Exploring Tintagel

Gallos

I have wanted to visit Tintagel, North Cornwall, United Kingdom, for one reason – to see a statue on Tintagel Island that has come to be known as the “King Arthur Statue.” It’s a fantastic work by Welsh sculptor Rubin Eynon that took six months to design, sculpt, and cast. Made of bronze and placed on the point of the island that looks out to the sea, it was installed in April 2016 and named “Gallos” (meaning ‘power’ in Cornish). I put Tintagel and the statue on my list to do drekly.

“Drekly” – in Cornwall, an unspecified time – ranging from straight away to a short or long time in the future; eventually. 

When I travel overseas, I rely on my feet and public transit to get around – especially in the United Kingdom, where drivers are kamikaze bold, and roads have a Napolean Complex. When England opened up to vaccinated Americans, my stint in Manchester with Angie, Clint, and the gang (the “gang” being two lovely cats and a flock of cheeky chickens) was back on. In the past, I would tag on a week to refuel my soul in Norway at the end of my trip, but Norway is still closed to Americans, so a new destination was chosen – Tintagel (Tin – TAAAH- gel, not Tint-Agle like I had been pronouncing it for moons). 

Located on the rugged North Cornwall coast, Tintagel is known for its amazing views, incredible vistas, rolling hills, and dramatic cliffs but not for its public transit options. To say it’s rural is an

understatement. A full range of skills was needed to knit bus, foot, and train schedules together to get me to Tintagel. I asked my lodging host in Tintagel about transportation, and I was told that buses and taxis were available and that while it was doable, I should see the challenge as an “opportunity to see the countryside whilst developing a stoic attitude to life.” Challenge accepted. And then I found Phil.

Phil runs a taxi service called Carbis Cabs from Bodmin Parkway to all sorts of locations in northwest Cornwall. He is awesome. He gave me a quote to get me from Bodmin to my lodging, and I accepted the quote. One month later, he is standing on the train platform waiting for me. He carried my heifer of a suitcase to the car and off we went. Phil is so personable that we chatted the entire trip (about 50 minutes) like we were old friends. Because of his disposition, I booked him for my return voyage (I had planned to get brave and take the bus). The dude does a proper job. I only wish I had gotten a photo with him and his horseless steed. Perhaps I’ll steal one off his Facebook page… 

Phil dropped me in front of Ye Olde Malthouse Inn, my base of operations for the next 3 ½ days. The Malthouse is the third oldest building in Tintagel, built in the 14th century. It’s a lovely old building with dark wooden beams, a slate roof and floor, and a friendly pub with nooks and crannies to toast to friends and adventures. I received the most wonderful welcome from Karen and the crew, despite my early arrival. Karen showed me where I could store my gear until my room was ready and told me, “Not to worry, it’ll all get sorted.” It was terrific to drop my stuff and explore unhindered. 

Ye Olde Malthouse Inn

One of the dining rooms

My room

I first explore the Old Post Office, one of the three oldest buildings in Tintagel. Its first iteration was a longhouse, built in 1380, with a thatched roof and three chambers. Eventually, the thatched roof was replaced with slate, and bedrooms and a fireplace with a chimney were added. It was used throughout its history as a home and a “letter receiving station” (an early post office) before it fell into disrepair. The National Trust acquired the building and the remaining land in 1903 and began restoring and caring for the property to maintain its historical value. While walking through the building and exploring the garden, I couldn’t help but imagine myself back in time – with a warm fire blazing in the hearth and livestock gently grazing in the fields. It was well worth the five-pound (5£) entry fee. 

The Old Post Office

The high street

I walked the high street (like a main street in the U.S.) and discovered Tintagel Artisan Confections, a candy shop that makes all its candy on vintage equipment, including the most amazing clotted cream fudge. It didn’t take long to walk up and down the high street, so I next went to see Tintagel Castle. I told myself I wasn’t going to do a lot –get familiar with the area and maybe sit and watch the ocean because I booked a guide to take me around the next day, and I wanted to keep my legs “fresh” for all the walking we’d do. So I walked. And walked. And walked. The sign to the castle is misleading – an arrow that tells you that the entry is just down the path. The sign doesn’t tell you that “the path” descends at such an angle as to seem your calves are perpendicular to the ground while your thighs are parallel to it. And when you get to the bottom? Now you get to climb a different path to get to the bridge that allows you to cross to the island where the castle is located. But don’t forget, when you’re done exploring the island, you have to ascend whatever you descended, and there’s lots of both. It was all sorts of exhausting. As I contemplated how hard it would be to bury me right there at the bottom of the path, I discovered a wonderful, life-changing service. You can pay someone to drive you back up the mountain. Halleluiah! For two pounds (2£), a brave Land Rover driver took me back to the top – in about the same amount of time I spent thinking about just staying at the bottom for the rest of my life. I ended my first day in Tintagel with a lovely meal in the pub and retired to my room early. I was asleep by 9 pm. 

The path to the castle - just a part of it

After a lovely breakfast at the Olde Malthouse, I met my guide for the day, Susan. 

Susan and I

Susan runs Cornish Heritage Safaris, and she developed a whole day for me, based on my desire to see Gallos and interest in King Arthur. We started with a leisurely walk to St Materiana’s Church on Glebe Cliff. This church was built between 1080 and 1150, and the site has been continually used since the early Celts. From the church, we began our trek to Tintagel Island and the castle. The walk from the church was so much easier than the walk I did previously – had I known it existed, I would’ve had no

St Materiana's Church

problem making it to the castle the day before! But this is why you hire a guide – for the little bits of insider knowledge (and the company). For example, parking at St. Materiana’s Church is free, while parking in any of the in-town lots or the castle lot will cost you. Not that I need to worry about parking, but it’s good information to file away. 

Off we went to Tintagel Castle (adult £15.70, free for English Heritage members). Richard, 1st Earl of Cornwall, built Castle Tintagel on the remains of an old fortress in 1233. Richard was the second son of King John and, as the second son, was not in line for the throne, so he had to look for other ways to cement his place in history. The castle had no military or economic benefit, but it worked as a status symbol for Richard. As heirs to the land died, the castle fell into disuse and eventual ruin, leaving just the bones for people to see today. And what mighty bones they are! It is gorgeous, with or without walls and a roof, and its present state lends more easily to hearing the faeries in the valley, imagining Merlin in his cave concocting a special potion, and the chivalrous nature of knights. It is easy to believe in the legend of King Arthur while walking along the castle cliffs with the sea wind sharing their special song through the cracks and crevices of a time gone by. 

I spent the whole day with Susan, taking “roads” in her trusty Land Rover, Excalibur. We visited a holy well, listened to the silence of a stone circle in Bodmin Moor, felt the coldness of a bronze-age granite monolith, and talked as kindred spirits sharing a few moments on the same path. It was a great day.

There’s so much more of my short time in Tintagel, but rather than blather on for another 1500 words, I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves. 

Bodmin Moor

A "road"

A footpath - also a road

Trebarwith Strand Beach

 A phrase I learned while in Tintagel became a favorite for me to repeat as I peeled the socks off my tired feet – “That was a fair old stank” – that was a considerable distance.