What It All A Mounts To

Day: 166

Towns / Cities Visited: 97

Countries Visited: 21

Steps Taken Today: 12,406

Steps Taken Around the World: 2,834,462

Having visited the French version, it seemed only right that we should give the British one a try, and thus after a quick breakfast we hopped in the car and headed towards the days major attraction; Saint Michael’s Mount. For those of you who don’t know of it, it is a small tidal island just offshore from the small town of Marazion in Cornwall. Much like its counterpart in Normandy, Mont St. Michel, it was home to an old Monastery, however it now has a castle in its place. Originally there was a monastery here from the 8th century, but in the 11th century it was given to the Benedictine monks on Mont St. Michel, hence its identical name. However, in 1424 it was given to the Convent of Syon, after a war with France broke the connection with its sister monastery. It does however, still keeps the name. The mount was sold to Colonel John St Aubyn in 1659, and still belongs to his descendants the Lords St Levan, to this day. The population on the island grew in the 18th and 19th century, when the island was connected to the mainland by a pier, as it was an important port, however it is now a tourist attraction, as larger ports at Penzance fulfill the role this island used to. The island, and its historic castle is open to the public through an agreement with the St Aubyn’s and the National Trust, and it because of this that we were visiting.

As we hopped out of the car and arrived at the seaside, we were to discover that it was high tide, meaning that we would not be able to cross the man made path that joins the mount to the mainland, what with it being underwater and all. Never fear though, for just a couple of pounds we were able to hop on one of the tourist boats that ferries people across during such occasions, and before we knew it we were alighting the boat in the small sheltered port of the mount. Buying our tickets for the castle and gardens we headed on in. Now at the base of the mount, which much like its French cousin, has a large rocky hill in its centre, atop which sits the castle, there is a small village with a café, and souvenir shops. We also discovered a small stall selling ice cream, and you should not be surprised to know that we supplemented our breakfast with a couple of scoops, just to get the day off to a fine start. Only good things can happen when you start your adventure with malted milk ice cream right?

With sugar pulsing through our veins, we figured we should probably use the boost of energy to scale the steep ascent to the peak. Thus up the cobbled path we headed, through the dense green trees, and between the ivy covered walls, stopping for a moment to spot the Giant’s Heart, a cute, heart shaped stone hidden amongst the cobbles. Eventually we made it to the top, and, like with the majority of sights in Europe, we found a large portion of it covered with scaffolding. I’m a big supporter of restoration works, but it would be nice to visit a few places without the distraction of scaffolding obscuring its beauty. Here we took a short moment to admire the view both to the mainland and out to sea from the cannon lined parapet which used to provide protection to the castle in centuries past.

From here, it was time to head inside and explore the rooms which have been home to the St Aubyn family for more than 450 years. The entrance hall is lined with medieval weapons, as well as the family’s coat of arms. There is also a number of other notable rooms amongst the endearing historic interiors, including a peaceful library with book lined walls, and the great hall, which used to be the refectory when this was a monastery. It is now known at the Chevy Chase room. No, not named after the American comedian, but rather the name given to the historic and bloody Battle of Otterbourne, of which there is a frieze running around the top of the wall in the room. The battle was between Scottish troops led by, James Earl of Douglas, and English troops led by, Lord Harry ‘Hotspur’ Percy, after Harry challenged Douglas by mounting a deer hunt at night. It didn’t end well for Hotspur though, as the Scots prevailed, and Lord Percy and many other men were killed. It would seem the the American comedian just happens to have chosen a rather punny stage name.

From the private apartments, we headed out onto the private balcony area of the castle, admiring the view back over the castle, as well as down over the gardens we would be visiting later. As we moved to go up the stone stairs, and around to the historic old chapel, I couldn’t help but hear a rather amusing interaction between a man and his son. The son, who had to only be about four, wanted to go up the stairs, but it has been raining a little and the stones were slippery. Also taking into account the fact that this balcony has a pretty sheer drop of a good 20 metres or so, the father, sensibly, told him that he had to hold his hand if they were going to go up to the next part. Now, this kid, without missing a beat, turned around, refused his hand, and snapped ‘I’m not two’. It took everything within me not to laugh out loud. And here I was thinking that was just something you said when you were in your mid teens and you wanted a little more independence from your overly coddling parents; they really grow up fast these days.

Chuckling to ourselves, we entered the small chapel, with its beautiful stained glassed windows illuminating the altar, and a rather impressive statue of Saint Michael defeating a demon. From here we headed back out and in to view the rooms which were refurbished to accommodate the Queen and Prince Phillip in 2013 when they visited. Painted in a soft pastel blue, and furnished in plush blue furniture, it looked like the perfect retreat from royal life, if only for a moment.

On our way towards the exit we passed a number of other rather fascinating additions to this quaint little castle; from a mummified hand from Egypt, to a collection of old maps, to a full suit of samurai armour from Japan. As we viewed the armour, we managed to hear one of the tour guides explaining the story of the origin of the Order of the Garter. The story goes that King Edward III was dancing with the Countess of Salisbury during a ball and saw her blue garter drop to the floor. He stooped to pick it up for her, only to be met by knowing smiles of surrounding dancers who jumped to rather crass conclusions. The King was angered that their assumptions might discredit the Countess and so he turned to them all, holding the garter aloft, and exclaimed ‘Honi soit qui mal y pense!’, which is Latin for ‘Shame to him who thinks evil of it’; this is the same Latin motto which sits upon the most noble Order of the Garter to this day.

