The Tractor Factor

[Ian]

A year ago, me and my mate Paul went up north to see loads of chipboard. This year, we decided to head to the west country to see some tractors. This is how it went.

Obligatory disclaimer: All images taken on iPhone so apologies for poor quality, especially those where I used the crappy new zoom feature.

Living in the best part of England, the south coast, it didn't take us long to be on our merry way. We're heading west. Here's an in-car shot of some M27 signs near Southampton.

The hire car was great. It was a new Insignia and the first car I've been in with a DAB radio, so I took photos of some of the stations available. LOL at Amazing Radio.

Premier Christian. We laughed at the bullsh1t coming from the speakers. IT WAS LIKE GOD WAS TALKING TO US, MAN!

There was also the soon-to-cease BBC Asian Network. I'm glad it going. I live in a country where Asians make up just 4% of the total population, so a waste of the majority of taxpayers money. Plus the music on it it terrible, albeit slightly funky.

We found BBC 6 Music, but now it's been saved, there's no need to listen to it, so we spent most of the time listening to X-FM and the local stations.

Enough about cars, and more about the journey. Our first destination was Torquay. I wasn't fussed about Torquay but Paul loves Camelot, a place where they do "big food", so we went anyway.

I settled for a 8oz steak with king prawns (a surf & turf) and Paul went for a whole chicken. Yes, a whole chicken.

After food and a few beers, we headed to the marina where the bars and pubs are. Tbh, it was a pretty dull evening. There were hardly any people around - one or two hen/stag do's - but it was so quiet for a Friday night, there was no atmosphere. I don't think I'll be heading back there in a hurry. Back to the Travelodge at midnight, where I drank another two pints, smoked a joint and fell asleep upright on the sofa.

Woke up next morning, looked out the window and saw a car with a blackboard bonnet! (American: hood.) Awesome! Somebody had written "We want tits! (now) on it". I wanted to draw a cock on it, but Paul stopped me. "There are kids about, mate."

We poodled on west along the A38 towards Cornwall, crossing the Tamer Bridge...the most exciting part about the drive.

The head, the long drive, lack of food and possibly the 8 pints the night before, really took their toll on me, so I was sick. It wasn't until we reached a few miles from Land's End that I ate, I felt a lot better after that.

Actually, funny(ish) story here. The pub we stopped in had a church next door and a wedding was taking place. Guests were using the pub car park and they managed to block us in, assuming our car was part of the wedding service.

Pissed off, I marched into the church (wearing a crappy t-shirt and those horrible green flowery shorts I have) and stood at the back and shouted to the congregation (the wedding was about 10 mins away from starting), "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt!" *everybody turned round to look at me* "Does anybody own a silver Fiesta, OBZ?" There was a slight murmur and nobody owns up. I shouted it again, only this time a lot louder adding "You're blocking us in! Unless you want to invite me to the reception, can somebody move the silver Fiesta OBZ immediately please." Silence....even the bells stop ringing...from the back of the church storms a very angry looking vicar jangling some keys! I turn to Paul and burst out laughing, as do a few others from the congregation. I apologised to the congregation, wished them all the best and watched as the vicar moved his car.

After the car faff, we headed to...

Last time I visited Land's End I was about 6 years old, so it was a nice refresher. Land's End has become a a bit of a commercialised amusement park. There's a Doctor Who thing, several rides (which you have to pay for, and nothing exciting) and a Land's End to John O'Groats exhibition, which is free.

For those not clued up on British geography, Land's End and John O'Groats are the two furthest mainland points. One bloke walked the entire distance carrying a door.

English cricketer Ian Botham walked it. Here are his trainers.

And there's a super-fast video of the car journey between the points.

It was a sunny day so we had an ice cream. Plenty of flavours to choose from!

Om nom nom nom!

I found Land's End to be rather charming. Yes, it is really touristy - full of Krauts and Chinks - but it's so homely and English, typically quaint, "chocolate box" you might say. In the sunshine with a clear blue sky, I think that the hilly coastal regions of England are unbeatable. I may have walked away with a different opinion if it had been grey and drizzly.

We wandered around a bit more, taking in the lovely views and snapping away.

There's the famous signpost to look at.

Bugger paying £15 for an official photo with your own location on there, we took our own.

I'll end this section with a bit of patriotism.

Still to come... Paul gets some exercise, peregrinating stones, Grease is the word, chair extension, HORSE!, and much more!

 

[marc]

PMSL at the church part

 

[Martyn]

It's funny, I don't know Paul, but I like him. He's a top bloke.

