Just looked out the window and it is overcast not a good sign for a walk to Mevagissey. Looking out the front of the motorhome is a chap sitting by his little two man tent having breakfast in the fine drizzle. Only mad dogs and Englishmen would do that and he looks like one.

The drizzle has stopped but still overcast so with backpack and weather proof jackets we are set to go for the day. First we booked another night with the wonderful Wendy from Lancashire (very helpful with information) who directed us to the Marchents (they head a caravan group next to us) who were lovely enough to give us a coupon to go to the Lost Gardens of Heligan. As members of the Caravan and Motorhome Club with the coupon you get two for the price of one and everyone has been saying you must visit the Lost Gardens of Heligan.

The overcast is not threatening so with a Scottish couple we are off for our walk to Mevagissey. The views over the valley to the caravan park are beautiful ewes with their lambs (very noisy), goats and cows grazing what a peaceful sight to watch. The walk only took about 35 minutes and the last steep hill will be a killer to walk up when we go back to the caravan site.

  Narrow streets and steep valley sides lead down to the centre of the old Mevagissey where the distinctive twin harbour provides a safe haven for the many fishing boats that land their daily catch of skate, lobster, plaice and sole. In typical picture postcard style, pubs, cafes, galleries and shops cluster around the harbour walls and line the pretty streets. Named after two Irish saints, St Meva and St Issey, the village dates back to at least 1313 and during the 1800s Mevagissey prospered on the back of the abundant source of pilchards out to sea. Around the maze of streets we walked you'll find plenty of seafood restaurants that the village is renowned for and there is nothing more sublimely Cornish than tucking into some local scallops and mackerel but we decided to share a large pasty over a cup of coffee.

Every little fishing town we have visited Richard cannot resist going in their fish and Tackle shops to check out their gear and compare fishing and thankfully he is not buying anything. The view high up on the side of Mevagissey is picture perfect, the tide is out boats are nestled on the seabed in the inner harbour, little ferries taking folk to Fowey and the rocky slate stone cliffs jutting out to sea with little inlet beaches along the coast you can walk to.

What an invigorating walk back the hill was a killer and with time to spare we tackle The Lost Gardens of Heligan owned by the Tremayne family for over 400 years once billed as the 'Sleeping Beauty’ of horticulture, is one of the most mysterious estates in England. Lost in the brambles of time since the outbreak of WW1 underwent its famous restoration in 1992 and now brims with an amazing array of sub- tropical flowers, trees and plants. Thankfully the 200 acre Heligan Estate borders on the caravan site a quick five minute away.

It is a maze and following the map like everyone else well you just get lost. First at the entry is a Giant’s Head made of mud, moss and grass, moving on to the Flora’s Garden beautiful manicured lawn many different old trees, shrubs, plants with many in bloom. Through a gate to the Victorian vegetable garden where they grow over 300 varieties of heritage fruit and vegetables.

A surprise at every corner the Italian garden, then the home farm of a barn, sawmill and workshop, an array of animals, to the Stewarts House and garden (now a café) walking through the NZ rain forests to the Jungle section bursting with sub-tropical and ancient plants (you wouldn’t think you were in England) and we were brave enough to cross the Burma Rope bridge under giant tree ferns, rhubarb and palms.



The Charcoal Sculpture was interesting and the waterlily lakes, didn’t venture to the other fields the body is tired and we are a little lost trying to exit and finally see the famous sleeping Mud Lady before finding our way back through the gates to the caravan site to rest and enjoy the view over a cup of coffee.

Early night after a long day of walking.