The roads to the campground were – to put it mildly – very narrow and exceptionally twisty and curvy since they all led through a mountainous area to the rocky coast of Cornwall. Our campground was on a beautiful shore, though it didn’t quite measure up to Big Sur. Both the campground and the little town were truly beautiful, but we think you have to see Cornwall in a storm to get the full effect. We stayed overnight so we could walk through town before we left.

Some of the towns on Cape Cod are named after towns on this peninsula—Falmouth, Barnstaple and Truro, which was to be our next stop. The Cape Cod Truro is home to some friends and we thought it would be nice to send a postcard from the original Truro to that Truro. It wasn’t too long a drive. We got there without a problem, and followed the signs for parking, which turned into a nightmare. The traffic would have made the Long Island Expressway proud. The parking lots were jammed, and they were barricaded so as not to allow trucks, campers or caravans into them. The streets were narrow with wall to wall cars. We followed a bus through town because we knew that if he could pass through the street, so could we. Finally we found ourselves outside of town, and we decided that under no conditions would we chance going back in! So we went out to find St. Austell (which we would pronounce Aus-tell and the British pronounce Austle). We were looking for a market. In the end, we found that the market was closed and we headed south to the English port city of Plymouth.