With the castle thoroughly explored, and with our stomachs rumbling, we headed back down the mount to the café to grab a quick bite to eat. With sandwiches, scones, and tea filling the void, we headed back out to visit the other noteworthy attraction of the island; the gardens. Heading in we passed by an entertainer, dressed in medieval garb, enthusiastically telling the legend of the giant of the mount to an enthralled group of children. Legend has it that a 18ft giant named Cormoran used to live on the mount, coming to the mainland at low tide to eat people and cattle; terrorising the locals. One night though, a local farm boy named Jack decided he was going to kill the giant. He swims over to the island under the cover of darkness and digs a large pit. In the morning he blows his horn to awaken the giant, who comes storming out threatening to eat him. The giant falls into the trap and, after some taunting, Jack slays the giant with a blow from his pickaxe. Jack was greeted back in town as a hero and was henceforth known as ‘Jack the Giant Killer’. An amusing tale, which became the inspiration for the well known children’s story, Jack and the Beanstalk, and also the story behind the Giant’s Heart stone we had seen earlier.

From here we spent a good hour or so exploring the gorgeous, flower filled, manicured gardens which adorn the slopes on one side of the mount. As we made our way down one of the narrow paths, we found ourselves behind a mother who was helping her disabled teenage son to walk slowly through the gardens; I am going to guess that he suffers from cerebal palsy given his difficulties with walking and speech. She was so patient and caring, and it was heartwarming to watch her taking the time to take him around despite the fact his wheelchair not being able to access the area.

The day was getting on, and with the tide at an advantageous level, we hurried along, past the port with its now beached boats, to cross the walkway back to the mainland so that we might make it to our other destination before sunset. Jumping in the car it was only a short drive before we arrived at Land’s End. Given the fact we had seen the top and bottom of Ireland, we figured we would do the same here too, thus we parked in the huge carpark and headed in, to what is essentially a tourist park, with activities for the kids and plenty of food options. None of that was why we were here though, and we walked straight through until we came to the stunning view out to sea from the cliffs. Most people think this to be the most southerly point of mainland England, however that credit goes to Lizard Point; a place we would be visiting tomorrow. Land’s End is however the beginning (or end) of a route which goes all the way from here, to the very top of Scotland at John O’Groats, and one which is traversed by many drivers and cyclists every year.

The plunging cliffs, the purple heather, and the sun shining down from the cloud dappled blue skies, made for a truly beautiful end to another day of exploring, and one that we basked in for a long while. Eventually though we made a move, and headed back through the tourist park, only to stop midway through to figure out what was going on. You see, given that it was the summer school holidays, they were obviously putting on some extra entertainment, and that seemingly included bringing out a 7ft moving and talking robot. With everyone positioned in a wide enough circle that the robot could we activated, and with a man channelling some serious Men in Black vibes controlling it, we we treated to a good fifteen minutes of this rather amusing robot whipping out everything from puns, to musical hits, audience based comical jibes, and a fair amount of squirting water from its eyes over everyone. To say the entire experience was bizarre would be an understatement, but at least we left with something to talk about.

An hour or so of driving and we found ourselves back at our peaceful country Airbnb to cook dinner and work on our blogs. As I lay in bed that night I thought back, once more, to that loving mother and her disabled son. As inspiring as it was to see such dedication to ensuring her son didn’t miss out on seeing the gardens, which he had obviously so wanted to see, it was equally as heartbreaking to hear her so profusely apologise to everyone who was stuck behind them. Many of the people behind us were becoming rather huffy about the whole situation and it lit a fire of scorn in my soul. Its so tragic to see how much empathy the majority of people lack in this day and age. Its not as though they were stuck in traffic and at risk of being disciplined if they arrived at work late, they were literally at a tourist attraction seemingly to enjoy some time relaxing and sightseeing, and yet having to actually slow down in a place where you literally stop to smell the flowers seemed to be the greatest affront to them.

The fact that this mother felt that she had to apologise at all, let alone so earnestly, just shows that this is not the first time she has faced people becoming annoyed with her son’s disability. Shame on all of those people who did not simply smile, as I did, and ensure the mother and her son that it was quite alright that they were making their way along the same path we all are; not just in that garden but in life. Every part of me wanted to slap some empathy into the disgruntled masses behind us. Obviously it was their stony hearts left discarded amongst the cobblestones on the path to the castle.

We as the able bodied community should be helping raise these people and their carers up, and make them feel included and welcome in this world they already find so hard to navigate; not treating them like some major inconvenience by their mere existence. If you cannot find at least an ounce of sympathy for the weakest of our species, then what does your life truly amount to? What are you offering to this world with you apparently superior existence if you lack any shadow of humanity?

If you have strong hands, use them to help those who have been weakened by fates cruel dealt hand; if you have a strong voice, use it to speak up in defence of those who cannot defend themselves; if you have a strong mind, use it to understand the difficulties these members of our society struggle with, and learn how you can help make their lives easier; if you have a strong heart, use it to embrace those who find no room in the cold hearts of the selfish amongst us. But most of all, if you won’t support the disabled community, whether they be physically or mentally handicapped, then shut your mouth and move out of the way, because you’re likely to be trampled by those of us who would run to their aid in a heartbeat.