South Cornwall Coastal Path
I was struggling to find routes to do this time. Most of the
ones I really wanted to do were too long to get done in a week and most of the
other attractive routes were much less than one week. As those of you who have
read our other stories will know Midge and I like to get about 150 to 180 miles
done in a week backpacking, anything shorter than this and we get a bit
fractious.
I have walked much of the South west coastal path (SWCP) over
the years but I have never done it as a single expedition. At over 650 miles
the SWCP is a major undertaking and must rank as one of the best walks in
Europe. I decided to do the section from Land’s End to Plymouth. I knew the
area around Land’s End well having been there many times rock climbing and The
Missus and I had holidayed in Cornwall and the Lizard many times. A little
short of 160 miles with plenty of up and down this would suit for a week-long
trip and I had never done any of the section between Helford and the Rame Peninsular.
Doing a coastal path sounds like and easy option compared to a cross country
mountain route but according to the best information I could get the ascent on
this section is about 9200 metres, compare that with the Coast to Coast (180
miles) of just under 7000 metres and you can appreciate this is no easy
journey.
It looked like it was going to be expensive to get there and
back; the mysteries of train booking and fare structure make their regular
appearance in this blog. I kept looking at the price of a ticket from Melton to
Penzance, it remained stubbornly at £114 single. I had made my decision to go
and The Missus told me to book it “irrespective of the price” (not a phrase
heard from her very often). It looked like I was going to have to submit to the
extortion of the railways. I logged on to the website £37.50!! How and why the
price had dropped over night I do not know but I booked it before they changed
their minds. The fare back from Plymouth had come down from £120 to £88 one way
but by booking a ticket from Plymouth to Birmingham then Birmingham to Melton I
got it for £27.50. There are no greater mysteries in the world than this, the
form and structure of Dark Matter is as nothing compared to the UK train
pricing system.
Midge was happy to get on the train to Birmingham and he did
not seem to mind New Street station quite as much as he usually does. In his
older age he seems a little more relaxed about travelling. We had just got off
the train when a lady approached us “Is it Paul and Midge?” she asked. I
confirmed our identity. The lady was Lorraine a person who was part of the
Wiccaweys family of border collie owners. Lorraine, her partner and Meg her
collie were also heading to Land’s End only they were to travel in the opposite
direction as they heroically set off on their Land’s End to John O’Groats. We
went down to the platform and met Meg who told Midge in no uncertain terms that
she would re-arrange his features and remove those stupid oversized ears from
the top of his bouffant hair-do. We wished them good luck and went to the
opposite end of the platform. (Unfortunately they were eventually battered into
submission by the weather and suspended their journey until the conditions
improved).
Interestingly Lorraine and co had embarked our train from
Melton near Stansted and were en-route to the same destination of Penzance.
However, my ticket required me to leave the Plymouth train at Exeter whereas
Lorraine was to travel to Plymouth. I then had to catch the Penzance train
which Lorraine would join later – strange.
The train to Exeter was crowded but we had booked a seat. I
found it and was just settling Midge in when a grumpy old git said “That is my
seat!” I smiled and told him I had a reservation. “Not that seat this seat”, he
snapped as he pointed to the seat next to me “And your dog is in the way. Get
it out of here!” I explained that he had every right to be on the train and if
he only gave me a minute Midge would go under my seat and be out of his way.
“Get your dog out of there, he can’t sit down with that dog there, it shouldn’t
be on the train, put it in the guard’s van where it belongs!” a woman of a
similar age I took to be his wife butted in. I repeated that Midge had every
right to travel and Midge wriggled under the seat out of the way. “Dogs should
be banned from trains!” said Mr Grumpy as he sat next to me “I would sooner
they banned grumpy people” I retorted and we sat in silence. Midge did not stir
for the rest of the journey.
For your information dear reader a railway ticket entitles
you to take a dog, a cat and a basket of fowls with you. At moments like this I
wish I had remembered the basket of fowls.
Part way through the journey Mr Grumpy fell asleep and
lolled with his head on my shoulder. He woke up with a start and mumbled an
apology. “It’s OK” I said in a syrupy voice “I thought you were straight”. This
witticism seemed lost on him but he looked a bit worried for the rest of the
journey. He left at Taunton and I noticed the old bag who had been so vocal was
not with him, so was nothing to do with him, other than wanting to put her oar
in. She changed seats as people left and immediately put her bag on the seat
next to her to deter anyone else sitting there as the passengers crowded on. Hypocrite.
A young guy sat next to me and saw Midge’s foot sticking out. “You got a dog?”
I said I had “Cool!” he replied and he reached under the seat to make a fuss of
Midge; how pleasing and how different.
