The Pilchards of Polperro


I knew that pilchards were a type of fish, but until we visited Polperro, and I looked up the definition, I did not realize that a pilchard and a sardine are the same species. Where sardines are small, pilchards are larger, reaching a maximum length just over 8 inches.

The first outing we took after Shirley arrived was to Polperro, a pretty fishing village where they have been fishing for pilchards for centuries. The village has long been famous for them. The local authorities do not allow tourists to drive down its narrow streets, so we left our car at a car park (parking lot) above the town. After wrestling with a complicated machine for a pay-and-display parking permit, we finally secured a spot for several hours and walked down the hill to the harbor. (Or perhaps I should write that "harbour.")





It rained, off and on, the entire time we were there. We poked into some tourist shops with the usual  "tat," as the English might say, although we also visited a nice co-operative gallery too. For lunch, we chose the Three Pilchards Pub, which was built in the early 1500s.


Shirley, making her way to the Three Pilchards.

Like most of the pubs we visited in England, the Three Pilchards is a dog-friendly pub, and we had a mostly tasty meal there.  (I had fish 'n chips but was disappointed with the chips.) While I was writing this entry I discovered that the pub is supposed to be haunted. At some point in the 19th Century the pub owner got drunk and killed his wife. Today, people report they often hear screams from a woman shrieking from the floor above, where the unfortunate wife was murdered. If nothing else, it's a fascinating story.

Note the sign on the beam at the Three Pilchards, which is
typical of very old pubs.

Because of the weather we did not get to walk on the coastal path that runs all around the Cornish coastline. But nonetheless we did enjoy our visit to the village of Polperro. And how could we not, when obviously at least some of the residents have a good sense of humor, as evidenced by the sign at the Plantation Restaurant:




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