Day Fifteen: Mousehole to Penzance

I've noticed the boats more than ever today.

The short walk has allowed us to slow down and I've seen detail in the harbours that I hadn't acknowledged until now:

The lines across the sand on the sand in Mousehole harbour, the knots in ropes in Newlyn, the bobbing of tiny wooden vessles in Penzance; all of them weathered after years of being bleached in the sun and battered by the sea.