We left the train in Exeter in the company of an elderly Somerset
company who were also off to Cornwall for their holiday. They fussed Midge as
we prepared to disembark. As is often our experience on these trips they
cuddled Midge as they told us of their recently departed Labrador, the lady
dabbing her eyes and apologising for being so soft. They sat on a bench on the
platform while the lady continued to cuddle Midge. As soon as the lady had
herself settled she reached into her large handbag and brought out a plastic
bottle of pre-mixed whisky and lemonade and poured it into a glass specially
brought along for the occasion. “I like to have drink with my lunch” she said
and brought out a large pack of sandwiches to go with her aperitif. She was of
a size which suggested she had probably enjoyed a substantial breakfast and after
this significant lunch would be enjoying an even larger dinner later.
On leaving Plymouth the weather showed the shape of things
to come. Hail rattled the windows intermittently between the torrential
downpours. The steep fields of Cornwall were running with water and the soaked
ground was unable to absorb the onslaught. Streams ran a dirty reddish colour,
choked with soil washed from the fields. “This is not a good start” I said to
Midge.
There would be a bit of a delay between the train’s arrival
in Penzance and the bus to Land’s End. Meg had already made her opinion of
Midge known so I thought it would be best to avoid sharing the bus. I therefore
phoned a cab and we were met at the station for our transfer to Land’s End.
Tony the taxi driver was a garrulous individual and kept up a constant stream
of conversation. After 20 minutes he dropped us off at the dreadful Land’s End
Experience. The heavy clouds were gathering, the wind was increasing and the
temperature was dropping. Midge was bursting for a pee poor lad after such a
long journey.
We headed to the famous signpost, a group of bikers were
lining up for an official photo before they headed north. They commandeered
Midge as a mascot for their photo and he enjoyed all the attention as they fussed
him. I told him to sit and he had his photo taken with them. I took his sitting
proudly between powerful motor bikes and leather-clad lads and lasses.
It is an easy journey from Land’s End to Treen where we were
to camp; there was little sense in going any further tonight. It would mean a
long day tomorrow but if the forecast was to be believed we were going to have
some sun.
The keen wind increased as were progressed to Porthgwarra
until it started the first of the batterings that were to be a feature of this
trip. The sky darkened and a ferocious hailstorm covered the ground with pea
sized ice to the depth of over half an inch in minutes. I pulled my hat and
hood down and made sure all exposed skin was covered from the stinging hail.
Midge unfortunately could not cover his tender black button nose from the pain
of the hail and he cuddled close to me to shelter this most tender of his parts.
The paths were dreadfully muddy and Midge was filthy in
minutes. We nipped down to Nanzijal Bay once the hail retreated to leave
vigorous wind driven drizzle in its place. It was here that Midge’s problems
were made manifest for the first time. Midge is becoming blind. This is rather
distressing for both of us. Midge still wants to perform his sheepdog training
tricks and loves to run and leap over objects but he can no longer do it. At
home you would scarcely notice, he is so familiar with our regular walks that
he knows every stile, ditch and fence but here in Cornwall he was struggling
with rocks and steps to the beach and his lack of sight was made clear. The
problems started years ago. We were invited to stay with friends and Midge was
included in the invitation. The friends had cats but we were reassured that
they were fine with dogs and there would be no problem. This was not at all the
case. The tom cat of the house objected to Midge’s presence immediately and
attacked Midge in a flurry of claws. Midge retaliated but I told Midge “No!” so
the poor boy just stood there and took it all – totally obedient to his Dad.
The first attack did no real damage and we managed to keep the two of them
apart. The next day I went upstairs and Midge wondered where I had gone. He put
his head around the door and the cat attacked and scraped its claws straight
across his right eyeball. This instigated a reaction in his eye resulting in a
cataract making him gradually blind in that eye. He now was developing a
cataract in the left eye further restricting his vision.
I was to realise on this trip just how little Midge could
actually see. I reckoned that he had only about one third of his field of
vision left. I had bought him a bright fluorescent yellow ball so he could see
it better and I would have to make sure he kept pretty close to me on the
cliff-edges.
The torrential rain had reduced to a fast drizzle and Midge
was filthy. We arrived at the excellent Treen campsite. Should I put the tent
up now (5pm) or go to the pub and hope it would dry up a little? I booked in
with the very friendly young lad and the drizzle abated a little so I
positioned my tent out of the wind and went into the shop for a welcome cup of
tea. I was not sure of the price of the campsite but when I said I was
backpacking on the SWCP the price was a fiver – excellent value!
I had been looking forward to go to the Logan’s Rock Inn, I
used to frequent this place when down here climbing and remembered it as an
excellent place to eat and drink. We went down the dreadfully muddy lane to the
pub and Midge added a little more filth to his fur. The pub was empty except for
a three people at one table. All the other tables in the bar had reserved signs
on them. I asked if I could sit at one as the table was not booked until 8.30 –
it was just after 6. I was told I could not just in case the people came early!
I asked if there was anywhere to sit to have a meal. There was room in the
upper bar but you would have to be out by 8.30 but your dog can’t go in there.
This seemed strange. Eventually I was directed to the cheerless and cold family
room.