 

[Dave]

Hahaha, the wedding bit was awesome. Great little tour, your making Cornwall seem interesting.

 

[peep]

Haha, Ian, last years trip report was epic and this one is shaping up to be just as amazing. That church story is hilarious, it's the sort of story you'd expect from a sitcom on tv hehe.

Look forward to the next part.

 

[furie]

PMSL! Great report as per. That chicken looks pretty rank though....

I went down there for the eclipse (my one and only time in Cornwall) and Lands End was just a shed and a sign - it's amazing how much it's changed!

Did you invite the Vicar to listen in on Premier Christian?

 

[Ian]

^ Eclipse at Land's End, sounds hippyish! You may like the next part then!

Thanks for the comments so far, now for part 2 of 4.

We spent about two hours at Land’s End before we drove north-east towards Madron though some “roads of death”.

These roads were so narrow, the hire car was clipped constantly by bushes and we met many oncoming cars. Bloody women drivers who refuse to reverse despite a passing place being just behind them. That didn’t bother Paul though, it gives him a chance to show off his “silky driving skills”.

Before I go anywhere, I always research stuff to see in the area. I do enjoy the mainstream tourist attractions, but I also like to see the odd quirky thing. The west country has a lot of standing stones, such as Stonehenge. There are a couple in Cornwall and I wanted to see them.

After several more miles of death roads, we parked up at point A on the image below and had to walk to point B. I hadn’t told Paul that these rocks would mean walking, otherwise he wouldn’t have agreed to it.

So we began the 0.7 mile walk on a really rough, slightly uphill, dirt track.

As you may have gathered, Paul isn’t the fittest of people so we had to stop twice for rests. I didn’t mind as much, we had plenty of time, the weather was grand and the scenery was gorgeous. It also gave Paul a chance to play Flight Control, a game he’s addicted to.

Aha! It must be this way!

This is Mên-an-Tol.

Mên-an-Tol translates from Cornish to mean “stone and hole”. Viewed from certain angles it looks like a 3D 101, but I doubt that has any significance. The stones apparently hold mystical powers. If a woman passes through the hole during a full moon, she’ll become pregnant. She’d have to be a bloody small woman to fit through that gap!

Historical, mystical rocks don’t really impress Paul. “I walked a mile to see that! You go play on your rocks, mate.” Out comes the iPhone and on goes Flight Control.

I did indeed play about on the rocks. I couldn’t fit through the hole.

I got bored of the rocks after 15 minutes and Paul crashed on Flight Control, so we slowly made our way back to the car.

There was another rock formation I wanted to see was Lanyon Quoit – a table like structure used as a burial ground 5000 years ago – but Paul wasn’t up for more walking so that put an end to that.

We drove along more roads of death until we gained a phone signal, used the Laterooms.com app and found a cheap two star hotel near St Ives.

I’m sure in the 50’s it would have looked quite modern and luxurious.

Tbh, it wasn’t too bad. Imagine an old fashioned Travelodge crossed with a prison and you’ll get the idea. Then again, the view made up for it.

This was my genius idea so Paul could see the telly in bed. My bed was placed right in front of it, so Paul couldn’t see it from his. Anybody who has played Daytona USA will be aware of the “TIME EXTENSTION” cry when you cross the lap mark, for some reason I kept shouting “chair extension” in the same voice.

After a shower and short kip, we used the local railway to head to St. Ives. The Carbis Bay station was literally a platform with a hut. £2 for a return journey. It was ideal, only took five minutes.

St. Ives is picturesque. Like Land’s End, it’s chocolate boxy with a traditional charm to it. The beach cove looked lovely. I’d probably visit again just for the beach.

The town itself was quite hilly and has a very local feel to it. It looked really old fashioned. The architecture highlight was the art-deco style cinema, grease is the word.

After buying lottery tickets and scratchcards (Paul won a fiver), we went in search of life. The first pub we found was a bit spit and sawdusty. My type of pub.

There was nobody in there and at £3.20 a pint, we didn’t stay in there too long. Two beers later we went on search for food.

There are a few poncy restaurants, but again, that’s not the sort of environment I feel comfortable in, so we found a dingy Mexican restaurant. The deed-fried brie starter and chicken burrito main I had was sublime!

It was now knocking on about 8ish, so surely some life would be appearing soon? The main square was dead.

So we went to another pub. It was sort of busy, but mainly families, old people and several Germans. The Germans seem to like the west country. The highlight was a massive and boisterous seagull.

We left the pub about 9:30…

…and still the town was dead.

Costal towns are dead off-peak. Torquay was quiet and St. Ives was a ghost town. If I had visited during August, I’m sure there would have been more life but it does surprise me how these places manage to survive during off-peak.

