Sorry again for the lag between posts. Since we’re driving to so many places in order to get to remote sites not regularly frequented by public transit, we don’t always have time to search out an Internet cafe.

Anyway, on with the update!

On Sunday, we drove from Exeter to Tintagel (tin-TAJ-uhl), which is in Cornwall, on the southwestern coast of Great Britain. We chose Tintagel because of its proximity to Delabole, a village that has a 21-turbine wind farm. On the road to Tintagel, we caught our first glimpses of turbines as we traveled past the Cold Northcott wind farm. These giant turbines were spread across a private farm. Placing wind turbines (and one in the UK does NOT call them windmills, unless one wants to be met with a quizzical stare) on private farms is common because they disrupt only a small portion of the farmer’s land, and the utility companies are willing to pay a significant price to rent the land.

Once settled at our B&B in Tintagel, we talked with our innkeeper about wind farms. We asked him about the process by which a wind farm site is constructed, and he said that there is sometimes a public hearing, but often the public’s opinion does not carry significant weight. Town councils often override residents’ opinions. He spoke of a situation in the Scottish highlands, where an entire island is being converted to a wind farm. This island had been a popular tourist attraction for many British citizens, and residents of the area were concerned that this disruption of landscape could jeopardize their livelihood. However, local concern was overridden, because the British government has quotas to meet with regard to renewable energy, and the construction of this farm would help to satisfy that quota. By 2010, 10% of the UK has to use renewable energy.

We also visited the Delabole wind farm site, a distance of about 4 miles from Tintagel. Despite the hair-raising drive (picture yourself driving through a labrynth on a road that is 10 feet wide with 8-foot hedges on either side), we arrived at the Delabole site unscathed. This site has 10 giant turbines that can each produce 400kW of electricity for a total of 4.0MW of electricity, which can power roughly 4,000 homes (the average home requires 1kW of electricity a day). On the crest of an exposed hillside, the site was quite windy, and all the turbines were functioning. This was the first time we were able to get up close and personal with the turbines, and the sound was unique. They sound sort of like the whir of a washing machine combined with an intermittent high pitched tone. (We do have the sound on both audio and video, so you might just be lucky enough to see or hear them for yourself when we get back to the States!) On the premises of this wind farm was a large visitor center that had been built in attempt to make the site a tourist attraction. However, the center went bankrupt because of lack of interest.

We drove back to Tintagel and fully immersed ourselves in the lore of King Arthur. We first took a walk along the coast, down a path with tiny ponies (of which Peter is terrified–who knew?) and out to a cliff jutting over the sea. Then we climbed down the hill to Merlin’s Cave, where apparently Merlin did some sort of magic for King Arthur. (Or where a writer decided, several hundred years after King Arthur supposedly lived, that it would be a good setting for a magician, and so Merlin was invented.) From this cave, we climbed an incredibly steep staircase (picture steps that were approximately 6″ deep and 18″ high) to the ruins of an ancient castle. Peter amused himself by investigating the thousand year old latrine (a toilet jutting out over the cliff).

We hiked back up to the town and had dinner at Ye Old Malthouse. Peter had the decidedly un-British meal of a panini with ham, Cornish cheese, and pineapple, and Erin ordered steak and ale pie, a British standard. Surprisingly, the steak and ale pie was not a pie at all but tender pieces of steak swimming in a rich onion gravy accompanied by a fluffy roll, new potatoes, cauliflower, carrots, and swede (similar in taste to a turnip or parsnip). The steak and ale was one of the best things we’ve eaten so far. Really, all that talk about terrible British food isn’t very accurate. Except, perhaps, where breakfast is concerned. The standard hotel fare of the ”Full English Breakfast” consists of a fried egg, baked beans, a cooked plum tomato, mushrooms, bacon, sausage, toast, and tea or coffee. It’s a bit much for us, though we have eaten it a time or two!

We packed up the car during one of the worst rain storms Britain has seen recently and headed off for Wales. The drive took about four and a half hours - most of which was on the motorway - and we drove through some severe rainfall. The flooding in central UK may have made international news; it’s certainly the biggest story on the BBC (along, of course, with Paris Hilton’s release from prison).