I had a pint – for the princely sum of £3.70 and ordered the
house special fish pie with “locally sourced fish” at £10.75. The thing arrived
nuclear hot from the microwave – I knew this because the contents were
super-heated and the bowl was just warm. Now I don’t know how long Salmon has
been a Cornish fish but I figured locally
source could have meant from the local Aldi. If there was 4 ounces of fish
I would have been surprised. This was in white glue and covered with more mush
in the shape of semi liquid mashed potato. After I had eaten the waitress came
to remove the plate and gave a vacuous “Everything alright for you?” I told her
that it was fortunate that I had made myself a very hearty packed lunch so the
portion size was sufficient for someone who was not starving thank you. “No
problem” was her deaf-eared reply.
I sat in this miserable place watching the rain fall until I
thought it time to leave as the rain showed no sign of stopping. The evening
was improved a little by chatting to a lovely couple from Ireland now resident
in north Wales. They were rock-climbers so we had a great chat about climbing
and they asked me about the nature of the local routes and sought
recommendations – if the rain stopped.
I corralled Midge onto his mat in the tent; the poor lad was
wet and filthy. I told him he had to stop there all night and no moving off it.
Unfortunately he did so he got told off in the early hours which upset him for
the next few hours; he hates his Dad telling him off and is inconsolable.
The wind blew and the hail rattled the tent. Tonight was the
100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic and I knew a short
distance from me at the open-air Miniack theatre a sell out crowd were sitting
in the teeth of the storm to watch Titanic
the Musical which was to start at 10.30pm and at 11.40, the exact time of
the collision with the iceberg, the audience would be experiencing the
conditions all those years ago on that bleak night first hand. According to
Tony the taxi driver the producer was intending to flood the front few rows of
seats to get a bit of audience participation. He need not have bothered, I
reckoned they would be flooded already.
My gloomy mood was made more so by Midge’s stumbling,
tripping and walking into objects because of his poor sight. I had to shake
this feeling off. I was on the coast path in the sun with my lovely lad; what
else would I rather be doing? On the easier sections Midge trotted on ahead but
if he lagged behind I stopped to make sure he was OK and knew where I had gone.
His nose and ears are very acute and he never took a wrong turn but all the
same, where the path was near to edge, such as coming into Lamorna Cove, I made
sure he was right by me.
We were in Penzance in no time and even though it was Sunday
most of the shops were open so I was able to get a couple of disposable
cameras. I also had my breakfast – a pasty. This was to be the defy Chancellor
George Osbourne trip – eat as many pasties as I could manage. The Cornish were
very upset about the VAT to be added to this most traditional of their snacks.
Midge was walking on my right side as we walked down the
high street to the front and regular boings!
bore witness to his poor vision as he walked into metal lampposts and set them
ringing with his head.
We were just crossing the road by the railway station when I
heard my name called and there was Tony the taxi driver at the rank. “You’re
going the wrong way!” he called. I went over to chat to him and he directed me
to the “right” way. This proved to be along the breakwater eventually leading
to a locked gate. A scramble over rocks and a jump down a wall eventually got
me onto the footpath I had been told to leave. Lesson – never take footpath
directions from a bloke who sits in a car all day.
The path was very easy and flat for the next 6 or more
miles. Most of the beaches we had passed that day said clearly NO DOGS so it
was great to find a beach that did allow Midge to stretch his legs and race
around. We had a good long time throwing his ball as we went along the beach
around to Marazion, Midge raced around wildly doing his sheepdog tricks and
chasing his ball. Nearing Marazion the restrictions returned so we went up onto
the prom. Midge was by my side on the left off the lead but then he gradually
got ahead of me as he often does. He was walking along and I was not watching
him closely when he disappeared off the prom and fell about 8 feet onto the
beach. He had not seen the edge! Fortunately he landed softly and he was
unharmed except for having a mouth full of sand. The poor lad looked
bewildered. Where did the floor go?
St Michael's Mount - I finally take a picture!
It was easy walking all the way to Perranuthoe and it had
only taken a little under 4 hours to get this far and Praa Sands was an easy
hour or so further on so we stopped at a teashop for a cuppa. Even so we still
arrived in Praa Sands by 2.30.
Only ones camping at Praa Sands
The only campsite open was the one at the top of the hill.
We slogged up there and found no sign of anyone so we pitched in the most
sheltered spot we could find; the strong chilling wind was still going
strong. I had a shower and still there
was no one. We played ball. Midge riffled out his ball as I was sitting in the
shelter of the tent reading. Despite his poor eyesight he is pretty accurate
when it comes to throwing the ball through the tent flap to bounce off my head.
I threw the ball, he chased it then threw it back into the tent. On our way to
look for an evening meal for me we finally found someone to pay. I said my
usual “one man, one dog, one small backpacking tent” I was asked if I was walking
the SWCP and after the affirmative it was a fiver again – even though the price
list said £9 for a small tent with up to 2 people.
