Picture the scene: rookie squaddies on parade for the first time, the 6’4” Sergeant Major walking down the line. He shouts as only a Sergeant Major can. He passes the first squaddie, smacks his head and orders him to get a haircut; the second squaddie, he pulls by the ear and pronounces that no effeminate earrings or piercings are allowed in his squad. He walks up to me puts his face close up to mine and shouts, ‘Did you check whether the coast path would be closed between Lulworth and Kimmeridge as it’s an MOD firing range?’ The answer, of course, was, NO. It didn’t even occur to me that it would be closed. Now to make matters worse, not only was the South West Coast Path closed during the week, but this weekend was one of only six in the whole year, when it was also closed!

So Carolynn and I arrived, as we always do, at the end of the first day’s walk only to find that the path was closed due to the MOD using it as a live firing range; however, we were told that it would be open at the weekend. Now some people say that I can be a little dim, but even I’m not stupid enough to walk across a live firing range and to be honest it’s not actually possible to get onto the path as the way is barred by a 10′ high fence with razor wire running along the top. So now I had to quickly come up with a plan B before Andrew and Caroline arrived. ‘Plan B’ was pretty simple; we would do day two of the walk on the first day, which was a Thursday, take Friday off and do day one on Saturday and the final day on Sunday… all’s good, it just meant that a short first day would have to be replaced by the longer second day.

So we took a car to the end of day two, Anvil Point Lighthouse, and walked west with the sea on our left. Strange, as for the last 600 miles the sea had always been on our right. The path from the lighthouse followed a high, but level route to St Alban’s Head.

The whole of this area was used for the quarrying of Purbeck Stone and Dancing Ledge was used as a harbour for removing the stone because of its deep drop off. It’s also the site of a swimming pool blasted into the rock for the local primary schools… I assume H&S means that it’s no longer used as such now… not sure what the Sergeant Major would have to say about that! Namby pambies or words to that effect!

We had a sixth member joining our group for this last push: Kate. But because of the change to ‘Plan B’ we had to arrange a new meeting place. It appears that Google Maps works differently on her phone than ours. Of course, she put the correct postcode into her phone, there was no doubting that, however Google took her to Studland Bay, a somewhat different location than where we were! However, when we reached St Alban’s Head, our agreed meeting place, she, of course, was there waiting, full of life as always.

Looking at the map, in hindsight, there is a clue as to what was about to come, which, like the MOD shutting the path for war games, I missed!

One walker in a report says, ‘Prepare yourself for going down a gazillion steps into a combe and then back up again.’ I believe ‘gazillion’ is an understatement. We’ve come across these step hidden valleys before. You don’t know that they are there. All looks flat from the walker’s perspective. Then ‘Bang’ a great gaping valley appears, with a vertical descent and then a vertical ascent, with no real apparent progress, except that your lungs and heart are fighting to get out of your body and break free. The walking, after the hidden valley, became easier as we headed along the Kimmeridge Ledges, waist high in vegetation along this rollercoaster section of the path.

We descend into Kimmeridge Bay where the car is parked in the early evening, probably our latest finish.

On the Friday we pottered about Corfe Castle, had lunch in the rain, waiting impatiently for Saturday to do the section of the path that was closed due to the MOD inconsiderately using the area as a firing range… I’m not at all upset at their inappropriate use of our path. On Saturday we headed for the same car park as we did on Thursday only to be told that the MOD hadn’t yet finished and this weekend was one of only six in the whole year that they would be using it for further live firing! Devastating news, it meant that no matter what we decided to do we wouldn’t complete the South West Coast Path on this trip. Disappointing.

Instead, we walked the final day. The start of that day was at the same place we were staying, at the lighthouse on Anvil Point. Like the other four lighthouses we’ve stayed in whilst walking the path, it was in a setting that cleared and relaxed the mind.

Today was both full of excitement and anti-climax. We were going to finish the walk, but not finish it! A paradox!

The walk was through Swanage, a seaside resort that could be anywhere on the English east coast and then onto Old Harry Rocks, with its striking chalk stacks and arches that were once part of a ridge that went all the way to the Isle of Wight.

From here the path descended to Studland Bay and a 5km walk along the beach to South Haven Point and the end of ‘The Path’ and our walk. This section is, I believe, what both Andrew and Carolynn thought the path would be all the way, rather than having to ascend and descent Everest three and a half times. I can’t think of anything more mind numbing than a 1,050km walk along a flat beach and I know Andrew and Carolynn would now agree.

‘I Would Not End an End’, a private joke between Andrew and myself, dating back to our A-Levels. A Phil Collins song ‘In the Air Tonight’: Andrew always insisted that the lyrics were ‘I would not end an end’ but it was, as we all know ‘I would not lend a hand’. In this case Andrew’s interpretation is more apt. I’ll be honest I didn’t want it to end; I’ve spent more time with my best friend since our childhood. Not only did it bring back old memories, but the path created new ones, ones I hope we will reminisce over in a few years’ time, as we look back over our glory years.

Besides Andrew and me there were three others in the group. Firstly Carolynn. I wrote in ‘Ramblings from the Roof of the World’, a photographic book I had printed after a couple of my trips to the Himalaya:

‘This photographic journey of the Himalaya is dedicated to my wonderful wife… she might not know why and she might not understand why, but her love always travels with me.’

I hope this walk has helped her to know and understand why.

Secondly Caroline. She probably has more determination than all of us. She is the only one to have completed every section at the first attempt. She walks alongside silently, thoughtfully, and listens, a rare and wonderful trait.

Last but not least, Lottie. She’ll sit at my feet, tail wagging and looking up at me with those irresistible eyes saying, ‘When is the next walk, Uncle Charles?’… well Lottie it’s coming, I promise.

The final instalment will come, that last 11.5km will be completed… very soon.

The only mention I’m going to give to Covid 19 is that it has meant that we have had to postpone all three trips we had planned to the SWCP in the early part of this year. We decided to postpone them for a full year, so 2021 looks like being the year that we finish.

In the meantime, Carolynn suggested that we revisited the sections of the path that she hadn’t yet completed. So I booked two trips for October: one to Exmouth and the section we did nearly a year ago now and one to the Cornish coast made famous by the TV series Poldark in a small village called Botallack. In my complete and utter selfishness I didn’t initially ask Andrew and Caroline if they wanted to join us. I assumed that as they’d already completed those walks they wouldn’t want to repeat them… as per usual I was mistaken and I’m extremely glad to say that they joined us for the Exmouth trip but not the Botallack trip as I’d only booked a one bedroom National Trust cottage! I’d also booked a flat in Exmouth that didn’t allow pets, I wasn’t popular especially with Lottie!

Kate lives just off the M5 and is perfectly placed for the first stop, two hours’ drive from Lutterworth and it’s not unusual for us to take a break and sometimes we even manage to meet Andrew and Caroline there. Normally though, our timings are out of sync, but not this time. Kate, well she was her usual self, bees flying around the kitchen (honey bees from the hives outside), the kitchen in full use! But as always, a wonderful open-hearted welcome with coffee and biscuits and two jars of honey to take home.

We started in-between the rain showers, reaching the Teignmouth ferry as it was about to leave. The walk to the end of our day through Teignmouth and past the pier was straightforward and except for the last kilometre or so, pretty much of it was flat. An easy day, except for the climb up to the top floor of the five storey Victorian terraced house that we were staying in… but what a view, worth every one of the hundreds of steps… well, felt like it, anyway.

Kate and Merlot joined us for today’s walk. The first part was as yesterday, walking beside the railway, until we reached Starcross where the ferry would take us to Exmouth and the gateway to the World Heritage Jurassic Coast that begins at the town’s five metre high futuristic cone of the Geoneedle at Orcombe Point.

The Edwardian, Victorian and Georgian architecture of the town made it a pleasure to walk through. I suppose it takes me back to a less chaotic time, a time when houses were built with character and not thrown up 20 to an acre! This second walk through Exmouth was one of appreciation rather than a town, that happened to be on the path, this time it wasn’t just a means to an end. Have I made the same mistake whilst walking through the other major conurbations that we’ve walked through on the SWCP? Have I missed an important part of our heritage by walking with blinkers on through the many other beautiful coastal towns? It’s a heritage that’s less permanent than the headlands, coves and estuaries that we have passed, and they will be there long after that that was created by Man…

We spent most of lunchtime and the early afternoon looking for a shelter that didn’t exist! Andrew was convinced that the RAF shelter that we stopped at last year, was between Exmouth and Budleigh Salterton. He was mistaken and a late lunch was taken at the café on the promenade at Budleigh Salterton, where Andrew and I sat chatting and the girls built stone towers…

As we had the time, we decided to split the following day into two, the first half Budleigh Salterton to Sidmouth, a morning’s walk over reasonably easy terrain. Andrew twisted his knee the day before and after a couple of kilometres decided that there was no point in making it worse as he’d done this section with Caroline, Lottie and me last November, so opted to meet us at Sidmouth. It was on this section that we found the RAF shelter Andrew was looking for the day before, a little before lunchtime, but we thought that to honour Andrew and his memory, we’d sit comfortably and eat our elevenses at least!

On the way into Sidmouth, Caroline insisted that we all search for the treasured gloves that she lost the previous November (11 months ago)! Strangely enough we didn’t find them. I think she was genuinely disappointed! There was a very good reason for finishing at Sidmouth, a reason I know all ice cream connoisseurs will appreciate… an ice cream topped with clotted cream, a trillion, zillion calories and a sugar rush that’s unrivalled… heaven!

Andrew and Caroline had to drive home early Monday morning, so Carolynn and I walked the short final stretch to Branscombe on our own. I’d forgotten how tough the day was. It was reminiscent of the days on the north Cornish coast as you crested one headland only to find a steep decent waiting and that inevitable ascent up the other side.

Just before we entered Branscombe Mouth the expected and forecasted rain began and we both smiled knowingly as we drank a welcome cup of coffee, changed in the car and started our long drive home.

Carolynn and I made our way down to the south-west for one last time this year. We were staying in a National Trust cottage called The Count House, just about the middle point of the one day’s walk we had come down to complete: a section from Rosemergy to Sennen Cove.

As we were there for two full days, we decided to split the walk into two, starting both times from the cottage. The Saturday we turned right, the weather a little dank and miserable, which always muddies your outlook on the walk. It was mainly uphill with poor views of the wild coastline as the wind forced the waves ever higher up the cliff face.

This trip, however, was a first for two reasons. We were walking without Andrew and Caroline and we would have to use public transport, not something either of us had done in many years. So as we made our way back along the road a couple of kilometres to a village called Trevowhan and the bus stop, the bus appeared. Great you might think, except we were still a distance from the aforementioned stop, there wouldn’t be another bus for two hours and the cherry on the top of the cake… it is now pouring down with rain! So the optimist that I am, I stuck out my arm, even though we weren’t yet at the bus stop, hoping that being actually at a bus stop wouldn’t be overly important at this time of year, on a wet Saturday afternoon. As I put my arm out and looked the bus driver in the eye, he totally and utterly ignored me. Since my retirement my patience has improved considerably and, I’ll be honest I shrugged it off and thought I’ll walk/run back to the Count House, pick up the car and fetch Carolynn. Low and behold though, all the bus driver was doing was finding a convenient place to stop and 100 metres down the road, he stopped and waited for us to board! I thanked him and he smiled… I couldn’t ask for anymore.

On Sunday we turned left, the sea once again on our right and the weather, although still windy, was missing those grey low depressing clouds. Today we appreciated those inlets and the ups, downs, ins and outs that go with them. We reached Cape Cornwall, only one of two capes in the UK, the other being Cape Wrath in Scotland. It is the meeting of two waters, the Atlantic Ocean and the Irish Sea. It was thought to be the most westerly point in Cornwall before OS realised that that was in fact Land’s End.

The final section of the walk was along the bottom of the cliffs until we reached Whitesand Bay and we walked on the beach into Sennen Cove and our destination. We were there an hour before the bus was due to leave, so like many of the visitors we stood waiting, entranced by the breaking waves on the rocks and harbour walls. A mesmerising end to the day.

This was the end of our catch up, two glorious days in a cottage on the edge of civilisation with the sound of the sea crashing against the slowly receding cliffs, whilst we were cosy in our cocoon, safe and warm, both curled up on the settee by the log fire… bliss.

We set off down the M5 knowing that we’d only be traveling down this road another couple of times. For the last two or three trips we’ll be taking another route to the south-west coast as we move closer to the end. They say familiarity breeds contempt. It’s a road that has led me to some of the most enjoyable days I’ve spent with Carolynn, Andrew and Caroline. So, although the M5 is long and sometimes torturous, it has taken me to a part of the UK that has given me many hours of pleasure with excellent company. It’ll be with a little sadness that I will be saying goodbye to this road that leads to one place only.

The title says it all… we’re getting close, the end is nearly in sight. The thought throws up mixed emotions. What an achievement, but with a tinge of sadness knowing that we probably won’t return to see the quaint fishing villages, and the wondrous, wild Atlantic coast, for many years. Before I start reminiscing, we need to finish and the first day brought a bitter blow. Carolynn had been suffering from a wheezy cough for a couple of weeks and this caused some serious breathing problems within the first few hundred metres. I hadn’t seen her struggling like this since we lived in Grimsby, some thirty odd years ago. Asthma can be extremely debilitating and proved to be so on this trip. It’s not something that either of us have taken into consideration for years and came as a bit of a shock. Carolynn struggled through the first short day but didn’t risk causing any more breathing problems and took no further part on this section of the walk. In the three years we’ve been going down to walk the South West Coast Path, we’ve had very little in the way of injuries. Andrew has suffered the odd blister, I had a problem with plantar fasciitis, Caroline has been injury free and so had Carolynn up to this point. Carolynn and I will return to complete the small section that she missed at a later date, hopefully. I know Carolynn won’t worry if she doesn’t return to complete this section, as she’s always said that it’s a team effort and most of all it’s about the enjoyment and company.

This section of the Coast Path meanders its way through urban areas, but surprises us with some secluded bays and headlands. I have to say it’s not the most interesting section of the walk, but like many urban areas, it has its own sense of beauty and we all see that in our own way. Torquay soon becomes a footnote and the path becomes the rollercoaster ride that we have come to expect, maybe just a little gentler, and we finish the day at a small insignificant car park glad that a day where Carolynn struggled so, was over.

Today we’re walking without Carolynn. It was Carolynn that first hinted at wanting to walk the South West Coast Path just over three years ago whilst we were taking a busman’s break in Devon and I find the next three days a little emptier without her company. Today’s route is easy walking, playing hide and seek with the coastal railway. The railway is still being repaired after the storms of the previous year and this means a couple of small diversions as we amble our way along the sea wall to Dawlish and its famous black swans.

Our day finishes at the ferry across the river Exe, a ferry that doesn’t run in the winter months, so even though we can see our AirBnb just a couple of hundred metres away, we have a long drive up through Exeter and then down the other side of the river Exe to Exmouth and our abode for the weekend. The walk was probably the least interesting of the SWCP so far, walking by a busy railway, which most of the time obscured any view there might be of Exmouth. Not a section I could savour and I believe a section best forgotten!

Kate and Merlot joined us today, always great to have them along. The day started as we finished the previous day, walking along the sea walls, but this time the other side of the Exe Estuary. The path then rises and steeply descends into Budleigh Salterton and its beautiful pebbled sea front and even more importantly, its more beautiful café! Budleigh is a wonderful village: not as picturesque as many of the Cornish and Devon villages and it doesn’t have a golden sandy beach meaning the tourists are not so numerous and therefore, it is left to the locals and those of us that wander through on the Coastal Path to admire the multi-coloured pebbled beach and red sandstone cliffs and sea stacks.

From Budleigh the path reverts back to type i.e. taking us a couple of kilometres inland only to bring us back just metres from where we turned inland, some excuse of there being a river in the way, but more importantly the path once again became the rolling ups and downs we’d come to love! Our last down was into Sidmouth and a well-earned coffee and taxi ride back to the AirBnb, Carolynn being the driver. Not sure whether you’ve noticed but we always used to finish with a pint and cream scone… it must be age as even Andrew now seems to prefer a pint of orange and maybe a cream scone.

The path today definitely returned to type with its many steep, stepped descents and ascents. I don’t know whether the steps make the constant ups and downs easier or not, but they are often irregular in width and height, which means that you struggle to get a rhythm going and the lactic acid in your thighs soon begins to burn. I was going to say that this section of the walk was like many others, rolling coastline with hidden bays and pebbled beaches, but that makes it sound as if familiarity has bred contempt and that’s not true. I still get great enjoyment from this landscape that the sea over the centuries has moulded into such wonderful headlands and coves. It’s just hard to find different ways of expressing its beauty. Maybe I’m just a little melancholy and out of sorts as my constant companion is not there to share it with me!

Lutterworth to London, a simple trip down the M1. Simple in that there were the normal 23 miles of road works; you know, the conversion of safe roads with hard shoulders to dangerous ‘Smart Motorways’ where breaking down becomes a life and death lottery! That aside the journey to the end or beginning, however you look at it, of the M1 was uneventful and took the expected one and a half hours to complete. The second half, actually not technically ‘half’ more like 10%, of the journey i.e. the last eight miles, was a trial of one’s patience and took a further hour and a half! After a night of celebration, with Syston Service Station winning the ‘Lubes’ category at The Forecourt Trader of the Year Awards, we exited out of London at 7am and made our way to the end of our first day’s walk. The area south-west of London is not one I know well and imagine my surprise when we crested a small hill on the A303 and there in front of me was Stonehenge! I’m going to show my ignorance and say I was unsure of exactly where it was located in the south! It’s one of those World Heritage sites that I’ve always meant to go and see, but never got around to it. As the exit from London was nowhere near as painful as our entrance the day before, we decided to stop. Like most women would say, ‘It was smaller than I was expecting’, but still very impressive!

We arrived at Blackpool Sands, our end point for the day, at a similar time to Andrew and Caroline: unusual! From Start Point Head we descended gently to Slapton Sands and the memorial for Exercise Tiger. A bit of a cock up as far as exercises go, it’s rumoured that up to 450 men died in a ‘friendly fire’ incident, due to poor communication and the use of live ammunition on a training exercise! The following day a convoy carrying light vehicles and engineers was spotted by nine German E boats and was attacked. This caused another estimated 248 deaths; again, lack of communication, training and faulty equipment were the main causes of the high number of deaths.

It was not far from this point that I received a phone call from the Airbnb host… it appears that he had us booked in from the Saturday night and not Friday, his error. By this time it was four in the afternoon and we were some distance from anywhere where we could have arranged a night in a hotel. However, it all ended well as the Airbnb host organised and paid for a night in a hotel in Torquay. Acceptable, we all make mistakes and he did his best to make it right for us.

The following day was a long day for us, 20km, and the beginning started with road walking which changed after three or four kilometres and once again we were walking on the sea cliffs as we approached Dartmouth Castle and a coffee stop. Over the three years or so that we’ve been walking the South West Coast Path, coffee stops seem to become more frequent and openly hoped for. Getting soft, probably… a latte and a cake do go down rather well mid-morning – as well as a pint and a cream tea at the end!

After taking the ferry across the River Dart, the walk was spent in and out of small secluded coves, very picturesque. The downside to picturesque is ‘in and out’ also means ‘up and down’! And therefore a late finish for us, after 17:30… unheard of!

The following day’s walk started with a pleasant walk past Berry Head Fort, which is home to one of the biggest guillemot colonies on the south coast; the fort was built to protect the Torbay Naval Anchorage. I alone took the detour into the fort and lighthouse and where were my compatriots when I eventually caught them up… in a coffee shop and we’d only been walking about an hour! Today was as short a day as yesterday was long. Time didn’t matter and we dawdled along the path, eventually eating lunch at the boating lake where the car was parked.

The final day’s walk through Paignton and Torquay was surprisingly refreshing as we walked mainly along promenades and the weather gave the English Riviera the soft light and glow normally only associated with its French counterpart.

However, the last few kilometres were through woods, with glimpses of golden beaches below and headlands yet to come. We departed for home in the knowledge that Poole is within our grasp and I think that the three or four trips left will be ones with mixed feelings as the SWCP comes to its conclusion.

The most southerly point in the UK. Both the physical and true psychological turning point in our walk around Somerset, Dorset, Devon and Cornwall (I did describe Land’s End as the psychological turning point as the name implies that’s what it should be, but nature, as always has other ideas). We no longer look out over the vast, wild Atlantic Ocean towards North America but instead, we’re looking over the calmer waters of the mouth of the English Channel. The vertical granite cliffs and destructive crashing waves give way to large deep-water inlets that meander slowly inland and undulating grassy meadows that roll gently into the sea. The scenery is so sudden in its change and different in its beauty you have to look back over your shoulder to remind yourself of the remote and wild coastline that has been ours for the last 18 months.

We’re here for a week, which in itself is unusual. Andrew, Caroline and Lottie finished the section from Gunwalloe to Mullion Cove, which Carolynn and I did last July, so that’s where we caught up with them: Mullion Cove, the place of my childhood holidays. The caravan site is still there, although rather than being static caravans it’s now log cabins. The harbour area still looks the same… but there is something different about it! As adults, do we have a rose-tinted view of our childhood holidays, as it never rained and the sun always shone in every sense?

It had been three months since we’d been together on the SWCP and it had seemed strange to be walking the path without them in September, but to have the full team back together made me realise what good companions and walking partners they are. The first day saw us walk what appears to be the last section of the Wild Atlantic Coast; we turned at the Lizard to a softening of the scenery that was both unexpected and welcome. The sheer cliffs and the crashing waves were replaced by long inlets, estuaries and salt marshes. A welcome change, as the continuous ascent and descent of the North Cornwall coastal inlets appear to be history, replaced by long detours inland or where possible ferry rides across the inlets and estuaries.

Cadgwith, the endpoint of our first day’s walk is a working harbour. The small harbour was bustling as the local trawlers were beached and emptied of their day’s catch. And once again we managed to finish as all walks should, with a pint and food full of calories… lovely.

The following day was a day where Nature and I didn’t see eye to eye! At 56 years old I have only ever been stung by a wasp once. This day started by doubling that total. There are a number of upsides to nearly being bald, but it appears one of the downsides is that on brushing my follicly challenged head against a Fuchsia a wasp taking its last nectar of the season took exception to my walking by and, you guessed it, stung me! I wasn’t amused! Seagulls aren’t my favourite birds. I suppose they, like any other animal they will always go for the easy option. I found out when I lost an ice cream to one that swooped in from behind and took ALL the ice cream from the top of the cone! My understanding is that what goes in must come out…and while I was eating my lunch, today…well do I need to say anymore! The question I know you’re all dying to ask does ammonia ease wasp sting…NO.

Enough of my misfortunes, back to the walk. It was a day of more leisurely walking: although there were still many valleys, they were less steep and there was even less descent and ascent between each high point. Lunch was in the warmth and shelter of Coverack harbour and the afternoon walk was an amble to Porthoustock, a village blighted by a disused quarry. It had very little to redeem itself: a rather grey industrial village out of place and time. There are along the path many industrial sites, the old tin mines, working fishing harbours and tourist traps, but all of these industries fit in, both in time and place. The Quarry at Porthoustock though is a blot on the landscape, ready and waiting to be resurrected as and when profit dictates.

The day finished here with neither a refreshing drink nor a cream tea!

On the following day, we were joined by Kate and Merlot, her black Labrador. I think I’ve mentioned before, Kate is a glass half full girl, full of life and seems to bring an air of joy, which is so very infectious, so it’s always a pleasure to have her join us.

Today was when we reached the halfway point. Andrew, the intellectual one amongst us, said that it was around Porthoustock. Photographs were taken and we slapped each other on the back with congratulations and on we walked, through to Porthallow, Nare Point and the observation point. It was here that we were told that the actual halfway point was Porthallow… the observation officer said, “Did you not see the 10 foot high obelisk declaring that you have reached the halfway point of the South West Coast Path?” Well, it appears that all five of us missed it. Were we too busy talking or concentrating on navigating the hard to follow path? Actually, at least two of our group read the reverse side of the obelisk, which at no point mentioned that this was the halfway point… me, I just walked straight past it, concentrating on navigation, making sure that we didn’t get lost as the path markers were now becoming, quite frankly, very scarce! (Just a pathetic excuse… as the path markers are many and very easy to follow.) So we missed the halfway point; what difference did it make? It seems that it makes a big difference. 315 miles is a gigantic milestone, a distance none of us has ever walked before, so we decided to call on our way back for a proper photoshoot.

Today we also took our first ferry crossing whilst on the SWCP. It wasn’t the most luxurious of ferries. In fact, it wasn’t much bigger than a rowing boat and with five adults, two dogs and the Tillerman it was cosy if not a little precarious! This crossing across Gillan Creek did, however, save us 2.5 km and it was, of course, my expert timing and knowledge of the tides that saved us from that feet-aching extra 2.5 km! Ferries it seems, though, are a bit like buses, they all come at once and within another hour we were summoning another ferry to cross the Helford River. This crossing was essential as the detour if the ferry was missed was another full day’s walk!

After the Helford crossing, it’s just a pleasant stroll from one small cove to another as we head to Mawnan and the church we’ve been so close to, but separated from, by the Helford River for the last couple of hours. Our celebration drink was, I think, well deserved. A milestone for us all and a moment to be proud of. We’ve become quite an efficient group over the last couple of years. The morning routine has a military precision the army would envy and the evenings are without any sort of precision as we discuss where to eat; agreement, though, is always reached.

We’re here for a week on this trip rather than the usual four days, so instead of heading home, the following day we head for Falmouth. The day is a day of gentle walking through fields and over wooded clifftop paths until we hit the road that leads us to the imposing Pendennis Castle where just across the estuary lies St Anthony Head, our final destination. This is the part of the walk that I don’t enjoy, walking the streets of towns like Falmouth. They have their own sense of beauty but not for me. The industrial heart of these towns I find no beauty in, they are so different from the quaint coves and fishing harbours of the villages that are so common along the SWCP. However, they can’t be avoided and from here we have to take two ferries, one to St Mawes and cross the Percival River to Place House.

We finish the day at St Anthony’s Head and make our way back to Place House and the ferry back to St Mawes. At Place House, we stumbled across Ben Fogle’s family and two very lively black labradors as they headed back on the ferry to St Mawes. We backtracked to Falmouth and our car and as usual a well-deserved pint or two!

The final day was as yesterday a walk of gentle, rolling hills to Portscatho and the famous Hidden Hut: a cafe hidden in a cove just outside of Portscatho that serves alfresco evening meals three or four times a month until the end of October as well as every lunchtime. As we passed early afternoon it was packed full of trendy couples gossiping away in the late October sunshine. I have to admire the owners of this wooden hut who have managed to persuade people that sitting and eating alfresco style is both enjoyable and worth paying over the odds for, even with the unpredictable British weather, pesky flies and the 100m walk required to reach it (that alone is normally enough to put ‘Joe Public’ off)… but it’s extremely popular and very difficult to get a ticket for one of the ‘Feasts Nights’. Hey ho, maybe it’s me being a little cynical. Cynical or not, it’s very much a loved and sought-after place to eat.

The finish is Pendower Beach and for our final pint, we head back to Portscatho, before that long journey home. Our split is not the usual one, as Caroline and Kate head out for an unplanned (unprepared) week, whilst Andrew, Lottie and ourselves head off home.

Gez, a friend from my school days, put a post on Facebook that read ‘obsessed is just a word the lazy use to describe dedicated’. Well, in that case, I’ve become dedicated to the South West Coast Path. In October we’ll be 18 months in and the halfway mark will have been reached. However, this trip is to fill in a gaping omission from last November (2017). Due to plantar fasciitis (heel pain to you and me) and my Mother being in hospital, I missed the whole section out and Carolynn missed just a couple of days, while Andrew, Caroline and Lottie completed it.

So obsessed, sorry I mean dedicated, as Carolynn and I are, we decided to come down this week and tick it off. Carolynn has said a number of times that it’s a team effort, but there’s part of me that shouts out, ‘No, you have to do it all.’ It was like summiting Quaqua Aoife in Greenland: I wanted us all to summit together as a team even though the guides insisted that we would all be credited with the first ascent even if we didn’t all arrive at the same time. In the end, the guides agreed I was right, as usual, and we summited together as one.

The section concerned is from Bude to Port Isaac. Not a long section, about 48km, but still not to be missed and as I found out during my three days of walking, one of the hardest sections we’ve completed.  Andrew has been known to mention on a few occasions that the path seems to regularly ascend 200 odd metres only to descend back to sea level once the highest point is reached.

The path tends not to do this with humans in mind, in fact, even a mountain goat would probably find this section challenging! The SWCP website writes that you should persevere as the views are spectacular! And so they are if you have either the inclination or energy to look up after doubling over and gasping for oxygen as you reach the crest and as you fall on all fours, to catch your breath, your eyes look in horror at yet another vertical descent and then they roll upwards towards what appears to be an even higher, steeper ascent across the valley!

Enough moaning. Carolynn and I arrived at Bude and walked the fairly easy section to Millook Cove, passing through Widemouth Bay and gently ascending Penhalt Cliff. The only clue about what was to come was the final steep descent into Millook Cove, which is just a scattering of buildings hidden away on a beautiful V-shaped valley.

The following day was just for me to complete, Carolynn had walked this section nearly a year earlier. I did it in reverse, thinking that the further I can get the less I would have to do the following day, whilst walking with Carolynn. So I set out from Port Isaac heading ‘North’ with the sea on my ‘Left’; something was wrong, it just didn’t feel right. As long as the sea was always on our right we knew we were heading in the right direction, so today everything was the wrong way round! I was trying to figure out why it felt so wrong to walk the SWCP in a clockwise direction. There are no books that describe the walk from Poole to Minehead, they all describe it anti-clockwise and the designated starting point always seems to be Minehead! But why? ‘Cos it doesn’t feel right?

The day started with me nearly stepping on this little fella.

This is the only wild snake I’ve ever come across in the UK… glad I saw him before I trod on him.

There are some spectacular rewards for what was one of the most strenuous sections of the SWCP that I’ve walked, climbing up from sea level taking in the views and then climbing back down to sea level again on the other side time and time again. Eventually Tintagel Head and King Arthur’s birthplace came into sight. The romance of King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, Guinevere and the Round Table seemed to be infused in this magical spot. The downside though, full of bloody tourists! My thought was to have lunch here. I decided that King Arthur would understand my reluctance to mingle with all these people, so instead I moved on to a quieter spot 1/2 hour further on. It’s strange how in just a few hundred metres you can lose the crowds!!! Shoes off, socks off and relax in the early Autumn sunshine, with views of the deep turquoise sea pounding the cliffs.

I made Boscastle in good time and met up with Carolynn and Corinne for a coffee and then on to Newton Farm and the day’s end. Heavy squally showers now peppered the coast drenching me on this last section of the day. If there’s going to be any rain, then the end of the day is the best time for it.

Carolynn and I joined forces again on Monday for the last catch-up day from Millook to Newton Farm. Again this was a day of ascent and descent. Man-made paths of unevenly spaced steps, designed to use and abuse every muscle in your leg. My training was kicking in, those ‘slow twitch’ muscles, trained to keep my legs moving, did just that and those ‘fast twitch’ muscles, weren’t required. Apparently a good sign!

A day ahead of time, Carolynn and I finished the ‘catch up’. On the Tuesday we arranged to meet up with Roy at Instow to relax and check that the ‘tide was coming in’. It seemed a while since we’d been on this section of the SWCP, in fact, just over a year ago. In that year, as I’ve mentioned before, there have been many changes. I’ve retired, well almost! Carolynn has had to get used to me being at home more; apparently, I’ve caused her a considerable amount of disruption, knocking any routine she had out the window! Andrew and Caroline have bought a new house in the Cotswolds and Andrew was offered and accepted a redundancy package. Unlike me though, he doesn’t feel inclined to retire… he might change his mind after a few months with the only real pressure being what time do I get up in the morning? It’s certainly been the best decision I’ve made in recent years.

This time we neither finished with a cream tea nor a pint. Instead, we finished with a quiet drink with an old friend as we contemplated the incoming tide on a beautiful sunny day, overlooking Instow Bay!

This will be the last trip down to the SWCP before the summer season starts and the beaches and paths become unbearably crowded with pesky tourists. The main reason, tough, is that we can’t find accommodation for just four nights, it’s seven nights or nothing. Something to do with those tourists, again; apparently, they’re more profitable than we seasoned travellers who go five or six times a year.

The weather in the UK, this year, is comparable with the summer of ’76, except for the south-west! The forecast is for it to be cooler with the possibility of rain. The rest of the UK however, wall to wall sunshine! The Friday afternoon walk turned out to be a hot one though. We started at the Minack Theatre and walked down to the beautiful beach of Porthcurno and along the cliff tops to Lamorna, which is one of those many hidden Cornish gems.

The Sunday’s walk was in complete contrast. We walked along the cliff top and descended into Mousehole and the start of a 10 km section of road walking, not a favourite of mine. Although it did make for easier walking than I had anticipated and we reached Marazion, the finish of our day, by 2pm.

The village of Mousehole is said to be one of the prettiest villages in the country, but there are so many hidden gems along the path that to give Mousehole that title isn’t really justified. All the same, it didn’t disappoint as we sat looking over the harbour with a coffee and ice cream.

I’m quite a fan of art deco and Penzance has its fair share, with one of the most wonderful outdoor grade II listed Jubilee swimming pools and in the heat, it was very tempting to throw caution to the wind, strip off and dive in as naked as a jaybird! That might have meant a trip to the local constabulary. The other issue was there was no water in it!

From Penzance’s Promenade, Saint Michael’s Mount dominates the view and it slowly loomed larger as we drew closer. We timed our entrance into Marazion perfectly. The tide was out and the causeway open and once I had fed the seagulls their daily dose of ice cream (unintentionally) we made our way across to the Mount. Although this day didn’t end with a refreshing pint, it did end with a lovely Cornish cream tea, zero calorie version, obviously!!!

The next day was another rather leisurely walk with views that have now become the norm. All of us have become rather blasé about the beautiful scenery that this section of the coast affords.

Lutterworth is not the most blessed area in the country for mouth dropping scenery, unless you’ve ever fantasised about being in the best area in the country for motorway links! Work dictated, to a certain degree, where I live and I look at this section of the SWCP with a little jealousy, with its tempting golden sandy beaches and evidence of its tin-mining past, a manmade landscape that seems to blend seamlessly, unlike Lutterworth and its ever-growing warehouses and road links..

One thing I forgot to mention was that Andrew suffered from blisters on the balls of both feet, so he bowed out of today’s walk, but he somehow managed to join us for a pint as the unrelenting heat drained our energy, and his, apparently!

That evening we went to see a play at the Minack Theatre. I have to say I was really looking forward to this. I’ve seen it on TV programmes, read about it and I’ll be honest I wasn’t disappointed. There is no comparison that I’m aware of. Can you feel a ‘but’ coming on? Well, the theatre was more than I could have hoped for, however, the best bit about the performance were the dolphins that put on a spectacular display during the interval, pure coincidence. The play was The Cherry Orchard by Anton Chekhov, two and half hours of absolute drivel… I believe, from what I’m told, that Coronation Street is more exciting!

The final day was to Mullion Cove, a place where I spent many family holidays in my younger days. We used to travel down to Cornwall overnight to miss the traffic as the M5 didn’t exist in those days. We followed the old Fosse Way to Exeter and then onto Mullion Cove. It took ten hours and what excited child ever sleeps when they’re going on holiday! It must have been a nightmare for Mum and Dad! So this next section of the path held some fond memories of my parents’ friends and their children, who I’m no longer in contact with, but even to this day, I can picture each and everyone. Anyway, we started out from Porthleven only to be diverted from the main path because of a landslide from a previous storm. We followed the diversion not knowing exactly where it would take us or how far. I don’t mind a diversion that is well signposted, which this was, but it’s also handy when you’re walking to know the extra distance that will have to be covered. This turned out to be a 4km diversion, not far I know, but when it adds over a third to the distance planned for the whole day then it’s quite significant!

Andrew had a conference call booked with the HR Department at 3pm and the diversion meant that it would be touch and go whether we’d finish in time for the call. So Andrew, Caroline and Lottie left us at Gunwalloe, only halfway to Mullion Cove.

Carolynn and I continued walking into my past. After a brief lunch stop at Church Cove we continued on to Polurrian Cove, where I spent most of the days of my childhood holidays, belly boarding and playing on the cliffs.

I would always get sunburnt, peel and then go brown. I can still remember the many sleepless nights with my shoulders and back on fire. Our next and final stop was Mullion Cove, now owned by the National Trust. It’s changed very little from my childhood recollections. As we crested the last cliff before descending to the Cove itself the cloud moved in and after a forecast of rain for most days that never occurred the heavens opened, not something that I ever recall from those past holidays so many years ago.

The last thing we did, of course, before driving home was treat ourselves to one of those small calorie free Cornish Cream Teas. I’m still not convinced which is worse for you a cream tea or a couple of pints…

The psychological halfway point… Land’s End. Isn’t that the halfway point of the SWCP? It’s the most southerly point and from here we have to turn eastwards and onto the southern coast. Therefore it must be halfway. In my simple mind that’s all that matters. It’s a bit like magnetic north, a ‘lie’. Magnetic north doesn’t point to true north or even grid north. If you followed magnetic north from Land’s End you’d end up miles from the North Pole. But I’ve convinced myself that it is the halfway point of the SWCP and as my partner at work would have said, ‘If I agreed with you, we’d both be wrong!’ If you hadn’t already gathered, we walk past Land’s End on this section of our walk. It might not be halfway but it is a turning point, psychologically and physically. From that point on we stop heading in a south-westerly direction and slowly turn to a north-easterly one… unfortunately, though it isn’t halfway, actually it’s only just over a third.

Carolynn and I are on our way back down to Cornwall, to St Ives, our finishing point last time. The first day’s walk is just around the Hayle estuary and a gentle walk through St Ives, a stark contrast to the more rugged sections we’ve completed so far. The rest of the country is suffering high, cold winds and torrential rain… beautiful and sunny here in Cornwall. The wind is, maybe, a little on the chilly side, but near perfect walking weather.

One thing that I’ve never mentioned in all the blogs on the SWCP is parking. Why would I? It’s not a very interesting topic, there are no epic tales to tell about parking a vehicle. It’s just something you have to do. We, unfortunately, have two vehicles to park each day, one at the end of the walk and one at the beginning. Not exactly carbon neutral, but saves using public transport. Let’s face it, public transport generally doesn’t go where you want it to at the times you want it to go. I digress. When starting our ‘Endeavour South West Coast Path’ (a steal from Ed Visteur’s ‘Endeavour 8,000’, the project name Ed gave to conquering all 14 8,000 metre peaks – technically the SWCP is not as difficult, but is for us just as challenging), we did not factor in the cost of car parking! Why would you, surely an insignificant expense? Hell no, it most certainly is a significant expense. There appear to be very few ‘free’ car parks along the trail! You’d have thought that after nine or so trips we’d carry the requisite change, well, you’d have thought wrong. We’re constantly scratching around for pound coins or looking for machines that take credit/debit cards. Andrew and I must have a number of apps on our phones for parking in different areas. We’ve also got a little bit cunning. You can extend your car parking remotely with an app. So we go for the shortest time that the day’s walk should take and then extend as required! Not bad for two old codgers like us, or are we just getting tight fisted in our old age? It does, however, have one flaw… WiFi or a phone signal are required, not overly reliable whilst on the path! The cost of parking has come as a bit of a shock. Beer, food, fuel and accommodation is as expected… but parking has nearly broken the bank (I can hear Stephen sighing and saying ‘yeah right’).

Day Twenty-Four was a nice leisurely walk around the Hayle Estuary on to St Ives Head. It broke in the mind and body ready for the next three days, or so I thought!

Anyway, the following day was over some of the most beautiful countryside so far on the walk. For me, it was one of the best day’s walking along the trail. Take note of the expression ‘for me’. None of the others agreed. Something about constantly climbing over rocks and just a few Nepali Flats!

The guide did say that it was one of the hardest days to date. I thought it can’t be worse than the constant ups and downs of the Devon section, but apparently it was! The walk was through beautiful and rugged lonely coves, as it ebbed and flowed around the sheer cliffs of the Cornish coastline, giving the feeling of remoteness not yet experienced along the trail. Bliss or so I thought.

This day really took it out of Carolynn, so she decided to sit out the third day of this trip, which followed along the ‘Tin Coast’ of Cornwall. Bad days happen to us all, hopefully Carolynn and I will return to complete this missing section.

Unlike the rest of the country, which was having torrential rain, we were blessed with sunshine and lovely temperatures and unlike yesterday the walking was easy with little height gain or loss, just a gradual descent to the coast and the beautiful Sennen Cove.

We walked along the ‘Tin Coast’ and the ghosts of the hard-pressed miners haunted the many derelict pumping stations dotted along the precarious cliff edges. We passed Cape Cornwall, once thought to be the most westerly point, where the Atlantic current splits south towards the English Channel and north towards the Irish Sea.

The day finished where all good walks should finish… at the pub with a cup of coffee and our chauffeur, Carolynn, arriving to take us back to the cottage and a well-earned cream tea… oh yes!

The final day we were all back together once again, with Lottie corralling us, trying to keep us all together. Today we hit our ‘psychological’ halfway point, Land’s End. It feels that at last we’ve turned a corner. Land’s End is exactly how you would expect it to be… full of tourists that are ripped off by a greedy landowner who has made the place a circus, instead of the beautiful remote edge of the British Isles that it is. It’s a shame that the National Trust aren’t the custodians. If you walk just a couple of hundred metres from the hotel and junk shops, you can appreciate the beauty and rugged coastline that is mainly untouched.

The rest of the day was a steady walk along the cliff top to Porthcurno and the famous Minack Open Air Theatre. Then a quick drink, say our goodbyes and the long drive home, to return again in early July. Approximately 586km to go!

Looking back to Botallack Head and the many Beam Engine Buildings

Carolynn and I are sitting, once again, at Gloucester Services on the M5 after another trip walking the South West Coast Path. Once again my thoughts are of our return in April.

A friend of mine, Stephen McLoughlin, is walking one of the many routes on the Camino de Santiago. This is his 5th trip to Spain and Portugal; it’s a trip, I know, that means a great deal to him. A trip, I assume, that tests his faith and his liver! Seriously though, I’ve seen his tears of joy on entering the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. He has walked thousands of kilometres over the last few years completing the pilgrimage he loves so much. Ours, unlike Stephen’s, is not a pilgrimage of faith or pain but one to savour in a different way. To enjoy what we see, what we feel and what we hear.

I poured over the map looking at the Gannel Estuary just south of Newquay and it occurred to me that the path went over a boardwalk that was not the full width of the estuary and that the mean high-water mark completely covered it at high tide. To not cross the boardwalk would mean a diversion of at least 4km and could be as much as 5km! I have to say I wasn’t overly keen on the consequence of not being able to cross the boardwalk because of the tide. This is the first time that the tide has dictated where and when we walk. Luckily the boardwalk is usable two or three hours either side of low tide and we were due to be there approximately two and a half hours after the tide would start its unstoppable march. The day went to plan!

The walking as we’ve travelled further south has got easier. The cliffs are no longer hundreds of metres high, instead, they are tens of metres and the Nepali flat is becoming flat or flatter, anyway. I don’t mind the steep valleys and the hidden coves, they are what the walk is. I know that my compatriots are happy at this turn of events, me, I don’t mind if those hidden valleys and coves, with their steep unrelenting paths, return.

The first day’s walk was straightforward and enjoyable. We rambled along catching up and chewing over the important issues of our time, such as Brexit, USA and North Korea, Russian spy poisoning, but most importantly whether we needed to buy Lottie a coat for the cold days forecast ahead.

I don’t normally mention where we stay as the accommodation is usually mundane AirBnb cottages, generally the cheapest we can find. This time we stayed in a holiday let called Surfsounds. A small apartment right on the beach. I have to say it was very aptly named. Although the sound of the surf was very relaxing, I think a Spring tide might worry me slightly.

The next day seems to blend into many of the other days along the walk. The frightening thing is, have I just come to accept that the path will always take us through natural coastal beauty, which is unparalleled anywhere? I now look back on that second day and it was an average overcast day that threw up some of the most wonderful soft light, which took the hard edges off the coastline and the relentless pounding of the Atlantic waves.

We passed the now derelict Penhale Camp. A military camp abandoned by the MOD in 2010: old abandoned Nissen huts, with ragged half-open curtains flapping through the broken windows, creating eerie shadows that dance in the darkness, with secrets that we’ll never know. From there we walked along the beautiful Perran Beach to Perranporth and a well-deserved coffee. The café proprietor was full of doom and gloom about the weather. He predicted that at least two feet of snow would fall overnight! Well, he was a Derby County supporter: that would explain his downbeat mood.

The afternoon walk was leisurely, on paths lined with gorse bushes and a gentle rise up to St Agnes Head and the end of the day’s walk. It’s on this stretch that we first come across what Cornwall is so famous for: the first ruins of the old tin mines. They blend in perfectly with their surroundings: an industrial heritage that the landscape has grown around in sympathy with the rose-tinted view that we have of those times. An image that is romanticised by programmes such as Poldark. The reality can be seen in the slag heaps that still litter the area, a reminder of the harsh, cramped conditions that the miners worked in.

The end of the walk did not end with a deserved drink, but instead three full scoops of Cornish ice cream… bliss. It appeared that Cornwall was slowly waking up as the cafés, ice-cream parlours and restaurants opened their doors for the beginning of the season.

Day Twenty-Two started with a catastrophe; Lottie was limping. We checked the offending paw and there appeared to be no injury and she was as keen as normal to come out with us. A decision had to be made. Do we split up and leave Lottie in the apartment, or see how she fared if she came with us? The first option won the day, for the main reason that we would be walking past the apartment in a couple of hours’ time and we could check on her. So we set off, just the four of us. It’s strange walking without Lottie, she rounds us up when we start to spread out and keeps us together, running continually between us. She’s a constant source of amusement and in a way, a comfort, scouting ahead, sniffing the path, looking for… who knows! All I have to say is that she was missed that day.

That mini beast from the east was beginning to bite, a bitterly cold morning, with a chilling wind… maybe Lottie knew what she was about, after all! Again, a day of walking through Cornwall’s industrial heritage, both ancient and modern, both deadly in their own way: the tin mining industry, unregulated and mined only for profit and Nancekuke Common airfield, an outstation that manufactured the nerve agent Sarin, but which has now reverted to a remote radar station for the MOD.

The last section of the third day’s walk and the beginning of the fourth day was a gentle walk along the cliff tops. The only difference on the fourth day was the thin layer of snow that had fallen overnight, nothing like the ‘two feet’ predicted by the Derby County doom and gloom supporter! We then descended into St Ives Bay and spent the final section walking along the golden sands to our destination and just that little bit closer to our final goal.

It’s been exactly one year since Carolynn and I started the SWCP with Andrew, Caroline and Lottie and here we are back for the 6th time and around 250km further south than the same date a year ago. The last year has seen many changes for all of us. Andrew and Caroline moved out of their house in High Wycombe in February, the month we started the walk… and they are still homeless! Homeless in the sense of not owning their own home and they seem to have gone from elation through/to frustration to resignation. I hope that they have more joy this year. Carolynn, unfortunately, lost her Father in March and I retired in October (although I still have one site left… so 90% retirement). Philosophically, life moves on as do we, as we slowly make our way around the Cornish Coast.

Winter walking creates its own unique difficulties: the cold, freezing rain, snow, but most of all the biting wind. Every major outdoor clothing manufacturer advertises waterproof and windproof clothing! I’m not sure where or how these companies test these products, but it can’t be outdoors in real weather. Let’s firstly take to task those garments that claim to be waterproof. I’ve walked in challenging weather for over 49 years and the best waterproof garment I have had the good fortune to wear was an outfit the Sherpas gave me in the Himalaya, a plastic sheet with a hole just big enough for my face, basically a very cheap poncho! Otherwise every waterproof coat I’ve ever owned, no matter what the price, has left me either damp or wet. The excuse from any manufacturer will, of course, be that my body perspires faster than the garment can wick it away… it seems their claims are not quite up to the actuality of the fickle British weather and my body’s natural cooling system. The garment that has come closest to its claims is a coat I have owned for some years, made by Paramo, but still not perfect, though.

Secondly, there are the so-called windproof garments. It doesn’t seem to matter how many windproof layers I have on, the bitingly bitter wind that blows across our wilderness areas always seems to be able to find the slightest chink in the clothing’s armour. And eventually its tentacles will, at first unobtrusively, wrap themselves around me, then strike me down just after I stop for a rest. Again, the garment manufacturers will try to pass on the blame and counter my criticism with the comment ‘when you stop you should always put on another layer’! But how many of us stop and are loathe to take off our outer layer to put on another item of clothing when it’s cold, wet and windy! Outdoor clothing has definitely improved in the 49 years that I’ve been walking and climbing, but I do think that technical outdoor clothing these days should be able to make you feel as if you are sat by a wood/yak dung burning stove whilst it gives off that feeling of absolute contentment (toastie) and warmth! Or is it that I’m turning into a grumpy old man?

After a horrendous journey down to Rock, near Padstow, because the M5 was closed due to a fatal accident, we started later than planned. It was a gentle walk following the coast from New Polzeath to Rock, an afternoon’s walk that seduces you into a false sense of security as the following day was in no way a ‘walk in the park’!

If I had to describe in one word the next day, the word would be ‘Bloody Rain’. I know that’s two words, but I decided that the adjective due to the relentlessness of the ‘one word’ doesn’t count. As I’ve increased in age, I have found that walking in the rain is no longer agreeable to either my temperament or enjoyment. So I at the very least don’t start a walk in the rain. But we’re on a timetable, with the next couple of trips booked, so to miss a day creates a dilemma. This was evident after our last trip, where I didn’t do any of the walks, Carolynn did just a day and a half, but Andrew, Caroline and Lottie missed just one day of the five days of walking. As the next section’s accommodation had been booked, I thought that we would come back to this section at a later date. Andrew thought that we’d go back and do the day they missed. I have to be honest, it didn’t even cross my mind: typical man. I assumed we would carry on, whilst Andrew’s assumption was somewhat different! Anyway, the consensus in the end was to return to the previous section at a later date. That would also give us all time to explore what is one of the most beautiful sections of the Coastal Path around Tintagel.

Where was I before I wandered off, oh yes, Rain! After my initial grumpiness at starting in the rain, I realised that the rain isn’t the bad boy, it’s the wind. Rain like anything dropped from a height will obey the laws of gravity, that is it will fall vertically. The wind, though, has never heard of physics and Newton’s theory of gravity, consequently the rain, driven by the wind, defies the aforementioned law and never hits the ground, but travels on a horizontal plane, the consequence of which, is that it manages to penetrate all possible weaknesses in the waterproof/windproof garments: including the largest weakness, the hole in the garment left for your face!

All in all, in spite of the rain, it was a great day’s walk. I know all I’ve done is appear to moan. There is, though, a certain beauty as the cloud and rain that shrouds the landscape in a grey veil, only to be lifted suddenly as the wind whisks the greyness away, reveals the joining of land and sea.

The walk finished at Trevose Head Lighthouse, our accommodation for the weekend. A remote and wild place but comforting as the now gale force wind threw its full weight at the impenetrable cottages, while we relaxed listening contentedly to those tendrils, failing to reach us in our warm bunker.

One thing I forgot to mention was that we were joined by two temporary members, Kate a friend of Caroline’s and Merlot, her faithful black Labrador. Kate has a will to succeed, that belies her air of a ‘happy go lucky’ temperament. This ‘devil may care’ attitude is extremely infectious and lifted all our spirits.

Day Eighteen was different again, although the wind was still trying to prove its ability to wrap you up in its tendrils and suck the very breath from your lungs; it failed and very soon gave up. The sun, although not with complete enthusiasm, shone for much of the day. The wind subsided and the rain stayed in Spain! Today was what we’ve learned over the last year, a classic SWCP day; a type of day I’ve mentioned many times, known as ‘Nepali Flat’. It finished as all good walks should, at a bar with a well-deserved tipple. And it’s been a while since I’ve been able to say that. Kate and Merlot left us here to go and pick up her daughter who had just finished a practice for the Ten Tors endurance event and was feeling sorry for herself after a long, wet and windy night.

Day Nineteen was very short as Andrew had a flight to catch from Heathrow at 6pm! But we reached our destination of the Beacon Head Hotel in good time. Half of the 8km walk was through the party capital of the South-West, Newquay. It’s probably the largest settlement we’ve been through since the start in Minehead. Andrew, Caroline and Lottie shot off, knowing that we’d meet again in only a month’s time to get ever closer to Land’s End.

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We’re on our way down to Cornwall once more, three days later than anticipated. The delay is due to my Mother’s operation on her leg, nothing major. This means that Caroline, Lottie and Andrew have three extra days. So, they’re going to start and then we’ll carry on with them, well Carolynn will carry on… me, I’ve brought my bike down as my heel is still extremely painful. I’ve had a second steroid injection to try to ease the pain. I think the decision to climb Kilimanjaro and then walk four days of the SWCP ten days after the initial injection, was probably not the best one.  This time I’m going to rest it for three months and make sure it’s, hopefully, fully healed, as we’ll all be back in February for another stint and a week later, I have three days in the Cairngorms, which is training for the Mont Blanc climb in June.

So I’m going to spend the three days on my mountain bike! At some point, Carolynn will have to catch up on the three days that she has missed and I’ll have to catch up all six.

We’re staying at a cottage called ‘Overseas’ in Trebarwith Strand, which belongs to a friend of mine, Keith Carsley. The village appears not to have any permanent residents. All the properties are holiday lets, a little sad, but seems to be a sign of the times. One anomaly, the village has a thriving pub. How many villages in Britain have lost their local because it’s not economical? Here, though, the pub is thriving and open 365 days of the year!

As Andrew and Caroline didn’t have access to two vehicles, they haven’t been able to complete all the days, in fact, because the weather forecast for the day of our arrival was so diabolical, they haven’t done any walking before we drove down!

We’re on our way down to Cornwall once more, three days later than anticipated. The delay is due to my Mother’s operation on her leg, nothing major. This means that Caroline, Lottie and Andrew have three extra days. So, they’re going to start and then we’ll carry on with them, well Carolynn will carry on… me, I’ve brought my bike down as my heel is still extremely painful. I’ve had a second steroid injection to try to ease the pain. I think the decision to climb Kilimanjaro and then walk four days of the SWCP ten days after the initial injection, was probably not the best one.  This time I’m going to rest it for three months and make sure it’s, hopefully, fully healed, as we’ll all be back in February for another stint and a week later, I have three days in the Cairngorms, which is training for the Mont Blanc climb in June.

So I’m going to spend the three days on my mountain bike! At some point, Carolynn will have to catch up on the three days that she has missed and I’ll have to catch up all six.

We’re staying at a cottage called ‘Overseas’ in Trebarwith Strand, which belongs to a friend of mine, Keith Carsley. The village appears not to have any permanent residents. All the properties are holiday lets, a little sad, but seems to be a sign of the times. One anomaly, the village has a thriving pub. How many villages in Britain have lost their local because it’s not economical? Here, though, the pub is thriving and open 365 days of the year!

As Andrew and Caroline didn’t have access to two vehicles, they haven’t been able to complete all the days, in fact, because the weather forecast for the day of our arrival was so diabolical, they haven’t done any walking before we drove down!

I’m not going to make any note of the kilometres walked on this trip, as I didn’t walk any and the other three plus Lottie didn’t walk the full itinerary. One way or another we all have some catching up to do… me more than the others! I’m going to have to come back to this section sometime next year and catch up.

This section is a spectacular section of the SWCP, so no way am I going to miss it out. There is something that needs to go down in history here: Carolynn has now walked further than I have. I’m proud of her. She’s doing this because of my love of walking, but I’m confident that she too is beginning to understand some of the passion I have for these wilderness areas.

It is the other two women amongst us, Caroline and Lottie, (Lottie has probably already walked equivalent to the 1030km of the whole path) that have walked the furthest, putting us two men to shame. Are they the stronger sex? I’m open to any comments!

Back in February!

After eight years of hiding in Carolynn’s Facebook, I’ve eventually joined the masses. Why? Well, after retiring last month I thought maybe it’s time I came out of the closet and got rid of that charlatan, LinkedIn and only when my ‘Decree Absolute’ came through from LinkedIn did I go public, come out and tell the world I now have a Facebook page!

What’s all this rubbish got to do with walking the SWCP, I can hear you say? Well, the important word in the above paragraph was ‘retiring’. I now have that precious commodity ‘Time’. My body, or more precisely my feet, seem to have other ideas though. If you’ve read any of my blogs in the past, you’ll know that they are all ‘walking’ related. Therefore ‘feet’ are rather important. The one pastime that requires your feet to be in good shape is mountain walking and over the last year and a half, I have firstly suffered Plantar Fasciitis in my right foot and now in my left. It’s slightly annoying and extremely painful and has got considerably worse since returning from Kilimanjaro and on this fourth day the pain is starting to tell. But, hey, I’m a man, so I won’t complain… much!

Day Fifteen starts at that ignoramus tea shop as we make our way back to the path proper. The ascents and descents become less severe and the magnificent view of the many bluffs that lead to Bude spread before us.

It’s a beautiful day’s walk, with the wind blowing the sea spray over the tops of the low cliffs, making them look like they are shrouded in mist and the finish, just out of sight on the horizon. Down below the receding tide leaves an inviting path, which I decide to take. It’s a path that will leave no trace of my passing as nature will erase my footsteps in the sand! As I leave the other three, Lottie runs between us, unsure of why one of us has split from the main group and she desperately tries to herd us back together. Eventually the round trip becomes too long and she gives up, giving one last look of disapproval before darting off to walk with her mistress.

As Carolynn, Caroline, Andrew and Lottie walked along the cliff top, I walked alone, barefoot along this beautiful stretch of beach with nature’s abstract canvas of folded multi coloured layers of rock that time and sea have uncovered along the cliffs.

A sudden turn and the scenery changes as Bude with all its colourful beach huts and gaudy beachfront cafés comes into view and hits your senses full on. Here is where I expect to find my compatriots ready with a drink of the amber nectar… but I only find Andrew. All three of the girls are waiting at a café at the other end of the beach, about one km away, so Andrew and I take the car to meet them! In the meantime, Caroline, Lottie and Carolynn walked over to meet us! This was repeated twice more and all I’ll say is that it was at least an hour before I got that well deserved amber nectar! Why didn’t we use our mobile phones, well, a mixture of flat batteries and no signal… modern technology!

The end of our fourth trip and I really am now looking forward to these days spent with Carolynn and our good friends Andrew and Caroline. The next section of the walk will mean the end of the first year and just over 285km walked… so, just over another three years to go.

Day Twelve started as we expected with a steep climb out of the village of Buck’s Mill

Once the first steep uphill section is complete, the path contours along the Hobby Drive all the way to Clovelly. The walk is a peaceful wander through wooded, slightly undulating terrain and then the trail finishes at Clovelly, a beautiful traffic-free privately owned village and they charge accordingly… doesn’t seem to put off the tourists, who even at this time of year are here in their droves. We wander down the steep cobbled street to the harbour and settle for a cream tea at one of the many cafés. Touristy it might be, but it’s still a beautiful spot. Didn’t pay as we didn’t know that we had to and wouldn’t have out of principle! I know, I’m a grumpy old git!

Day Thirteen started with a dilemma. How do we get to the start of the walk without having to pay? Clovelly, being a private village is designed to relieve you of as much money as possible. We did admittedly park in the village car park free of charge yesterday, not realising that the idea was to pay when you entered the village through the shop. So there was a little guilt…  but not enough for us not to take the route that bypassed the entrance where payment would have been mandatory!

The day starts, as it finished yesterday, walking through wooded and bracken covered hills. Lottie was frustrated as Caroline wouldn’t let her off her lead to plunder the hundreds of pheasants that would suddenly fly from the undergrowth as we startled them, walking through their home.

Sneakily, the landscape had slowly changed from rolling hills and easy valley crossings to ever near-vertical descents and ascents, well it felt like it anyway! It’s on this first section that we take our first wrong turning of the walk…  as you can probably guess, I wasn’t navigating at the time! The wrong turning took us to a shelter and a viewing point looking over Blackchurch Rock, a natural double arch, carved out by the relentless battering of the sea. The wrong turning that was a blessing and worth the frustration.

As the landscape changed, from unspoiled woodland to beautifully desolate unforgiving, bare cliff rock and ‘Lost World’ waterfalls that tumbled blindly into the sea, Hartland Point came into view, with its lighthouse indicating the change in direction South towards Bude, with stunning views and the thought of that waiting golden nectar.

Hartland Quay, an old harbour, synonymous with smuggling and shipwrecks, is the end of Day Thirteen.

Day Fourteen and the rugged landscape, unrelenting descents and ascents into hidden valleys and big stormy seas, persist. It’s such a different landscape from the mountainous regions I’m used to, but in its own way just as spectacular.

The day is a little dank: waterproofs are on and the views are restricted to just a couple of hundred metres. We walk into Welcombe Mouth and the dank drizzle ceases and the skies open slightly to bring a modicum of hope for the afternoon’s plod.

If only we’d walked just a little further for lunch, we would have come across Ronald Duncan’s writing hut and enjoyed a mouth-opening view in relative comfort, but most of all, it would have been dry! As the weather forecast had been so diabolical, we’d shortened the route to finish at Morwenstow rather than Duckpool… fair weather walking really is far more enjoyable than being wet and miserable, thinking, ‘Is this day ever going to end?’

Morwenstow had an appeal: besides shortening the day, it had a tea room where we were parked. A cream tea was definitely on the cards. ‘The Rectory Tearooms’ – remember that name because a month later, we are still waiting to be seated. After a month of waiting my patience is wearing a little thin, as am I, in fact! It seems that four weary walkers with a not so weary dog and not dressed in their Sunday best, are not very welcome. We ended up at the Hartland Quay hotel, our starting point, for that very welcome amber nectar.

Today we start from Seafield House in Westward Ho! and straight away the path feels different. The ground is no longer hard and unyielding, there’s a spring to the ground that pushes you forward, without jolting every joint in your body with every step. Yep, the tarmac has gone. Joy, oh, joy. We are once again back on the SWCP proper, walking on the edge of the cliffs, looking out over the Atlantic.

The walk was through rolling valleys and open meadows, with seats dotted regularly along the path, dedicated to the memory of those walkers long gone. It reminds me that my once walking partner, Uncle Les (who abandoned me for two wheels), has promised to scatter my ashes from the summit of the In Pinn, on the Isle of Skye. Knowing that I would be forever walking the Cuillin Ridge drinking in those beautiful misty mountains, brings a smile to my face, but most of all knowing that it would have scared him shitless getting me up there, now that makes me laugh out loud… it’s my sweet revenge for having to look at his backside disappear into the distance, while I struggled to keep up for 20 years.

The rolling valleys disappeared and were replaced with unrelenting steep ones and the open meadow path became a narrow tunnel of gorse, brambles and nettles, with the ever-present noise of the crashing waves on the cliffs somewhere below. Every so often the tunnel would open up revealing the sea and yet another steep valley. On one of the descents, we were forced to one side as five joggers came tearing through the tunnel at breakneck speed, running for charity from Clovelly to Westward Ho! and back. Impressive, or so I thought until I looked back from the other side of the valley to see all five ambling up the path now that there was no audience to play to!

We managed to find one of those dedicated seats for lunch, looking out towards Clovelly and the Hartland Peninsula, which is to be our next goal in September. The afternoon wound down into Buck’s Mills, one of those timeless gems that keep popping up along the path. A village that shouldn’t really be there: why would you build one at the end of a steep, nearly inaccessible valley, with no harbour, natural or otherwise. I’m glad they did though, as it was the jewel in the day’s walk. The only downside is that when we start the walk again in September we know that we have a very very steep climb out of the valley.

No pub, no drink, just a long drive home! Not really a good end to the day.