I’m not too sure how to describe the next two days… it was two days of tarmac bashing, hard on both feet and moral. The first of the two days has little to commend it: we follow the River Taw Estuary into Barnstaple, cross the Taw and promptly do a ‘U turn’ along the other side of the estuary, finishing up at Instow. Mudflats, sand and tide and a very rewarding pint or two in Instow watching the tide slowly creep forward.

Forever closer, the following day started with our lunch stop less than 500m as the crow flies, if only that was how far it was on foot! We could take the ferry, but that might be considered cheating, my head said so, but my feet were of a different opinion. Not sure how my head won the argument…

Useless information – Bideford Long Bridge is 203m long has 24 arches and is Grade I Listed… I hope the river is aware of its Grade I listing.

The walk, similar to yesterday’s along the Tarka Trail/SWCP until at last we bade farewell to the Tarka Trail and crossed the Bideford Long Bridge. We followed the Torridge Estuary and as yesterday the river crossing saw us walking back the way we came, along the West Bank through Bideford and on to Appledore – home to Hocking’s Ice Cream. It’s also where the bow sections of the aircraft carrier HMS Queen Elizabeth along with parts of its flight deck are being constructed (I must be short of things to write about if I’m writing so much useless and irrelevant information). A beautiful village though and one that saw us lingering watching the tide ebb leaving the many small boats high and dry.

‘A blister is a small pocket of body fluid (lymph, serum, plasma, blood, or pus) within the upper layers of the skin, typically caused by forceful rubbing (friction), burning, freezing, chemical exposure or infection. Most blisters are filled with a clear fluid, either serum or plasma’.

What that definition doesn’t explain is how painful they are. Andrew, unfortunately, has a number on the ball of his foot caused, I believe, by ‘forceful rubbing’. He decides to shorten the walk slightly by missing off a fairly irrelevant section around Northam Burrows Country Park, a site of special scientific interest or to us SWCP veterans a peninsula that lengthens the walk by approximately 4 km for no apparent reason! However, it was a great end to a rather flat day, in both its meanings. We walked toward Westward Ho! following its long beautiful sandy beach. Bursting with holiday makers, surfers, kite surfers, body boarders, swimmers and just people enjoying themselves.

How do I describe Westward Ho! and why has it got an exclamation mark at the end of its name? There is only one other place in the world that has an exclamation mark after its name. It’s all because the town is named after a book of the same name. Back to ‘How do I describe Westward Ho!’ A west coast version of Skegness – that actually shows it in a better light than I intend. It is a seaside resort with ‘Kiss me Quick’ hats, candy floss, fish and chips and thieving sea gulls. Popular, you bet! It must be me and my ever-increasing age, where peace and tranquillity are my main aims in life. There is, however, one peculiarity: a derelict house, called Seafield House, at the most southern part of the town built in 1885 as a summer house, with unrivalled views of the Devon coast. I mention it only because it stuck out like a sore thumb, a thing of beauty on the edge of hell! A little harsh, maybe, on Westward Ho! But it’s not a place I will remember with fondness.

Although we didn’t finish at a place that all good walks should, we did end up in the same pub at Instow that we frequented at the end of yesterday’s walk, practising my retirement job… making sure that the tide was in full flow, a fairly straight forward untaxing job and like me, it was.

Carolynn and I are sitting in a nice warm dry pub in Braunton, Devon having lunch and a drink. Outside the precipitation is both persistent and wet. We know this because, as the windscreen wipers we’re working double time, they were having no effect; the road was no longer visible as the rain drops formed a barrier that the tyres didn’t appear to penetrate. But most of all we knew because the short journey from the car to the pub door was only achieved by a record breaking 50m dash!

Andrew and Caroline are running late due to an accident on the M4. I’m thinking it’s not yet late enough to walk if they arrive before dark, although Carolynn and I are perfectly happy sitting watching the Masters golf tournament, blissfully uncaring of the weather conditions outside. But they do arrive before dark, therefore Part Three of the SWCP will begin!

I have always been a fair weather walker. I’ve driven to North Wales and then straight home again as the weather was not conducive to dry walking. For me rain tends to spoil the enjoyment I get from walking, so if possible I avoid it… especially starting in it. Time, however, is limited, holidays are precious so with only 924.3km to go all four plus Lottie set off, in the RAIN!

There is something about a seaside resort in the rain that is somehow depressing, almost haunting and Saunton Sands is no exception. A washed-out beach, with just a few hardy surfers, dog walkers, runners and four very optimistic walkers and a dog, who’s face tells it all!

There isn’t much to report on the walk itself. It was along a hard sandy path, with Braunton Burrows Biosphere Reserve, the largest protected dune area in the country, on one side and flat pastoral meadows on the other. 

The view was limiting and the walking straight forward. The one highlight was Crow Point. From there we could see the town of Instow, our goal for the end of Day Ten and it was just 3km as the crow flies. I’m certain that we’ll be cursing that estuary that has forced us to walk an extra 40km before the end!  

Heatwave. Brings back memories of my teens with songs like ‘Boogie Nights’ and ‘Always and Forever’, but this is a different sort of heatwave, one which saps your energy and your will to live, rather than makes you want to dance. Anyway, we start this day with a full complement: Andrew’s ankle is feeling tickety-boo, great news, ‘Five are together again’! The day starts with the SWCP running adjacent to Woolacombe Sands, a beach famous for its surfing and even at 9am it was packed. As we walked away from the car park you soon realised that it’s only packed at the northern end; if you could be bothered to walk just 10 minutes down the beach, you’d have it to yourself! The scenery was singular in nature, as the path wound its way through the deep dune, restricting the view to sand and more sand.

We slowly rise above the beach and head out over a peninsula to Baggy Point, a place used by the Americans during WWII to train for the D-Day Landings. There’s also a strange white pole stuck into the ground with no apparent use… ah but a little digging and everything becomes obvious:

‘The pole was installed by the Coastguard in the 1930s as a training tool. Coastguard volunteers would fire their ropes towards the top of the pole, simulating firing ropes up towards a ship that had been grounded on the rocks. Once attached to the pole the ropes would be used to slide a “breaches buoy” over to the ship so that stranded Mariners could be winched to safety’.

These days though, the pole is used for climbing practice by passers-by, it seems.

For some reason we splintered into four groups at this point, that means we each went our own way, as there are only four of us! I went down to take a closer look at Baggy Point, Andrew and Caroline stopped for a rest and drink, whilst Carolynn carried on along the upper path looking for shade. Caroline followed the SWCP towards Baggy Point and the lower path, as did I, whilst Andrew followed Carolynn along the upper path…  it seems that the high road and the low road do, eventually meet, doesn’t mean to say the people walking on either path will, though! Carolynn found her shade, just not where the rest of us expected and it took us some time to locate her. She, though, was oblivious as she sat calmly waiting in that precious shade!

Next stop Croyde and lunch at a cafe where no one appeared to speak much English. Getting a drink was challenging, to say the least. Carolynn’s fervour for ordering pints seemed to have come to an end and she ordered two halves instead – apparently, there is a difference; I’m struggling to see it, myself! We hit Croyde as it was preparing for its very own Glastonbury-style music festival… shame we couldn’t stop! Carolynn and I walked along Croyde Bay on the hard wet sand whilst Andrew, Caroline and Lottie struggled over the thigh aching dunes as Lottie wasn’t allowed on the beach. Guilt troubled my every step, thinking of the three of them struggling, two steps up, one step back in the loose, steep, sun-baked dunes… mmm maybe not!

The rest of the afternoon’s walk was both tedious and hot and the car couldn’t come soon enough. The day finished at the beginning! With a pint at the same local hostelry as the previous day. Then homeward bound, to return again in July. 100km walked, I think a wonderful achievement from a lady that would never walk more than five or six kilometres and that had to be on a canal path.

We start today from our Airbnb and re-join the path near Ilfracombe harbour, an easy start, walking through the old town and past the two cooling towers of the Landmark Theatre. Suddenly we were out of the town and rising steeply to the Seven Hills, which afforded a view across Ilfracombe onwards past Great Hangman

Again, there is only the three of us and Lottie; Andrew’s ankle is still swollen and hopefully he will join us at lunchtime. The walk from the Seven Hills is straight forward I would go as far as to say, downhill all the way to lunch; however, two other people on the walk might tell me that my recollection is too rose tinted, anyway I can’t remember any strenuous uphill sections! Lunch was in the picture postcard village of Lee. Although a little busy, it wasn’t too busy for such a beautiful setting. The village, though, had obviously seen better days with a closed down sea front hotel and a pub that hadn’t been updated since the late 40s, but the houses and gardens were a dream. Chocolate box perfect, in fact. I can only assume the demise is because tourists demand beaches to be sandy and not rocky as Lee’s is. It’s a place to dream and to forget about the mad, miserable, and selfish place that our world has become…  bit too serious, sorry.

