Before bed last night I asked at the pub about breakfast. Yeah, the do serve it – when the pub opens at 10:00. We want to be on the road well before then, what about earlier? There is place down the street just beyond the little grocery store.
So at about 8 we ventured out. Just past the grocery store and … no restaurants. We walked a bit farther, still nothing. We went back to the grocery store and bought a few ready made items for our breakfast.
We got the early start because we attended services in Chulmleigh at 10:30. It's a village about 25 miles, a 45 minute drive, northwest of Exeter. Yes, it is miles – though Britain has converted to Metric road distances were exempted.
Chulmleigh is where my dad's mother's family is from. Roger Greenslade was born in Chulmleigh in 1829 and married there in 1850 to Elizabeth Molland. Roger's father James was born in nearby Cheldon in 1791 and mother Rose Vicary was born in nearby Ashreighney in 1790. In 1854 James, Rose, Roger, Elizabeth, and Elizabeth's first two children immigrated to northern Ohio. Our ancestor, Roger Luke, the 9th child, was born in Ohio in 1868. His twin, Mark, lived only 15 months.
We can trace the Greenslade line another five generations before James. Most of them were born in Cheldon or Chawleigh, another nearby village.
The service that morning was pleasant. The congregation was small, which didn't help on the singing, which were several contemporary songs – nice, but nobody knew them. One of the members was the speaker. She did a good job, though wasn't a practiced speaker.
Before and after the service we talked to Marilyn, Elaine, and Paul. Elaine explained the interior – the screen was Tudor (and included the Tudor rose). The ceiling and its simply carved angels was also from that time. As for the rest – the Victorians came in, swept out the old stuff, and redecorated. That included the pulpit, the altar area, and the windows. So none of that was around when Roger married Elizabeth.
Elaine showed me a list of the names on the stones in the graveyard surrounding the church. Alas, no Greenslades, though the book saved us the trouble of walking through the churchyard. England doesn't follow the German rules of graves. When you buy one, it's yours. Old headstones stay around – though because of weather reading them could be a problem.
Paul was friendly and tried to be helpful. He offered to get us in contact with someone who might know more. His wife reminded him of a couple Greenslades in town. He hadn't made contact by the time we left town. He later emailed us some genealogy info of Greenslades. Our first reply to him was to ask for his sources.
We walked to the nearby pub for lunch. The waiter told us a large group had just ordered and our food wouldn't come for 45 minutes. At least they told us. We weren't real hungry yet, so went off to Chawleigh, a couple miles away. There we found a few graves with the name Saunders. That's the maaiden name of Rose Vicary's mother. Here's the Chawleigh church.
On to Cheldon, the smallest of the three villages and three churches. These days one pastor serves all three (and another nine). Cheldon has a service once a month (and someone along the way said none of the attendees are from Cheldon).
In Cheldon we found two headstones with the Greenslade name. Niece made a valiant effort to figure out what they said. One was for Emma Greenslade, who died in 1890, and the other was for (we think) Elizabeth Greenslade, who died in 1815.
Back in Chulmleigh, the pub was closed (we didn't want to take the time for a sit-down meal anyway) and the Indian take-away wouldn't open for three hours. So another meal out of a grocery store.
We drove across the Devon countryside, much of it on country roads one lane wide with big hedgerows on both sides. We kept the speed down and squeezed against the hedges when another car or a farm tractor passed.
Our destination was Tintagel on the Cornwall coast. There is a rocky peninsula that's almost an island. On the island are the remains of a Dark Ages settlement (“dark” because there are almost no written sources). The time would have been about the 5th to 7th Centuries. It may have been associated with the kings of Cornwall. In the 1100s Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote A History of the Kings of Britain (there was already enough kingly history to write a book?). This book said Tintagel was where King Arthur was conceived, so the place has been associated with that legend ever since. That legend prompted Richard, Earl of Cornwall to build a small castle here. Add into that mix the story of King Mark of Cornwall, his wife Iseult, and her lover Tristan (Wagner wrote a beautiful opera, Tristan and Isolde, the prelude of which I had used in my music theory classes).
Now there is a pretty cool new footbridge over the chasm between the mainland and island …
… rugged coast …
… ruins …
… a sculpture of Merlin …
… and a lot of wind.
We stayed at the Camelot Castle Hotel. It's a grand place, built in 1899 and refurbished starting in 1999. The rooms were cheaper than I expected (which is why I booked it), though I think they made up for it in the set price dinner (and it was a fine dinner).
Niece was captivated by the harp she found in the hotel's living room. She plays harp and hasn't been able to touch one for about five weeks. So, even though it was out of tune, she sat down and played. She also captivated a couple children, who watched and wanted to try for themselves, with Niece happily coaching.
Here's part of that living room. The table on the left is supposedly Arthur's Roundtable with the names of the various knights inscribed. Alas, it was in a script I couldn't read.
This place does get the award for the smallest bathroom. How small? The towel rack was outside. It was a modular thing that reminded me of an airplane bathroom with a little space to one side for a shower. Brother said at least we didn't have to go down the hall for toilet and showers, as the guests through much of the 20th Century had to do.
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