Neither of us could be arsed to drink anymore (it was too expensive and we overdid it in Torquay) so we headed back. The harbour looked gorgeous at night. Shame the camera doesn’t do it justice.

We got back to the train station and – thankfully – caught the last train back! If we had stayed on for more drink, we would have had to get a taxi, an expense we could do without.

The hotel looked very creepy at night, but a bed was a bed.

Still to come… Horse cock, illegal photos, spooning, “cyder”, pasties and the Lazy Lard Arse Land Rover.

 

[ciallkennett]

Great PTR so far Ian, highly amusing :lol:

I've never been to Cornwall at all, and would love to go after seeing your TR. It does seem quite chocolate box and British - Neal would have loved it.

I conquer with whoever said your mate Paul seems a lot of fun. He seems like the kinda guy I'll be having nice discussions with at the bar of a pub most days in a few years time.

Looking forward to instalment 3!

 

[Pierre]

It's funny, I don't know Paul, but I like him. He's a top bloke.

Haha I was thinking the same, I dunno if its the way Ian describes him and his actions in the report, but both the chipboard and this PTR, I'm seeing what Paul does and thinking "haha typical Paul" as if I know the fella.

And yeah LOL at the church story bet the vicar was well embarrassed.

 

[Hixee]

This is, without a doubt, one of the most pointless trip reports ever. I think it's excellent. Living in Bristol and having family living in Devon and Cornwall we visit quite often. I've never seen it in this light though.

This is really very entertaining to read. Very dry. Great job Ian!

 

[Nic]

It's funny, I don't know Paul, but I like him. He's a top bloke.

I have had the pleasure on several occasions and can confirm that he is, indeed, a top bloke <3

Great PTR as always, Bellend. Looking forward to the 2nd half

 

[Ketchup]

It's nice to see a report on someone visiting Cornwall and not just visiting Newquay like 90% of people and good to see you had a good time out here in the middle of nowhere!

Marazion and Porthcurno are two other beaches that I would recommend if you are ever down again, as I'd call them probably the two most beautiful places in England.

And the woman actually has to pass through the Men-an-Tol backwards 7 times to become pregnant during the full moon!

 

[Ian]

Breakfast was included in the hotel price so we took advantage of it. The restaurant was like a scene from the crappy old BBC sitcom, Waiting for God. Paul and I were the youngest by about 40 years. Still, the breakfast was nice. Toast, cornflakes and a fry-up. I had Paul’s tomatoes as he’s allergic to them.

I like alcohol. Not only do I like drinking it, I also enjoy pub culture and I’m genuinely interested in the making process. I’ve visited several lager and ale breweries, whisky distilleries and a couple of vineyards. I’ve yet to visit a cider factory tour. As we’re in the home of cider, what better place to do one?

We went to Healeys Cyder Farm in Cornwall.

We arrived for 10am, when it opened and were the only people there. The first tour was an hour away so we minced away the time in the gift shop…loads of cider!

On the left of that photo is the sampling tables. The sample is only a small drop but I flirted with the bint behind the counter and received larger “shot sized” samples. I sampled all of them.

There’s loads of merchandise to buy. Their most commerical cider is called “Rattler” so there’s plenty of merchandise. Best of all were these flip-flops….

…that had a bottle opener in the sole!

Awesome.

There was still about 30mins to kill before the tour began. Paul didn’t want to do any unnecessary walking so I left him to chain smoke and play Flight Control as I wandered around the farm.

There’s a stable…what could be inside?

Yes, a HORSE!

Here’s the side profile of the HORSE, complete with cock.

Pigs…

…pigs arse.

A peahen and some chicks. Awww, bless.

A cow type thing called Stumpy…

…and some cow ****.

The tour had started. It began with a look at the big distillery tanks that store the scrumpy for three-four months so it can ferment.

Then we jumped on a tractor to see the orchards.

Trees…

..more trees…

…yes, trees…

…Trees were boring Paul. He reached into his pocket, hunched forward and started playing Flight Control again.

The tree monotony was broken up with boxes.

…but ended with trees.

According to the recording on the tractor, all apples used in their cider are selected by nature. Only those that naturally fall to the ground are used. Each picker is responsible for their own line of trees. This includes pruning them so they only grow as big as the picker! The trees are also encouraged to grow in a V shape so they can optimise the sunlight. I’ve never learnt so much about trees.

As it was a Sunday, the actual factory wasn’t working. In hindsight, I would have preferred to visit during the week to see the machines in motion.