Andrew, as promised, joined us after lunch and we embarked on one of the most trying, but picturesque sections so far. Up only to go down and down only to go up, to me it’s the law of nature, to those that like their walking flat, it’s a pain in the a…  The walk to the lighthouse at Bull Point and Morte Point (we’d been past a few Points today, Flat Point, Shag Point, Breakneck Point. None of them seemed to live up to their names…  I was particularly looking forward to Sh.. Point, I mean Flat Point) was undulating, is I think the best way of describing it. The heat meant the afternoon was best suited to swimming rather than walking. Swimming, though, would not get us to Woolacombe and that well-earned drink with my new pint drinking wife!

The day eventually came to a welcome end and at last, I can say that the day finished as all good walking days should, with a pint in the local hostelry.

My thoughts are straying to Kilimanjaro as we walk this section. It’s suddenly dawned on me that it’s only two months away. I have to say that I’m enjoying this walk with Carolynn and two very good friends; it’s different and makes me realise that greater ranges aren’t the be all and end all…  but they still have a pull that I’m unable to resist and hopefully Kilimanjaro will be the first of three trips to those greater ranges over the next couple of years.

At the car park near The Glass Box three persons… trying to be politically correct, I promise it will be the only time… and their dog went to start the walk – the intelligent amongst you know that should read ‘four persons and their dog’. We appear to be a man down. All that back slapping and self-conscious laughing that Andrew and I did when he fell yesterday didn’t stop his ankle from swelling and making normal walking painful. So, today it’s three of us and Lottie that start the second day.

Today we tackle the highest point of the South West Coast Path (in future to be called SWCP), Great Hangman Hill. As the crow flies, a very straightforward walk from our starting point, in reality though, geography had a different insight in how ‘the crow flies’ is interpreted. A crow, as you know, can fly, however, for some reason we struggled to get any real or imagined lift. It seems a crow is better adapted at this flying lark than we are. It soon became apparent that walking up inland valleys, back to the coast, down and then steeply up again would be the only way to reach Great Hangman’s Hill. I strongly suspect that anyone sentenced to be hanged there died of exhaustion long before the summit was reached or maybe they only ever reached the lesser summit of Little Hangman Hill. I suppose it might have depended on what sort of view you wanted during your last throes of life! Or as Monty Python suggested, ‘Always look on the bright side of death’ and with the exceptional view gained from the summit, I’m sure the penitent did.

We met up with Andrew at Combe Martin and had lunch in the coolest place… in the shadow of a wall in a public car park. Yes, I was using the word coolest in its original form as the heat was becoming quite oppressive. The afternoon was spent leisurely walking along a beautiful section of coast, up and over small bluffs, in and out of inlets and peeking down into hidden coves. The sting in the tail was Fort Hillsborough, a 100m climb from sea level only to descend 100m back to sea level in Ilfracombe. Again the day didn’t finish as all walks should, instead it finished at our lodgings, where I have to admit the warm bath nearly went down as well as a pint.

Talking about pints, Carolynn has never in the thirty odd years I’ve known her, been known to order a pint. Well, pick me up, slap me around, hang me by my feet and make me sing Bye Bye Baby by the Bay City Rollers, did she order a pint of lager shandy! I was dumbfounded. I thought I’d married a lady, not some roughen from Nunsthorpe! I had to share this revelation as I think it will become one of those pivotal moments in my life, a day I’ll remember, the day my wife became my drinking partner!

The weather forecast is for temperatures to reach a balmy 27 degrees, great for lying around in the sun with a cool lager… but not so welcome when your intention is to walk on an exposed, shade free and Nepali flat coastal path and as you know, there is nowhere in Nepal that is flat! But mad dogs and Englishmen springs to mind. The commitment has been made and sworn with blood, so it’s onwards and definitely upwards, the four of us, plus Lottie, must go.

