Castle Drogo

We took the M5 toward Plymouth on Saturday with the hopes of seeing Castle Drogo in all its splendor.It was built for Sir Julius, a self-made millionaire who retired at 33. The view alone is tip-top.

As the last castle built in England, Drogo is a welcome mix of the old and the new. From the outside, it’s a fortress. From within, it’s surprisingly unassuming. Despite the medieval contraptions plastered throughout, it’s the kind of place you’d want to live. To adjust to the fact that we’d never live at Drogo, we mocked it for being a tri-level, the white elephant of real estate.

After a quick stop at Buckland Abbey, Sir Francis Drake’s pad, we realized we’d have to spend the night on the road. We thought we’d found refuge at a B and B near Tavistock, but the signs were ominous. As I opened the car door my leg collided with some stinging nettle. My calf ablaze, we took a look at a room but saw nothing to justify the price tag.

Just outside of town, we discovered the Two Bridges Inn, a 200-year old structure set next to a burbling stream with its own gaggle of geese. The same 60 lb rate as Tavistock, we happily took the last room at the inn. It was a twin, but it was hard to complain when Two Bridges was hosting a wedding that night and the theme was the Lord of the Rings. Guests festooned in every imaginable fabric passed us in the squeaky corridors with a brew in their hobbity hands.

Exhausted from the day, we retreated to our room with a glass of Blackthorne cider. Old photos of nameless families decorated the walls. Antique dressers – built long before the Gideon’s Bible made its way into hotels – enveloped the cozy room. We listened to the clamor of the Commitments cover band in the garden downstairs and thought of Frodo.

The place was truly brilliant, and we were proud of ourselves for getting a deal. After breakfast we reluctantly checked out of Two Bridges, only to discover that the 60 lb rate was per person. Gobsmacked, indeed – but happy nonetheless.