Dropped off at the other side of Falmouth by Mel, I walked on. Just past Trebear and the gardens there, I was striding forth down a hill, and the muscle above my knee began to twinge a bit. I was cutting through a paddock full of cows. Badly kept cows: some had bloody tails as if whipped around a barbed wire fence, others were heavy and desperate for milk, and others had been milked. Not impressed by the husbandry of these cows. But having been chased (or at least intensely scrutinised) by another load of cattle between Cawsand and Portwinkle, I was a bit wary.
These girls were all on my path. I cooed to them the entire way across the paddock, told those that desperately needed milking that I wasn't going to chase them at all, got to the other end and realised my leg was really sore. I dropped down into Helford, to where the ferry crosses the river, and thought I needed to get it checked. After crossing the river, I realised I couldn't make it up the hill, and called Melanie for rescue.
What with all that, I didn't take any pictures.