We started off from center of England in a rare sunny morning and sped on the extending highway, watching kaleidoscope of golden and maroon fields rushed behind us. Then for very much the rest of the trip, we had to live without neither sunshine and straight road.
If someone say England is made of churches and castles, he is not far from reality. They are generously scattered on every horizon. And remarkably, National Trust is doing a marvelous job maintaining them (but why are they barring visitors during holiday seasons is beyond me). Lush green lands, open fields, spooky woods, magnificent stone castles are more abundant than supermarkets. Animals munching on idyllic England country side, grey sunrays warily casted on the featureless hill, I couldn’t help wondering life can be this peaceful and simple. The teeming noise of Metropolitan has long dwarfed by chorus from seagulls and sea waves.
It was hard not to fall in love St. Ives. This coastal town sits on a small hill facing the sea. It was easy to get lost shuttling between the stone paved narrow and steep streets. Some of the pathways are so narrow that I could touch both side just by extending my elbows. Nottinghill style wooden benches plated with names are everywhere in the town (or in most other towns too); It was tempting to wonder “are people still growing old together?” Standing near the small chapel on a small hill, time and space were melting away as the waves battered boats along the harbor.
Driving down the coast road, we reached the west furthest corner of England, conveniently named – Land’s End. It embodied the beauty of nature beyond any words. The wilting reef stood gracefully against tempestuous waves off the cliff. The waves were bounced back from the clay colored cliff colliding with new waves to form an abstract thousand shads blue canvas. Walking along cliff, I had to point my frail umbrella carefully against the cunning wind. While I carefully treaded my way on the slippery muddy road, I contemplated over the regrets of soaking my beloved camera and of missing the opportunities. The latter soon became overwhelming. I mentally reassured myself of the intricate technology behind my camera and clicked away under the rain.
National parks covers acres of land and usually spanning several mountains. White cotton-candy shaped sheep scatter on a vast expanse of grassland; isolated bright color painted houses hang half way in the mountain immediately reminds me of vampires; The aimless roaming between the aged walls and footpaths deep in the woods can be entrancing.