Our Coastal Adventure is Over

Liz and I have finished our section of the South West Coast Path from Mevagissey, Cornwall, all the way to Poole in Dorset.  We've climbed hills, swum in the gentle ocean, tried all the real ales we could, wandered along cliff edges (yes, I did!), eaten some memorable (and not so memorable) food, met loads of interesting people and seen some magnificent scenery.  Since I last posted an update, we have done so much and been so many places that I thought I'd just show you a selection of some of my favourite moments.  So get ready ...

For 230 miles we have followed the sign of the coastal path, an acorn, and tried to decipher the sometimes enigmatic arrows and signposts that should indicate the direction you need to walk in.  However, they can be very misleading ... you'll see a sign saying Weymouth 6 miles and fifteen minutes later the next sign will say Weymouth 6 1/4 miles!  

Hmmmm! Surprisingly, we got pretty good at deciphering the enigmatic signposts and rarely got lost. 

Always choose the arrow with the acorn ... 

... and sometimes the path was pretty bloody obvious!

This, however, was the path near Polperro and that's me gingerly pushing my way through the brambles and nettles.  These gave us quite a bit of pain and the long grasses caused some extreme reactions from all the pollen.  On one stage, I basically went blind in one eye and Liz came out in big, red welts on her legs ... not very pleasant!

We have had amazing warm and sunny weather but one of my favourite days was when we walked from Bigbury-On-Sea to Salcombe.  The humidity, heat and cold sea meant that sea mists shrouded the coastline for most of the day.  We walked in the damp, muggy clouds until we turned the corner in Salcombe ... where there was blue skies, turquoise sea and a blazing sun.

The coastline (when there wasn't fog and mist) was a constant of our days.  We would joke that we couldn't be lost if the ocean was on our right hand side and this influenced our decision-making sometimes.  But what was fascinating was how the cliffs and rocks changed ... from black jagged spires to crumbling white limestone ledges, granite and boulders to stretches of fine yellow sand.  This was a coastline that always grabbed your attention.

Salcombe to Torcross

Meadows on the way to Dartmouth

Dartmouth to Brixham

The red cliffs near Sidmouth

The most westerly white cliffs, near Beer.  Beer was badly named because there wasn't very good beer at all!  Such a shame!

The crumbling grey Portland stone on the isthmus of Portland - a fascinating place.

The beautiful, steep cliffs near Lulworth Cove

Old Harry Rocks, on the way to Poole

You've got to love a good sea mist ... even if it does disguise the magnificent view that you had been promised.

As ever, I was always on the lookout for birds ... and there were plenty around.  Unfortunately, they were adept at hiding and would cheerfully trill and sing from the hedgerows and thickets.  However ...

Guillemots 

A yet to be identified kestrel

Stone pipit

LBJ ... little brown job

Pheasant

Meadow pipit

Stonechat

Yellowhammer

We had a day off at Abbotsbury, a delightful little village full of thatched cottages, ruined abbeys and, of all things, a swannery!  Before Henry the VIII destroyed their place, the monks of Abbotsbury used to farm swans for food.  Unfortunately, swan tastes rather horrid (oily, fishy, tough and disgusting) so they would kill the cygnets before they got too oily, fishy etc.  These are the only swans in England that don't belong to the king!  Mind you, swans only belong to the king if he asks them to ... he has a royal tagger who has the fascinating job of going around and tagging swans for King Charles.  Hmmm. Almost as good a job as the Guinness Quality Control man.  We went to watch the swans being fed and learned quite a lot about the breeding of these beautiful large birds.  There were 3 feral Australian black swans (escapees from a zoo or something) and they looked quite puny and insignificant when beside the white mute swans.

Coot chicks

They feed the chicks and parents cut eel grass and wheat

There were a lot of swans there

St Catherine's Chapel

But in case you thought we were wandering about, alone on the cliffs and far from the crowds ... think again.  Weekends were busy, the beaches were full of rather pink English tourists who were getting their fill of icecream, fish and chips and sun.  Unfortunately, they don't seem to have discovered sunscreen yet and do tend to drink gin at strange times of the day and in very bizarre places.  And they rather like to congregate in 'caravan parks' that resemble army barracks more than anything else.

The caravan parks went on and on.  You could buy one, stay for a fraction of the year and then the park would rent out your van for the rest of the year ... paying you a (small?) percent of their takings.

Evidently, you hire a little beach hut and then sit outside it with some friends and drink G&Ts.  

And then there were the Naturist Beaches ... that was fun walking through them!

But we have finished.  And there's so much more I can show you and tell you about.  But I guess you'll just have to wait until some later time.  Today I said goodbye to Liz, who is off to sample the delights of Bath before flying home.  And I'm getting on the ferry tomorrow to go to Jersey.  Onward!