We went to the Sandbar pub, not really a pub more a bar
which would feel well at home on the beach in California or Australia. The food
and beer in this place were excellent. The views are superb and the staff were
great. I could not fault this place.
A middle aged couple came in with a border collie pup.
People who had previously fussed Midge oohed and aahed over this bundle of
fluff. “She is a pedigree, we got her from a very good dealer with an excellent
reputation” the woman said loudly, repeatedly and unbidden by all those who
petted the pup. I wondered if she was only saying that because Midge was at the
next table. The pup was running them through its’ paws. It demanded and it got.
Eventually it leapt on the table to grab food and instead of being put in its
place it was picked up and cuddled and fed chips from its owners’ plates. If
ever there is a wrong thing to do with a border collie these idiots were
demonstrating it. It looked depressingly like it was on its way to the rescue
home in 3 months.
It was a very cold night, the northerly wind kept up all
night but we were dry and cosy in our tent.
Monday
A big day today not only in distance but also in the amount
of ascent and descent. The feature of this path is the up and down. Most inland
paths follow a logical route making the best use of the land to not only get
from A to B but also in a way to reduce the effort required. Over the years
footpaths developed in a logical way. Not so the coast path, it follows the
coast so what the coast does, it does. The path goes up, not to get anywhere,
it does so only so that it may come down again to repeat the process. This
constant rollercoaster gets very wearing towards the end of the day. The maps
do not really make it very clear where the gradients are and there is little
point in looking ahead along the bay as hidden rises and falls are tucked away.
What looks like a relatively gentle rolling stroll may well disguise
precipitous drops to the beach and back up the headland. This section did all this and it also packed
in a tiring walk on Porthleven sands.
The morning was still – no wind. Which unfortunately meant
the tent was wet with condensation so I opened it up to dry. I always try and
pack up my tent dry and if I cannot I try and dry it as soon as I can. There is
little more dispiriting than putting up a wet tent and getting in it wet, in
the rain.
After Midge had eaten we broke camp and once again a drink
of water was breakfast enough for me. I would eat in Porthleven. We were in
Porthleven in no time and I bought a pasty and a drink and sat by the harbour
eating it. The pasty was very good. We met very few people on the route today
so were alone for much of it – something I really enjoy.
Early morning play on the beach
By the time we reached Mullion by feet were feeling a bit
tired. I had broken in a different pair of boots for this trip but on the first
wet day they leaked like a sieve. This was only a few days before the trip so I
had to buy a pair of Merrills and pretty much wear them straight out of the
box. Fortunately they were great but my feet were still to get used to them. In
my tiredness I completely forgot to take a photograph as we rounded The Lizard
– where we were in the crowds. My feet were really aching by the time we
entered the picture perfect village of Cadgwith. It was still only lunchtime so
I stopped for a single pint (honest). The pub was excellent and I wondered
about eating here this evening, my campsite was under 2 miles on the road from
here.
Familiar Cornish Scene
We continued to Kennack Sands with a bit more energy and
again flogged up the road to the campsite. Campsites are always up hill in
Cornwall I was learning.
We booked in with a slightly camp young lad who once again
charged us only a fiver on learning we were backpacking. I don’t know if this
is official policy in Cornwall but I was starting to like it. It was over cast
and very, very cold. The promise of a westerly wind had not materialised and
the north wind continued. We tried to get out of the wind as best we could.
I left Midge guarding the tent (Welcome all thieves, take
what you want as long as you give me a fuss) and went for a shower. The PA
system in the building kept up a constant stream of 80s music mainly Pet Shop
Boys, George Michael, Michael Jackson, Communards, Sylvester (OK 70s) – I
started to worry about bending for the soap. This was a feature of the place
all day and evening.
Midge was ready for another walk and I wanted to look out
the options for eating. We had a play on the beach; yes, despite around 25+
miles and umpteen thousand feet of ascent Midge was ready to run around.
The only option for food was the Potter’s Bar and what a
strange place it was. I find it hard to describe but if you could imagine a
teenager who wanted a pub for his mates to come around in the 1980s and it sort
of continued into 2012 that was the Potter’s Bar. If the Royles (As in Royle
family TV show) ran a pub this is what it would be like. Various old bits of
furniture, massive flat screen TV, pool table, karaoke machine. Fortunately it
did food and half decent cider (no good beer only lager) and had a cosy stove
by the bar. I called in to gauge the place and chatted to the landlord and his
wife who were nice people if rather chaotic.
I returned later and had fish and chips with mushy peas
which was good. The barman was losing money rapidly on his mobile phone through
spot betting on the Arsenal match and spent most of the night looking at the
big screen, cursing and trying to recoup his losses with another bet only to
lose more. I cannot understand betting, if I lose money betting I feel a proper
prat and that is reason enough for me not to get hooked.
I had promised Midge another walk but it was brief owing to
the cold and freezing wind. And so to bed.
