Dartmouth
Dartmouth proved to be the perfect choice for our final port of call for this memorable voyage around the Atlantic coast of Britain and Ireland, in several ways. The weather was perfect: blue skies and scudding wisps of cloud, mild temperatures and a pleasant breeze. We were on deck early to see the arrival of the pilot and witness our entry through the narrow harbor entrance, the dramatic estuary of the River Dart. For centuries the English fleet has nosed out of Dartmouth to engage the enemy in the western approaches to the English Channel, as it is proprietarily known in this segment of this East Atlantic archipelago. From here, the fleet departed at the time of the Spanish Armada in 1588 and from here a flotilla of small boats left in support of the Allied forces at the time of the Normandy landings nearly four hundred years later. This is a naval town first and foremast: the classically designed Royal Naval College formed a dramatic backdrop to the day's activities as we moored mid-river next to the naval frigate, HMS Somerset.
Luckily we had arrived on the day of the annual Dartmouth Regatta, our ship marking the finishing line for several races, the name National Geographic Endeavour echoing over the town via the regatta's loudspeaker system. This caused some amusement - and pride - - to guests participating in the informative morning walking tour of the town and in the optional afternoon walks, a nature walk through native deciduous woodland to the cliff top and a history walk between St Saviour's and St Petroc's churches. The latter proved a useful summary of some of the central historical themes of this voyage. The former church was of Norman foundation, its rood screen a rare survival of reformation destruction. St Petroc, however, was a Celtic saint, the centre of his activities having been in Celtic Cornwall during the sixth century. The original church on this site was built before the conversion of the English to Christianity in 597AD. We had, in effect, walked the border between the Celtic west and the English Settlements to the east, the old frontier held for gloriously but briefly, by the legendary Arthur of the Britons.
After some ten days of sailing around Britain and Ireland, only today did we step on English soil for the first time. The Union Jacks rampant and general Rule Britannia atmosphere of the place was thus all of a piece, delightfully savored on the terrace above Dartmouth Castle over a Devon clotted cream tea or with something a little stronger after dinner on board during the magnificent firework display that closed the regatta.
Dartmouth proved to be the perfect choice for our final port of call for this memorable voyage around the Atlantic coast of Britain and Ireland, in several ways. The weather was perfect: blue skies and scudding wisps of cloud, mild temperatures and a pleasant breeze. We were on deck early to see the arrival of the pilot and witness our entry through the narrow harbor entrance, the dramatic estuary of the River Dart. For centuries the English fleet has nosed out of Dartmouth to engage the enemy in the western approaches to the English Channel, as it is proprietarily known in this segment of this East Atlantic archipelago. From here, the fleet departed at the time of the Spanish Armada in 1588 and from here a flotilla of small boats left in support of the Allied forces at the time of the Normandy landings nearly four hundred years later. This is a naval town first and foremast: the classically designed Royal Naval College formed a dramatic backdrop to the day's activities as we moored mid-river next to the naval frigate, HMS Somerset.
Luckily we had arrived on the day of the annual Dartmouth Regatta, our ship marking the finishing line for several races, the name National Geographic Endeavour echoing over the town via the regatta's loudspeaker system. This caused some amusement - and pride - - to guests participating in the informative morning walking tour of the town and in the optional afternoon walks, a nature walk through native deciduous woodland to the cliff top and a history walk between St Saviour's and St Petroc's churches. The latter proved a useful summary of some of the central historical themes of this voyage. The former church was of Norman foundation, its rood screen a rare survival of reformation destruction. St Petroc, however, was a Celtic saint, the centre of his activities having been in Celtic Cornwall during the sixth century. The original church on this site was built before the conversion of the English to Christianity in 597AD. We had, in effect, walked the border between the Celtic west and the English Settlements to the east, the old frontier held for gloriously but briefly, by the legendary Arthur of the Britons.
After some ten days of sailing around Britain and Ireland, only today did we step on English soil for the first time. The Union Jacks rampant and general Rule Britannia atmosphere of the place was thus all of a piece, delightfully savored on the terrace above Dartmouth Castle over a Devon clotted cream tea or with something a little stronger after dinner on board during the magnificent firework display that closed the regatta.