It started off with the apple press.

Apples are thrown in at the far end and then are crushed between a series of drums. The leftover apple mush is fed to the animals, whereas the juice is pumped to the big tanks where sugar is added. 200,000 UK gallons of juice is pressed every year.

Once the juice, sugar, yeast and other gut-rotting crap that goes in cider has worked it’s magic, it’s pumped to a tiny bottling room where just two people work! One person hoses the liquid into a bottle, the other person along the line screws on the bottle caps by hand.

The bottles are then placed on a conveyor belt and taken to the labelling/packing room.

This is also a lab where they have to test each batch. Interestingly. if the cider’s ABV is over 7.4 then it’s officially classed as a wine and is subject to extra taxes. The lab also experiments by mixing different batches. On some days, lucky guests can be guinea pigs!

The next part of the tour took us to the old (we’re talking 400 years here!) brew house. They’ve turned it into a museum where you can see the old pressing methods.

Most of the apples were pressed in a circular trough and a large stone was rolled around inside it, pulled by a horse. A man would stand beside it and shovel up any apples/mush that tried to escape. As they scooped up, rat and horse droppings would enter the juice. They discovered that rat droppings ferment the juice quicker so they ended up adding rat **** as part of the process! Obviously with modern technology, rat **** is no longer part of the recipe.

The next 15 mins took us through the different types of presses. Another method was to lower a massive wooden beam down on the apples to press them. In the 1800’s they used lead presses, which obviously lead to lead poisoning. It was rather interesting.

Healey’s also produce apple brandy. They have a custom built distillery on site. Due to the fumes, cameras and mobile phones could not be used. The room contained a large still and three chambers. Brandy distilling is a slow and complex process. Not much else to report about it aside from the smell. The smell was utterly divine. Such a rich, sweet smell of fresh apples. It would make a great air freshener fragrance.

They also took us to the cellar. No photos as it was dark, but the smell was brilliant! Interestingly, they are making apple whisky! The whisky will be ready at the end of next year.

The final part of the tour was the preserves area, where they make jams and marmalade. Again, a long process involving just a couple of people. Jam is literally just sugar and berries. I could feel my teeth rotting just looking at jam urns.

There were tonnes of varieties though. I spooned several of them. The strawberry & chilli, classic marmalade and apple & onion jams were my favourites.

And with that our tour came to an end. We decided to buy some booze to take home. I bought some Classic Oak Matured Cyder, which was so smooth, it could be confused with apple juice.

I still don’t like cider and regard it as the dirtiest of all alcohol. I’m not too keen on the taste, the resulting hangover nor am I really impressed by the brewing process. I found the tour interesting but I didn’t obtain a newfound appreciation for it. There are good ciders out there, but the majority of them turn my nose and stomach.

Give me a good old English ale, French wine or a Scottish whisky any day.

In the final part… Penny scaving, pasties, big hills and sauces.

 

[Nic]

^Oooooh, that looks awesome! Definately one of the better ones I've seen, and I've been to quite a lot of different cider farms now. Quite similar to Westons really by the looks of it, and that was the best one I've been to. Will definately have to visit next time I'm down that way.

Oh, and if you owned those flip flops, you'd blatantly wear them every day for 3 years before realising that there was a bottle opener there

 

[Ian]

^ Hahah, true. But at least the beer splashes would be on my foot and not my cock area.

 

[ciallkennett]

That sounded awesome. Now I know how cider is made from the growing of the apples to the bottling of the cider itself! Cheers for that Ian

 

[Ian]

Sorry for not polishing off this Life Outside report sooner, I had other stuff to do, but now I’m bored at work, I may as well complete it.

After our visit to Healey’s Cyder Farm, it was time for us to head east, backs towards home.

Paul’s satnav was set to “shortest route” which takes the most direct route, not necessarily the quickest. This meant more “roads of death” which were barely wider than the car. You could hear the shrubs flicking off the wing mirrors.

Paul is an enthusiastic driver so he was loving these roads. Even in the rural parts of Hampshire, there are few roads like this to enjoy. Paul pushed the hire car to it’s limit. The highlight was this 20% gradient down a hill.

Paul was chuffed with the speed he achieved down that hill. Coupled with the enclosed hedges, the sense of speed was terrifying. If we had met an oncoming car, I probably wouldn’t be here typing this. Far more thrilling than any roller coaster!

Our destination was Tintagel. Paul wanted to see a castle and he, at random, chose the one at Tintagel. According to my Mum, I visited it when I was eight years old but I couldn’t remember it. Like the other towns and villages in Cornwall, it looked beautifully English.