Tuesday 17th
It rained in the night with high winds but by morning it had
stopped and the wind had dropped, which meant the tent stayed wet. I decided to
open the tent to dry and went to wash and brush up in the gay disco (toilet
block) while the tent dried off. I was only in there with the Bee Gees for a
few minutes and when I came out everything was soaking wet. A short sharp
deluge had wet everything. I waited a little longer as it seemed to be drying
again and the same thing happened so I gave up and packed it up wet.
Midge and I played on the beach again on the way out. I had
noticed my knee had swollen the night before and it felt stiff this morning.
This was not helped by the amount of up and down we were to do today.
Nevertheless we made excellent time to Chynhallis Point but then the path
deteriorated, wet muddy rock, very slippery. I slipped and twisted my knee a
couple of times and wished I had brought walking poles. This was without doubt
the worst section of the whole route and I was happy when it was over. We
arrived in Coverack at 9.30 having taken less than an hour to get there and
nothing was open so no breakfast pasty for me. I had only had a drink of water
so supplemented this with some trail mix.
I caught up with a couple of people nearing Dean Point. The
first I tried to engage in conversation but the poor chap had such a dreadful
stammer he almost fell over in the effort to speak so I wished him luck and
trotted past him. The second was an older chap who asked up where we were going
to and from and thought we must be superhuman (hardly!).
We went through the ugly quarry and Dean point and it is
here that the route goes inland to avoid more quarries. Indeed with the
exception of a brief visit to Porthoustock you keep off the coast until
Porthallow. We arrived in Porthallow well before 11, too early for the pub and
nowhere else was open so we pressed on. It was now that it started raining
heavily.
The walking from Porthallow to Gillan harbour is easy and we
raced along in the rain and gales. The tide was out so we were able to cross
the estuary easily, although Midge insisted in making a return trip swimming
across, finally completing the crossing over the stepping stones for good
measure. I was wondering whether to take off my waterproof because the sun had
come out when, despite the bright sunshine, it started hammering it down. We
headed for Dennis Head and the heavens really opened and the wind almost
knocked us off our feet. We scurried behind a wall and found an old couple
hiding there too so we chatted while the storm abated.
The woodland walk to Helford was like the Somme, we slipped
and skidded our way through what I am sure is a wonderful walk in spring with
the wild flowers, but today it was a job keeping on your feet. We were covered
in thick black mud in no time. We were black and dripping when we arrived in
Treath where an old Chapel has been converted into a tea shop. It said Dogs
Welcome. I said to Midge there is a welcome for dogs but there might not be a
welcome for wet-through black muddy dogs so I went inside to enquire. The two
young women running the place could not have been more welcoming and insisted
Midge came in and he was given biscuits and water. I had a sensational Crab
sandwich and a pot of tea and I highly recommend this place.
When we left the rain had stopped and we continued to the
ferry and turned the marker to let the ferryman on the opposite bank know we
wanted to cross. I threw a stick in the water for Midge and he dutifully went
in after it a couple of times and therefore I managed to get him reasonably
clean. We were to stay in a B+B tonight as a treat and meet an old friend of
mine for a meal in Mawnan Smith.
The ferryman arrived and Midge hopped in. This was his first
trip on a small boat and I wondered how he would react. He sat there calmly
sniffing the air while I chatted to the ferryman. Then something caught his
attention (nose) – playthings!! His keen scent had picked up the plastic
bollards/fenders and the sides of the boat. Midge loves finding these on the
beach and so these must be playthings – he leaned right out of the boat pawing
them and trying to lift them into the boat to play with as I battled to stop
him falling overboard.
For £4 we got to the other side before Midge did any damage.
He was still nice and clean so I walked up the road to our B+B rather than go
on the footpaths. The B+B was in a lovely old country house set in 15 acres of
garden and was really reasonably priced. We had a huge room with a lovely big
bathroom which I desecrated with my wet tent. After lots of tea and a long walk
around the gardens accompanied by the owners two dogs, Midge finding tennis
balls as though they were breeding in the undergrowth, we went to meet my
friend Louis in the local pub. The Red lion does good food and beer and I spent
a lovely convivial evening with Louis and his wife.
Midge in our country house room
Wednesday 18th
It had rained very hard all evening and through the night.
We both slept very well in our lovely room. I had to get to Falmouth to get the
ferry over to St Mawes and then take another ferry to Place to continue the
route. The wind had picked up in the night and was now thrashing the trees.
Midge had demanded to go out at 6 and we just got back in before a monsoon
struck again.
Breakfast was good although the fry-up was rather modest by
usual B+B standards. The lady of the manor regaled me with hard luck stories
and tales of difficulties with the National Trust which owned the gardens and
were being a difficult landlord. This type of conversation does not fit easily
with trying to eat breakfast and get out in a short time and took the enjoyment
of the proceedings. However, we were out by 8.40.