Walking the South West Coast Path

Liz and I have just finished our first six days of walking the South West Coast Path.  Phew!  We have ended up in Plymouth where we have had a rest day ... and a well deserved rest day, even if I say so myself.  And I've been very pleased with the various bits and pieces of Anthea that don't work quite as well as they used to ... they have held together and held me up and I'm now ready and raring to go on the next section of this amazing walk!

We have been incredibly lucky with the weather - warm, beautiful days with a lovely cool sea breeze - the best possible walking weather!  It is about to change but ... this is England!  I almost expect the rain and wind and cold - anything else is a bonus.  So instead of waffling on and trying to think of ten different ways to describe the Cornish coastline, let's just look at where I have been.

On Day 1, Porthluney to Mevagissey (9 miles), we felt like this was a bit of a warm up.  Some ups and downs but nothing too dramatic ... and the scenery was lovely.  Even better, we were returning to Mevagissey for a second night in a VERY comfortable B&B.  After this, everywhere will be compared to Fran's place and definitely Fran's breakfasts.

Aaahh! How lovely!

We watched a sea rescue practice ... we worked out that they were practising because they kept dropping the poor guy back into the water and then rescuing him again.  So either it was an exercise or they were really bad at it or they didn't like him very much.

Me posing in front of a cross reading "In the firm hope of the second coming of our Lord Jesus Christ and for the encouragement of those who strive to serve him, this cross is erected AD 1856".

Down, down, down.

The beautiful fishing port of Mevagissey

Day 2 Mevagissey to Charlestown (7.5 miles) - a lovely day's walk ... they said it was one of the hardest days but I think they were fibbing.  Either that or I am fitter than I thought!  So let's talk about something totally different ... dogs.  Dogs are everywhere.  And I mean everywhere ... cafes, pubs, bakeries, butchers, supermarkets, beaches, buses ... in fact dogs are just expected to be wherever a human is.  It's quite bizarre to me.   

We have quickly got into the habit of finishing off a day's walk at the pub ... pretty easy to do in this land of pubs.  I've become quite fond of Proper Job (from the St Austell brewery) but am not to keen on Doom Bar (sorry Strike ... for those who know the books).  Liz and I like to try a taste of any new real ale and have yet to be really disappointed.

Chute for delivering the china clay onto the boats at Charlestown.

Day 3 Charlestown to Fowey (11.5 miles) - pretty much a stroll in the park

Rook with a book, in Fowey - just one of the MANY references to Daphne du Maurier (amazing how many houses she owned, lived in or visited!)

See the little stick on the point ...

... this is the stick!  A tower on Gribbon Point

Every little village had a small harbour, curling around to protect the fishing boats (and smugglers) from the seas

Day 4 Fowey to Polperro (7.5 miles) - Our path was quite good – although not always obvious.  The cliffs were tall and every so often there would be a grey sandy beach tucked amongst the sharp rocks.  We walked down to one of the beaches and watched a brave man swimming in the cold water of the bay.  The walk was very pleasant and I was thinking that it would be ok when the path deteriorated.  Seriously!  Our whipper snipper man had decided to give up for the final 3.5 miles to Polperro.  So instead of a path, we were walking though nettles and gorse and brambles, unable to see our feet …  the last stretch was not much fun at all.  Finally into Polperro which is gorgeous!  There’s a little harbour and the village stretches up the valley, evidently for about a mile.  

Day 5 Polperro to Crafthole (15 miles) - This was our longest day yet with a 22 km track.  But it really wasn’t that bad, with some steep ups and downs but also some very gentle gradients.  We had started with a fabulous breakfast (the smoked haddock with poached egg was lovely but is quite possibly the last cooked breakfast I’m having - breakfast really isn't my thing!).  We walked along beautiful headlands and past private, tiny beaches.  Through Looe, with the rather lovely island, and on to Seaton.  A bit of road walking (also not my most favourite thing) before back on the track next to the Duchy of Cornwall land.  There were farmers baling hay and a few other walkers around, soaking up the glorious sun.  Then down, down, down to Portwrinkle and then up, up, up to Crafthole.  I said “pub” so we went for a pint at the Finnygook Inn before taking our lives in our hands and walking along the road to the Liscawn Hotel.  This was possibly the creepiest, strangest and worst place I've stayed ... it made Fawlty Towers look like a 5 star hotel.  

Nelson, the one-eyed seal in Looe

More crosses.

Day 6 Crafthole to Plymouth (13 miles) - There was quite a bit of road walking today and we started off walking along quite a busy road that had no verges.  However, the drivers seemed to be unphased by two walkers on the road and they usually slow down and swerve around you.  Usually.  We had to walk along the road because the red flags were up on the firing range … the military were going to be shooting guns and so we couldn’t walk on the path.  Road.  More road.  Through little holiday villages with cabins cascading down the cliffs.  We wondered how they were built since there were only walking tracks down to each dwelling.  Where were the roads?  How did you transport all the materials?  On and on to Rame Head and then out to the tip where there was an old chapel.  And a howling wind.  We sat out of the wind for a break and then onward to Cawsand and then Plymouth.

The chapel on Rame Head