We start, where we finished, at Hunters Inn, all the way back in February, a drink and a hearty lunch is compulsory. This time we decided to walk the day of arrival, rather than waste half a day. The idea is to get three and a half days’ walking in a long weekend, so as to maximise the time we have.

The first section is a steep upward pull of 250m. Not the most auspicious of starts but one we were expecting. Eventually, the path started to contour around the hill; we moved above the trees and the vista opened to a stunning seascape, showing the Devon coastline in all its glory. The path contoured gently around Peter’s Rock and East Cleave and the rest of the day’s walk was a pleasant amble to the Glass Box. Well, a pleasant amble for three of us. Andrew, unfortunately, tripped over his own feet I think, but in doing so twisted his ankle. Not a good start to the four day walk! He appeared to be OK, and typical of a man’s man we slapped each other on the back and heartily laughed at his comical fall!

This is where I normally say, ‘And now we finish where every good walk should finish’… but this time we finished at a car park in the middle of nowhere and not a pub in sight. So, back to the Hunters Inn and a welcome, no not a pint, but cool ice cream, a grand finish to the first day’s walk.

An uneventful first day, short and not too taxing. Just enough to oil the cogs, brush away the cobwebs, whet the appetite for the longer days ahead.

Carolynn and I are on our way to Minehead to do three days of the South West Coast Path. We’ve just stopped for our first coffee break at Gloucester Services…  what a fantastic place! Busman’s holiday springs to mind. But I have to admit that even after 37 years in this business I still get excited looking around new petrol stations and the ideas that start to form from looking at other sites…  sad isn’t it?

Anyway, let’s discuss the South West Coast Path. I hate long distance paths, or long distance anything, for that matter. And past experience does not bode well for me to complete it! The same can partially be said for one of the companions on this trip, Andrew, a veteran of two failed Pennine Way attempts. Failure to finish any long-distance footpath is in my case, a common theme. Pennine Way, tried twice, failed twice. West Highland Way, also, tried twice, failed twice. The reasons: knee, ankle, weather and the worst excuse of all, a burst appendix! I suppose the last one could be classed as a reasonable excuse. After the appendix episode, I came to the conclusion that long distance footpaths, were not for me…  a 100% failure rate!

Looking back over my trips to the Himalaya. I’ve attempted four mountains and summited only two. Even my maths isn’t bad enough to know that’s a 50% success rate/failure rate. Over the years that I’ve been walking/climbing I have absolutely no idea what my success rate has been. But on a scale of 1 – 10, every walk/climb that I have completed or failed to complete is an 11 to me which is all that really counts.

The only thing I would question is the word ‘success’. If you go to the Himalaya to climb a specific mountain, then ‘success’ has to mean whether or not you summited…  or does it? To the purist, yes it does. To many it’s the enjoyment that’s important, summiting is just a by-product of that enjoyment. As Alan Hinkes said, ‘Coming back in one piece is a success, reaching the summit is a bonus.’  Maybe that’s true of any Himalayan expedition, but for a walk in North Wales that could be classed as a little overdramatic. The ‘Summit is a bonus’ I believe to be true of any expedition though, whether in the greater ranges or the lesser ranges of North Wales, Scotland, Lakes etc. It’s not about ‘The Journey’ or ‘The Climb’ it’s about the enjoyment that you, as an individual, can take away from the expedition. 

I appear to have gone off track. Long distance footpaths…  mmm, since those dismal failures, I’ve steered away from any long-distance walking. But I have, once again, been inspired to attempt one of the longest ones in the UK, by none other than my long suffering and patient wife, Carolynn. It all started when we were in Barnstaple last year and we did a small six mile section of the South West Coast Path and for some unknown reason I asked her if she wanted to walk it all…  and to my complete surprise she said YES – that’s only the second time in 30 years! Happily, two good friends of ours, Andrew and Caroline, have decided to join us, not forgetting Lottie, their dog, which I know will incentivise all of us.

So, four of us stand at the above monument waiting to start the 1013km journey from Minehead to South Haven Point. My goodness that number is big! Time isn’t an issue, we have as long as life itself. If I was pushed, I suspect it will take approximately three to four years, walking just two or three days at a time. Anyway, this is the first three days.