I need not have worried, we were in Falmouth in around 40 minutes
from Mawnan Smith. I stopped to get some money out of the cash machine and
heard “It’s Midge, Hello Midge!” it was the couple whom we had sheltered with
the afternoon before in the storm.
I arrived at the ferry terminal way too early and spent the
time chatting to people who kept stopping to fuss Midge including one couple
who had seen us at Lamorna Cove a couple of days earlier who were impressed
with our progress.
Eventually the ticket office opened and we got the 10.15
sailing to St Mawes. It takes about 30minutes to cross and the sea, even in the
relative confines of the Fal estuary, was choppy and the boat rolled in the swell.
We disembarked in St Mawes into the drizzle and looked for the Ferry to Place just
over the estuary. It had been cancelled due to the weather and it would not run
at all today. There was our destination just a few hundred yards away and we
could not get there.
Fortunately the ferry man told me there was a bus to
Porthscatho but not until 11.40 so we had to kick our heels here for an hour. I
went to a little bakery on the quay and had a coffee, then to the tourist info
place, then walked the streets in the rain until giving up and sheltered under
an awning.
The bus arrived and the driver, an Italian, took our fares.
At the appointed time for the bus to leave the driver got off and had a
cigarette. This was obviously planned so he could set of 5 minutes late and
then try and make it up by doing a pretty good impression of training for the
circuit at Monza as he sped around the narrow lanes in a bus which had
rudimentary suspension to say the least. We actually arrived in Porthscatho
early. It was unfortunate that I had missed the section from Place but it could
not be helped and I was not about to turn around and do it so I pressed
forwards. This was a late start for the main walk; we hit the main path at
almost midday.
Finally back on the path at Porthscatho
There was an awful lot of up and down on this section,
almost all of it hidden from view and difficult to discern on the map. I just
had to get my head down and get it done. I almost stopped at the pub in the
pretty village of Porthloe but I decided trail mix and water were good enough.
The wind was dreadful and more than once I feared we might
get blown off the cliff-tops, at times it was hard to make progress. Once we
reached Dodman Point it was so strong that I wondered about the sense in trying
to camp this high up, but there was no alternative nearby that was open. We
arrived at Treveague farm campsite to find no one around as usual. I put my
tent up in a sheltered corner between a hedge and a caravan. I soon had a
neighbour, an old grey bearded and incredibly vague fellow with his jack Russell
arrived. Apparently this chap lives in the caravan all summer and winters in
Weston-Super-mare. After initial grumblings Midge and the JRT got on really
well. Once again, once I found the owners I got the backpacker’s rate of £5.
Once again we had piped disco music in the excellent, warm toilet block.
I was going to go into Gorran Haven to look for dinner but
my elderly neighbour said in his almost undecipherable Somerset accent that no
pub allowed dogs in and I would be better going to Gorran which did not look
much on my map and there was no pub marked “Barley Sheath is what youm want,
yes it is, Barley Sheath, do you well will they.” so I went looking for it. It
turned out to be an excellent pub with great food and a good choice of well
kept beers – a real find. The people loved dogs and there was a variety of well
behaved dogs in there. It was an excellent evening.
The wind was still as strong when we walked home. Midge
found himself an old football so we ran along the lanes playing football on our
way to the site.
Thursday 19th
The wind dropped in the night and a mist developed and the
tent was wet through with condensation. As soon as I let Midge out the wind got
up and the rain started. I looked across the farm to a hill no more than 400m
away, it was sunshining! I hoped the clouds would break and we might get some
sun to dry the tent but no luck; all around us there was sun but we were in the
middle of intermittent heavy showers. I dropped the tent and took it to the
toilet block and hung it up in the wind under shelter to try and dry it out.
After an hour I decided it was as dry as I would get it and we packed up and
headed off about 9. 
Goran Haven
My ankle was giving me some gyp today and the tendons at the
front had swollen. This did not delay us much and we were in Mevagissey soon
where I found a bakery and bought a very good pasty and a large cup of tea and
sat by the harbour out of the wind – and now in the sun- to enjoy it.
There seemed to be a lot of up and down before Charlestown
where I stopped and bought some orange juice. I had figured that I was not
drinking enough so I resolved to try and up my intake. I sat on a seat with the drink and noticed the plaque dedicated the seat to Fred and Rose West - inviting me to sit and relax - surely not THE Fred and Rose West!!
Charlestown
We went around the edge of a Golf Course and Midge, not to
be outdone, found himself a very nice stick with an angle at the end which
looked for all the world like a small golf club which he carried all the way
along the course.
There is a bit of an unpleasant section around the
industrial area by the St Austell docks but we were soon on to Par Sands where
I let Midge have a run around and chase his ball for being so good. After
Polkeris the route around Gribbin Head
is quite easy until you drop to the beach but the fact that Fowey is just
around the corner keeps you motivated.
