Thursday, October 17.
Our last full day in Cornwall and I decided I wanted to have some quiet time to sit and sketch. Neither of us wanted to drive very far, so, we headed over to St. Agnes, location of my bacon bap epiphany, to see what was happening there on a weekday.
The answer became very clear as soon as we saw the water: Surfing is what was happening. Dozens of folks from grey haired wrinklies to rosy cheeked children had pulled on wet suits, grabbed their boards and hit the waves.
I spent some time sketching the headlands and taking great artistic liberties with the scene. Michael sat on a bench and read a book. When we had exhausted ourselves with these strenuous activities, we took a public foot path up the hill into the upper part of St. Agnes in search of what we had been told at the East Pool Mine are the best Cornish pasties in the area.
Our search was successful, which most of our food searches are, and we shared an absolutely delicious steak and Stilton pasty at Kit’s Coffee above the St. Agnes Bakery. According to the substantial booklet on the table that was a treatise to the Cornish pasty, I discovered that a proper Cornish pasty must have meat, spuds, swedes and onions in it. If a carrot pops in or a pea rolls by, it IS NOT a Cornish pasty . . . call it meat in a crust but do not call it a Cornish pasty. I also learned that due to the fact that Cornish miners were so sought after all over the world due to their skill, the Cornish pasty was exported to all sorts of places around the world, including Mexico, where one town even holds an annual festival to the delicacy.
Fully fueled for the afternoon, Michael and I headed back down to the water for some more vicarious surfing thrills. However, as the following photo shows, not everyone in our party was satisfied to just sit and observe: