Welcome to Porthleven, the end of my first day's walk. Towards the end I was singing Duran Duran songs to myself. Seriously. (I had the iPod, but the walk required just enough concentration that it wasn't practical; I even fell twice after tripping on one thing or the other.)

As I headed into the town, I asked a couple who were clearly going to a nice dinner out where the Inn I was staying in was; they said "dead easy" and pointed it out. I'd never stayed in a B&B that was also attached to a pub, and The Harbour Inn was really quite lovely. As I approached, a local brass band (who have a Web site, bless them) was outside playing, and a woman carrying a baby came around to collect coins to keep the group going. While I waited for my dinner to cook I watched them, sipping a cider.

I ordered more food than I really needed, because I was ravenous from the walk, and made the mistake of getting nachos. Years ago, I got nachos with my friend Patrick at a restaurant in Islington. They were burnt on the edges and the cheese didn't even melt in the center. Alas, technology has not advanced on the isles of Britain in the ensuing decade or so, and I had the same problem this time around. And, in addition to the salsa, sour cream and guacamole dollops on the top, someone had put a clot of butter as well. Eww!

But the place was wonderful. Lots of room in the room, and a lovely hot shower. I wanted to wander the town, but most everything was closed shortly after I arrived, and I was too tired to do much. So I settled in for some "Big Brother" and went to sleep not long after it got full dark.