We arrived in Fowey at 2.30 and I bought food for Midge, We
having run out of his dried dog food so I treated him to tuna and bread for
tonight and the morning. Fowey is a lovely place and I wish I had more time to
look around its narrow streets. We caught the ferry to Polruan, Midge had to
pay this time, 40p. The route up to the campsite is steep but it was the final
pull of the day. It was windy and dry so I dried off the tent where I pitched
it in a sheltered spot. I had a short snooze as I waited for the camp office to
open and give me the codes to access the washrooms.
Once scrubbed up Midge and I went for a walk, the cold wind
cut it short as I wanted my dinner so we headed back down the hill and chose to
eat in the Lugger Inn on the Harbour. The beer was good and I had Crab cakes
(OK) and steak pie (pretty good) until I felt I could hardly move. This made
the trip up the hill difficult.
Friday 20th
It rained in the night but by morning it had stopped and the
day was still and the tent soaked again. Everywhere was wet and there seemed
little prospect of drying the tent off even though I draped it over some swings
in an effort to do so. I drank plenty of
water but did not feel like eating so skipped the trail mix. Showers were
gathering and coming towards us so I decided to head off and we hit the coast path at 8.45. After less
than an hour walking we got into a sheltered cove with a nice breeze which had
the sun so I unpacked the tent and dried it off on a bench. Feeling satisfied
with this house keeping I thought I should eat something but simply could not.
I don’t mean did not, I just could not seem to swallow – my stomach seemed
reluctant to accept water and trail mix – strange. 
Morning on the path beyond Polruan
Drying the tent
We saw no one until we reached Polperro where I bought a
bottle of drink and tried to get it down me. At 11 the rain and hail started
and we were thrashed for most of the rest of the way to Looe. I still had not
had anything to eat so in Looe I bought a drink and a pasty which I tried. The
pasty tasted awful, I am sure in retrospect it was not, I just could not eat it;
I felt sick. I gave it to Midge who accepted it gratefully and wolfed it down.
I had a feeling of indigestion and my pace really slowed up.
Midge finds a friend
As we approached Seaton we met an elderly couple on their
way to Portwrinkle, they were doing the SWCP in sections and had come from
Helford a few days earlier. They would be back later in the year to continue to
Plymouth and beyond.
Midge and I played on the beach at Seaton in the rain and
wind. The campsite was up the steepest hill so far and I felt dreadful. I had
to stop repeatedly due to nausea and fatigue. “I’m not a well lad” I said to
Midge, he looked concerned.
We arrived at the campsite of Trerieve farm, its website had
looked good when I was researching this trip and it was the only campsite
between Polruan and the Rame peninsula. It proved to be very, very basic with
one toilet, one shower and one tap. It was hammering down as I approached and
the lady of the house invited me in out of the rain. I was thankful to sit
down. The son made me a cup of tea in the
kitchen.
The house from the outside looked ordinary enough, an 18th
century farmhouse, inside it was a shell. It looked as though the house had
been abandoned for 40 years and they had just moved in. A bran new Raeburn
contrasted with the bare crumbling plaster walls and ancient decrepit units.
The doors were battered and one was no longer on both its hinges. There were no
signs of building or restoration going on, I assumed this is how they lived. A
huge farmhouse table perhaps 9 feet long dominated the kitchen and was covered
with bills, receipts and forms which the farmer and his wife bickered over. It
was a scene which would have looked well in a Dickens novel.
I asked to settle up, £8 was the quick reply, no backpacker
price here – or perhaps the tea was £3? Not good value compared to the rest. The
field was grass about 8inches long which meant we could not keep dry even if it
were to stop raining. I pitched my thankfully dry tent in the lea of the hedge
to try and get out of the battering winds. I got out of my waterproofs and into
the tent and flopped. Within minutes Midge’s ball flew through the tent opening
and landed wetly on my sleeping bag. He wanted to play. It having stopped raining we played for a
while but soon the hail and torrential rain started again and even Midge wanted
to come in. I let him cower under the flysheet at the tent entrance; he could
not come in properly until we went to bed.
Playing will make you feel better Dad!
I lay on the bed shivering, my body wracked with
convulsions. I put on layers of clothes and got into my sleeping bag to stop
the shivering, it did not work. Around 6 I figured I would have to eat
something I had not eaten and had drunk little all day and had covered not much
short of 20 miles, I was running on empty. The rain stopped so we headed for
the Inn on the Beach and nice modern pub. I still did not feel like eating but
I thought I might manage a bowl of soup and a pasta starter to follow.
I am sure both were very good but I simply could not
swallow. I managed half of the soup, none of the roll and a few pieces of pasta
with a J2O. I sat reading my book hoping Midge might dry off a little. After a
couple of hours I thought I had better get to my bed. I was just settling up the
bill when I realised I was about to throw up. I hurriedly got my change and ran
for the toilet just getting there before I heaved.
