Cornwall had a very hard winter with wind and rain. Large chunks of land just fell into the sea. So you keep coming across signs like this:
|How long do you wait to hear from that Engineer before assuming the worst?|
They kind of mean it. One of our hosts told us that in season there is about one fatality a week from people falling off cliffs. Mostly inebriated teens, sure, but the casualty rate among sober middle aged folks is probably not zero.
Maybe it was the bright, sunny day that gave me high spirits. In one particulary dodgy area
I noted that horses had just gone down the path, so those sinister cracks would probably not open up and dump us 100 feet down into the English Channel.
But then we came to a realization. I was wearing a Red Shirt!
So my wife said "Just step back from that edge, Ensign."
Happy to report that we made it safely to the B&B. The pub is just another mile down the road, and with no cliffs.