We parked up and looked for the castle. It took AGES to walk down the long hill to the site, which was swamped with German tourists.

I was expecting a grand castle, but no, it was just 13th century castle ruins. I was slightly disappointed tbh. Apparently it’s associated with the legend of King Arthur (which would explain a few things a bit later on…) but was probably originally a Roman settlement.

The area around the castle looked nice. Caves, coves, waves etc.

As we had walked for what seemed two miles to get to the “castle”, I wanted to look around it. Paul wasn’t keen. He had just walked (very slowly) downhill for about 20 mins so he was stubborn and refused to go further. He said I could go on my own and he would chain smoke with a coffee outside the café, but there’s no fun in that so I just wandered around taking photos.

Of course, what goes up, must come down, so we were now faced with a MASSIVE uphill walk back to the car. Paul spotted a Land Rover service that can shuttle you back to the top for a fee. I refused to pay when I have two working legs, but there was no way Paul would walk. He agreed to pay for me so we got a lift back up. I admit to fake limping as I got out the Land Rover so people wouldn’t think we’re simply lazy, fat bastards.

After all that exercise walking downhill, we were hungry so time for a traditional Cornish dish – a pasty! There were plenty of bakeries in Tintagel, each claiming to make the best, most traditional pasty. We settled on Merlin’s Pasties.

Most of the shops, hotels etc has some sort of name derived from the King Arthur legend. It was pretty corny tbh. Corny in Cornwall…hmmm.

A pasty is a flat(ish) pie with a crimped edge. Ideal for the tin miners of Cornwall. They would grip the crimped edge with their grubby hands and eat the rest.

As I‘m not a miner and have modern day hygiene standards, I just chomped away from the one end to the other. I had a steak pasty. Paul had a chicken tikka one.

We had a little look around the village. I wasn’t impressed. As a theme park lover, I do enjoy going to an actual theme park and being immersed in a different world, but Tintagel was far too commercialised and cheesy. Which is why it came as no surprise that the amusement arcade was called…

Arcades are perfect places for finding money on the floor, so we went inside. I’m collecting stray coins for an upcoming video project. I found 13p in lost change. Paul entertained himself on a fruit machine.

That was Tintagel. We hit the road and headed back towards home. We killed the time with the “Name <number> <random>” game. Subjects included “name 20 films where a man dresses as a woman” and “name 10 telly programmes where a main character is in a wheelchair”.

We also played the Horse Game where you shout “horse” if you see one. It’s a game I picked up from car journeys with the lovely Vadge. The person with the most horses wins. Up to this point, The Horse Game Series was draw. I won on Friday and Paul won on Saturday. I was kicking ass (14-5) on the Sunday until we hit the M27 and all of a sudden Paul shouted “horse” a further 12 times. I had never noticed those horses there before but it put Paul in the lead and he won the series.

We did stop off in a pub for dinner in Dorset on the way home. Interestingly (or perhaps not), the sauce sachets didn’t have names on them, just pictures. No prizes, but can you correctly guess what all seven of these sauces are? Paul may have won the Horse Game, but I won the Sauce Game! Bwahahah!

So that was our Tractor Factor. We didn’t get stuck behind a single tractor as we expected to. It wasn’t as exciting as The Chipboard Tour but certainly more laid back, which is what I expected from that part of the world. Cornwall is lovely, I should really make more of an effort to frequently visit…but only for the beaches and relaxation. Not for the castles.

Thanks for reading.

 

[Dave]

1. Mustard
2. Brown Sauce
3. Tomato Ketchup
4. Egg Mayonnaise
5. Vinegar
6. Tartar?
7. French Dressing/ Salad Dressing.

 

[furie]

I went to Tintagel when I was in Cornwall, I hated the place :lol: I think I drove too fast down the same lanes too (I had my boy racer hot hatch Renault 5 back then)

Like you, I just found the entire place hideously cheesy. It's the way everything tried to piggy back onto the Arthur legend, but in just such an awful, tacky way. It was either "new age bollocks", or "name ourselves after an Aurthurian character and flog a **** baked product to the fools" type of place. We went to a pub in Boscastle to eat (my misses at the time was determined to take me to the museum of Witchcraft, which was dull and full of lots of stupid pagan types).

Probably the place highest in my "disappointed with" list. Except for the roads to get there of course


Oh, and I walked both ways

 

[Thekingin64]

rat and horse droppings would enter the juice. They discovered that rat droppings ferment the juice quicker so they ended up adding rat <img> as part of the process!

According to one of my dad's friend's friends (who happens to make cider) that is just an old wife's tale.