Discovery does not come in the time you travel in a car, but in the moments you stop and take in a breath, stretching legs out after all of those miles. You see, for the first time in hours, even though you’ve been watching roads drift by like a silent film.
I always say the color blue was invented by a god in Monterey. There, the mountains of the Californian coast drip into the cool Pacific like a watercolor. There is a music in the air- a beatnik, quiet jazz, with a low, low upright bass swaying in synchronicity with the tide that breathes itself into you as you paddle about the bay, or just sit and drink the wine, lounging in Carmel.
But there are varying shades of blue, and I have found new blues in Cornwall. These are the grey- mist- water blues that are bred in the Atlantic skies and swathe the southern coasts of England in their cool arms. Getting out of the car, high up on a Cornish hill, I was dazzled by the cliffs which are etched at the end of this island, and the dramatic way that green fields can be painted with a subtle haze of cloud. The discovery comes when you can simply take it in, this picture in front of you, and realise: England is a bit more than you thought it was. Sure, there are sheep grazing, and cows next door to your car, but down those rugged cliffs, there’s a surfboard with your name on it. A surfboard: in England.
Watergate Bay is a surprise. It’s stunning in its complexities. The tide rises quickly, and suprises the lone sock and flipflop left on the length of beach with its sharp teeth. Mothers run in circles, unsure of what to pick up first, their baby or their handbag. There is a vicious rip tide (apparently) and waves which beckon you to listen and decipher, to try to understand. I think I was not in tune during this trip, the waves only sounding their white noise to me. But maybe I was only hearing that elusive static before getting the right frequency- I’m sure there was some faint picking at guitar strings, some hope of a rhythm, somewhere in that noise…I’ll go back to tune in, or tune out, again, when I can…
We stayed at the Watergate Bay Hotel for John’s birthday. This is a haven. Immediately it beckons, with a mix of grey shingles and shining glass, sturdy against the cliffs. It rises out of the rock as if it were part of it; nothing awkward about this building. Inside, worn leather couches and open fireplaces ask you to read, and the bar with full protected view of the bay invites you for a drink- number 13 white, please, whatever that was- a beautiful pinot grigio or chardonnay, I can’t remember…
The rooms are straight out of interior design exemplar books: simple, understated, elegent. It’s exciting to see high tech CD plyers nestled into the furniture of a hotel bedroom- the soundtracks of your life are always better when you can compose them yourself- Radio 1 is not to be trusted on such occasions. There were swanky Italian-looking fixtures in the bathroom, although slightly complicated to work- with a tub big enough for two comfortably- even John, who is so tall, could stretch out if I let him. And the perfect touch: three rubber duckies waiting for us by the side. I have to note, the ducks could not swim, and I am still slightly alarmed for their well being in less attentive hands.
We arrived early and I checked in for a massage happily, with a warning upon exit that as I was covered in oil, the blue hazed sun would find its way through clouds and douse me with a burn if I was not careful. John had a bottle of wine waiting for me at the bar, which they promplty handed over and sent me outside to the deck to read. Bliss.
We made dinner reservations at 8, and I was pleased to see that a reservation actually got you preferential seating. We were at a good table for two by the window overlooking the hills from one seat, and the ocean from the other. We had gorgeous food- chicken liver pate with chutney or crab with watercress to start, followed by yummy local white fish with interesting potatoes. There was a dessert buffet, but our waitress brought over something chocolate with a birthday candle and, sweetly, did not sing for John. As ever with John, when there is dessert about, get a bite in as quickly as possible, because it won’t last for long.
Breakfast was included, and we had another great tabel by the window. Sadly, we were expected to leave our room byt 10:30. I hate when hotels do that…noon is a respectable time, 11, I suppose, if you’re in a rush. This hotel knows what they’re doing, though- for every half hour you stay after 10:30, you are charged £15.00. John was more prompt then ever. It’s not so bad, though, as you’re welcome to stay for as long as you’d like throughout the day. Our surfing lesson was scheduled for for afternoon, so we laid on the decks and read.
The view from the room’s balcony was perfection: animated art, really, with the hills sloping severly at one side, and a wide open sweep of the bay at the other. During the night, we left the sliding glass door open and felt the ocean’s cool on our faces. I want to live there. In that room. I cried when I left.
