Estuary

Estuary (noun)-

Where the river, meets the sea…

To get here, the nearest train station is Totnes, about a 3-hour train ride from London Paddington.  From Totnes Station, it's a 40-minute taxi drive through winding country roads, sans traffic. 

There is a sense of the land rising and plunging.  We pass farmland, woods, and then suddenly, catch the promise of water, glinting.

Salcombe is a picturesque village in South Devon, situated right on an estuary.  It reminds me very much of Balboa Island in Orange County, but with much steeper terrain, and a gentler sense of being.  Mayflower asked how I found this place.  Truth is, I located the hotel, first.

Salcombe Harbour Hotel & Spa, Cliff Road, Salcombe, Devon TQ8 8JH

Bruno is not allowed to eat inside the restaurant on site, but we are welcomed on the terrace.

Right beside the hotel, we find a lovely little park; 

a very useful facility when traveling with Mr Bruno.

Fore Street, the heart of town, is a mere 3-minute walk from our hotel.

  The street is marked by bunting, and flanked by just the right mix of cafes, pubs, galleries, and independent stores selling a good range of decorative goods, beach clothing, locally-made fudge and ice-cream.

At a local favourite, the Victoria Inn, Bruno is offered his own menu, biscuits, and a blanket to rest on.

For 1.50(pound), there is a ferry service that takes us across the harbour to East Portlemouth.

There we explore the beach at low tide,

 hike up a steep wooded path, 

and share a quick sandwich at the Venus Cafe.

Originally, I had hope to visit Avignon with Bruno.  But the catastrophe at Calais kept us away.  I'm glad we came here instead.  It's the sort of intimate, restful place with everything I like and need to do-

endlessly walking through stunning nature, 

meandering and admiring local architecture,

looking at art, decorative stuff...

And then there is, the water, the sea.

As each day concludes, I sit here, quite unable to speak.

In March, we offered my grandmother, as she had wished, to a different ocean, far across this sea.  I never wonder what have become of her ashes.  She has gone, she is gone.  But I know if I care to look long enough, somewhere in my heart, in the faces of my mother, my brother, my cousins and in their actions- my grandmother, persists.

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