Don’t let the above photograph fool you into thinking that the day started sunny and warm. The photograph was taken the evening before. No, the day started cool and dank and to cut a long day short the weather didn’t change for the rest of the day. There are two routes for day one, the high easy route and the low, clifftop rugged route.

Being the sort of man I am, we, of course, took the high easy route! The day was one of an initial steep climb with then happy wanderings over easy moorland paths.

The only real difficulty of the day was walking across Bossington Beach, a stone bank that ran for 3km, with an interesting river crossing near the end. Well, interesting for Caroline, anyway, (please don’t get the names Caroline and Carolynn mixed up, I have in the past and it’s very embarrassing)  as her feet ended up very cold and wet.

We finished at Porlock Weir. This would be my second visit. My first was over 45 years ago when my sister and I went on holiday with our Aunt and Uncle and it’s a place that sticks in both our minds as over the years we’ve both mentioned Porlock Weir, with a smile.

The day finished in a place where every good walk should finish amid tales of all of us losing our way in the swirling impenetrable mist and of us wading through a raging torrent of waist, nay, neck high water, clinging to each other for dear life as we crossed the mighty river, which doesn’t even have a name on the OS map! But that’s what a couple of pints in the Bottom Ship Inn does for you!

The following day started wet. And being the experienced walker that I am, Carolynn left it to me to pack the required requisites for the trail…  I only forgot one thing: her waterproof jacket. In a desert climate, it probably wouldn’t have mattered that much, but in England in the middle of February, it was a fairly essential piece of kit. Luckily for me it was quickly rectified with a trip to the local Rohan shop. She now possesses a far better waterproof than I’ve ever had! Divorce, would, however, have been far more expensive!

Again it’s a day of easy, relaxing walking up to the smallest complete parish church in England, Culbone Church of St Beuno. We then carry on along the permitted lower path, walking the contour along a wooded track of emerald, mint, olive, pine and forest greens, in fact, every shade of vivid green imaginable.

There are numerous bench and stone seats for the weary walker to admire the view… of even more trees, as the coastal forests have been left to grow as nature intended. The weather improved dramatically after lunch and for the first time we walked with the sun lifting our spirits.

Suddenly the wood ends and we see our final destination, Countisbury. The coast path has the final laugh, though, as we descend 250m into the valley to then have to climb back up to the summit of Countisbury Hill, with a wonderful view of Lynmouth…

But most importantly… to where every walk should finish! And once again the tales abound, of the 5000m of ascent on near vertical wet and slippery paths. Of the torrential tropical rain in the morning giving way to the Saharan heat in the afternoon… facts, what are they? At least there was no snow!

Day Three started downhill, brilliant, but in the back of my mind there is a nagging feeling ‘whatever goes down, MUST go up’! For now, though, we walked steeply down into Lynmouth to a well-earned coffee and cake…  hey this is my kind of walking!

And to top it all we all agree to use our initiative and hitch a ride on the historic water-powered funicular cliff railway from Lynmouth to its twin Lynton, a height gain of over 150m. Some call it cheating, but hey, who cares?

Today is a day of dramatic landscapes and rock formations known as The Valley of the Rocks, made famous by R. D. Blackmore’s Lorna Doone…

and the beautiful valley, where Lee Abbey stands. Then back to the cliff hugging path as it leads into Heddon’s Mouth and once again…  to where every walk should finish! Today there are no tall tales, just an appreciation of a great day’s walk, all washed down with a Devonshire cream tea!

The first three days completed. The first time I’ve walked any great distance with Carolynn; I hope she sees and feels what I have over my years of wanderings and that she realises it doesn’t matter whether those wanderings are in the Dolomites, Himalaya, North Wales or a stroll down the local canal, it’s the enjoyment and in this case the company, that’s important. The icing on the cake is that we are wandering with two of our very good friends, Andrew and Caroline (not forgetting Lottie the dog).

The last day was, in my eyes, the most rewarding. Ambling along the clifftop, with a constantly changing vista, the sun peeking in and out of the clouds and then to finish up a hidden valley, with only one sour thought, next time we have to go from sea level to the highest point of the whole walk!