In a pleasant parallel with last year’s trip we seem to be in the middle of a heatwave here. We had two nights booked at the motel here, mainly so that Mark could consume twice his bodyweight in shellfish and crustaceans at the Blue Mussel Cafe, but we couldn’t have picked a better spot to enjoy the hot weather. Today we travelled a grand total of 12 miles, to and from the beach at Cavendish.
The day began late (for me at least) and I was woken to find Mark standing over me in full biking gear with his bucket and spade in his hand raring to head for the beach. He muttered something about the weather being lovely and wanting to feel the sun caressing his helmet…. I therefore leapt out of bed and onto the bike and within seconds we were on our way.
We arrived at Cavendish not long after and stopped for a beverage at the “Beavertails” stand which was run by two wizened ancients. We were greeted with a cheery “Have you biked here?” to which we replied that in fact, contrary to appearances, we just like the feel of leather next to our skin on a hot day and the helmets are simply an accessory for carrying cans of beer in. The elderly male then busied himself with trying to make a pot of tea; a task he undertook at the speed of a particularly dilatory glacier. Meanwhile the female half of the double-act tried to engage us in conversation, an enterprise that foundered on a combination of her, and our, deafness, mutually incomprehensible accents and general cross-cultural confusion.
On the way to the beach we passed “Green Gables” but resisted the the urge to visit it on the basis that Mark already had already been there, I knew nothing about it and it also sounded rather boring.
Cavendish beach has everything you could hope for in a beach i.e. it had sand and a copious quantity of sea (which I actually ventured into). The sea was cold but not impossibly so and I seemed to suffer only hypothermia and minor nerve damage as a result.
After that, it was off to the Blue Mussel again for a light lunch of oysters and crab cakes, washed down with copious quantities of water. Yes, you read that correctly – water – as we had the bikes with us. We are planning to return this evening, having cadged a lift from the motel-owner’s niece for the second night running. People here are very generous and we also had an offer of a lift from the waitress at the restaurant. The motel is only about a mile away from the Blue Mussel but unfortunately there is a large body of water in between and the walk round that would make it about 3 miles.
I write this after a further visit to the Blue Mussel during which we consumed yet more oysters and another lobster or two along with a bottle of wine or so to wash it down. We are now back at the Pines Motel where Mark is impressing everyone with recounting the merits of the Harley Davidson Heritage Softail and I am assuming the persona of the enigmatic man in black on the Indian Vintage – or was that the vintage man on the Black Indian?
Toodle pip, or Parp Parp as Toad would say – more tomorrow.
Over the Hill and Far Away.......... 
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