The walk back up the hill was purgatory for me. I struggled
out of my waterproofs and got into bed in all my clothes and settled Midge down
beside me. I sorted out a plastic bag just in case of a repeat performance of
the throwing up. I woke up around 11, it was chucking it down again. I was aware of what had woken me up, a sure feeling that I was about to throw up. I opened the tent to where I had put the plastic bag and had just got my head into it when I chucked up with terrific force. Once it was over I carefully lay back down.
I had a dreadful night, I could not sleep and waves of
nausea flooded over me. Around 1 o-clock I was fully awake again listening to
the incessant rain hammering down. It was the turn of the nether extremities to
empty itself. I had to move carefully, one false move would mean getting my
pants full. I struggled over Midge who repeatedly tried to get out of the tent.
I did not want to deal with a soaking dog as well so I yelled at him to stay
put. This he did, right in the doorway making it even more difficult for me to
get out. I tried to move him but he just rolled on his back supplicating “I
don’t know what you mean Dad!” and he effectively blocked the doorway. Carefully but with as much speed as I could
muster I got upright trying not to increase my intra-abdominal pressure any
more than that necessary. With both legs and buttocks so tightly nipped
together I must have looked as though I had inadvertently got both legs down
one trouser leg I minced to the toilet in the pitch black. I had no torch, why
would I need a torch in April, I won’t be going out in the dark!
I made it across the field and farmyard to the thankfully, new and pleasant toilet. I adjusted my attire and sat. For a moment I thought someone had played a trick on me and flushed the toilet such was the noise, it took a while for me to realise that the noise was me! This was confirmed when it happened a second time. There was nothing solid only all that water and J20 I had drunk. I stumbled back to the campsite and got back into bed. Mercifully I slept for 3 hours until I had to repeat the performance again in the pouring rain.
Saturday 21st
At 5.30 I started to think about my options. I had about 17
miles to go and having had no food or drink for about 20 hours I assessed my
chances of completing as slim. I would pack up and try to get on the best I
could; start early and go slow. We had packed up by 6.15 and I made an agonised
walk down the hill. I drank water regularly to try to rehydrate. As I walked
down the hill I could map the journey the water was taking through my
intestine. By the time I reached the foot of the hill and the village it was
travelling along the ascending colon, as I got into the centre it was in the
transverse colon and I rushed to the toilets as it entered the descending colon
and sat down just in time for the 500mls of water I had drunk to make a hurried
exit.
I walked along the road to the start of the path proper and
followed it. At the first hill I struggled, there was no energy in my legs I
walked only a few metres before I had to stop. There was no way I was going to
make 17miles. I wandered back into the village to assess my options again.
Early morning waiting for the bus which never came
As I came back into the village I noticed a bus stop I had
not seen the previous evening. Now in rural areas a bus stop does not always mean
a bus so imagine my surprise when I saw there was indeed a bus at 8; it was now
7 so I went to the beach so Midge could be off the lead and have a run. After another
visit to the toilets I went to the bus stop. Five minutes after the stated time
I was still there. A chap passed me and I asked him if there was a bus,
apparently only on a School day the next bus was three hours time.
As I was talking to this chap the post office opened and I
went in to see what they might have to help me. Nothing was the real answer but
they did have Lucozade. If I could absorb the glucose in this I might get
enough energy to get going again. I bought a bottle and took a drink.
I went back to the point I had previously turned around,
this time I was determined not to stop. Despite the agony in my legs I passed
my previous point and carried on. After about 30 minutes I seemed to hit my
stride I just shut my mind and got on with the job. I was in Portwrinkle in not
much more than an hour still sipping the Lucozade. The route became much easier
from here and I chose to take the route at the side of the road over the military
firing ranges. Easy road walking following the route took me to Tregonhawke. I
doubted I had the resources to go around the Rame Peninsula. I had planned to
do so and spend the evening in Kingsand and explore this area but at the moment
all I could think of was getting home to my bed.
I headed inland to Millbrook and bought more Lucozade in the
shop near the harbour. I was moving well now and the guts seemed to have calmed
down. We left the road at the end of Millbrook Lake and followed the coast to
Empacombe and then to the ferry at Cremyll. As soon as we reached the terminal
I dived into the toilets and left behind about 700ml of Lucozade. God only
knows what I had been running on for the last 12 miles but I certainly had not
absorbed any food or water for more than 24 hours. We actually reached the Ferry by 11.00 only
3hours after setting off from Downderry. Perhaps we could have completed the
whole Peninsula? I was just happy to be going home.
Made it! Waiting at Cremyll for the ferry to Plymouth
Midge was filthy so we played in the water until he was
clean and then hopped on the ferry to Plymouth. We had to pay the full price
train fare home but in the state I was in I thought this was worth it. The Missus
met us at the railway station in Melton.
I had not had a pee since Friday morning and did not manage another one
until Sunday morning such was my state of dehydration.
This was an excellent route and although I missed off much
of the Rame Peninsula I figured we did a pretty fair job considering.