Caleb's commentary: We made it to St George’s Hotel in Parrenporth. It was surprisingly more beautiful than expected. And surprisingly more tough than we thought it’d be. But prolly the best walk I’ve ever been on. By a factor of a billion.

Newquay: the surf town of England. The perfect place to begin our walk. Like all surf towns there are hippies, chilled-out guys, lots of coffee shops & the BEST ocean breezes. 

We toured a stately home, wandering through rooms where the ceilings were so extravagantly painted they left us dizzy. There were enormous portraits, gilded everything, and enough tapestries to cover all the walls of my house. 

Sadly, many Americans have never stopped to wonder why New York is called New York. Well, friends, there is an old York—and it is considerably more charming and cobblestoned than NYC.

So far, we have walked at least eight miles every day, which seemed like a charming idea when we started and slightly less charming somewhere around mile six.

Apparently, the legend of Robin Hood is mostly… well, legend. Historians suggest there may have been several different Robin Hoods, and they were probably less “noble outlaw with a heart of gold” and more “common thief.” Maid Marian? Fiction. Friar Tuck? Fiction. Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor? Also apparently fiction.