 8 Clydes he uses for short rides or 2-week treks; good thing he’s a farrier, too, and can shoe all those feet himself.

We are soon on our way clopping along the steep, paved lane, down, down into the valley nearby to a cluster of houses and a lovely old church and cemetery, and then across the forests of old oaks, through gates and splashing along a trail.  Occasionally we came across a roe deer, lying under a gorse bush about 20 feet away, watching us, with giant oval-shaped ears. For fun, we slosh up and back in a fast brook, knee-keep, on rushing green streams over the rocky bottom. The horses trot along with ears up, willing to go wherever they’re asked.  Tim opens and closes the 5 or 6 gates we pass through, a neat trick from the back of a 17 hand behemoth. Riding back along a paved lane, Tim takes a photo of us against a stunning backdrop of a meadow sprinkled with beef and dairy cattle and sheep, irregular rectangular fields rising to a high horizon. Our ride is a good hour and a half; we had the luxury of driving back to Port Isaac while Tim cleaned up 12 legs with muddy feathers and 3 sets of tack.

For you Doc Martin fans, yes, this is where the 'roof rescue' took place.

Dinner was at the Old School, featured in many Doc Martin episodes, now a restaurant and B&B. Still drizzly with a grey sky, the day’s weather ended the way it began.