‘Roads to Hell’, a strange title for a walking blog! The reason I mention it is that much of our time is spent, in the morning, driving a car to the end of the walk for that day then driving the other car to the beginning and vice versa at the end of the day. This can mean not an inconsiderable amount of time spent on the road. I say ‘road’ in the loosest sense of the word! The ‘A’ roads in this part of Devon are not much better than a normal ‘B’ road and any other road is just a narrow track. During the process of planning the walk, I have chosen what I considered to be the ideal place to finish. What I failed to take into account was getting a car there. It appears that cars are yet to be invented in this part of Devon! ‘C’ roads (white roads on an OS map, which generally you would avoid at all costs) are the only means of access to my well-planned finishing points. Picturesque they are, driveable they are not. My car copes well with the deep potholes, the 12 inches of grass growing up the middle and the sometimes degeneration of the metalled road into a dirt track. The only problem is the width and the unforgiving nature of the high sided, 10 foot thick stone walls, which are covered in undergrowth! Andrew’s car, however, is considerably lower than mine with smaller wheels. On the plus side, though, it is slightly narrower. The size of the vehicle, though, is irrelevant if you meet another vehicle coming the other way. It’s sometimes a problem even if it’s only a pedestrian coming in the opposite direction. Locals, of course, are used to rat runs and do not give way, slow down or make any allowance whatsoever for us poor nervous tourists.

The other frightening side to these roads is the fact that there are three other ‘drivers’! ‘Braking’, taking sudden intakes of breath, shouting and gesticulating and warning you that there’s a car coming towards us… this doesn’t happen on a normal road but seems to be acceptable on a road where the driver is having to concentrate and anticipate far more than usual and is the cause of much muttering under your breath and sudden braking when not really necessary! This is what it was to be like for the next four days and I don’t doubt will reconvene on the first day of our next trip.

Anyway, the first day was a gentle walk to the Erme Estuary. It’s the only estuary that we actually cross over on foot, with no stepping stones, boardwalk or bridge. There is one proviso, this has to be done one hour either side of low tide! We were due to finish the walk on the south bank and the following day cross the estuary to the north bank; however, we happened to finish at low tide, so to save a really early start (I mean walking by 6:30am) the next day we crossed just to say that we had done it and the following morning parked our car on the north bank.

The following day blurred somewhat into the first as the path undulated its way to Burgh Island and its famous art deco hotel, which has appeared in many an Agatha Christie novel.

It’s not a section of the SWCP that stands out, but it is a section that is a pleasure to walk, with its undulating hills, long winding estuaries and golden beaches. It’s designated as an area of outstanding natural beauty and is thought to be one of the most beautiful sections of the SWCP; I’m not going to argue with that as better people than I obviously think so… but me, I still prefer the more rugged north Cornwall and Devon coast!

One particular highlight, though, was the ferry crossing from Cockleridge to Bantham: a beautiful, secluded estuary made all the better by the near perfect weather. Again, though, it was a bit of a logistical nightmare: the ferryman only worked between 10am – 11am and 3pm – 4pm. Not a big window to aim for, but not blowing my own trumpet too much, my timings were perfect!

We were to finish the day very close to where we were staying and hadn’t parked the car at the end. Instead, I went off to fetch the car only to find a little brown dog following me! Lottie has walked off with me on a couple of occasions over the last couple of years, but I was a little dubious that she wouldn’t at some point wonder where Andrew and Caroline were and double back. I have to admit I was a little surprised that she stayed with me all the way without looking back once! Maybe I do have at least one friend!

The next day started slightly differently from normal. Andrew and I took our return transport to Gara Rock, our finishing point of the day, whilst the girls walked down to our starting point at Outer Hope and slowly made their way without us… fortunately, I was carrying our lunch, which, knowing Carolynn, would mean that at some point along the path she would definitely stop and wait for me. If I hadn’t got that ace up my sleeve, I’m not sure whether we’d have ever caught them up! We did, however, and fairly quickly. It seems that they decided that an extra cup of coffee and slice of toast was the order of the day before leaving the Airbnb! The path, true to form, stuck to the coastal cliffs that undulated gently until we reached Salcombe, a beautiful town made up of yacht clubs and exclusive hotels, villas and houses. As with many Devon and Cornwall coastal towns, it’s a place of one season; the difference is its exclusivity, with its designer shops and houses. Many of these towns have lost their hearts and survive only on the titbits that the summer season brings.

We crossed the estuary and as with so many estuaries that we have crossed, doubled back heading once again towards the sea. It can sometimes feel a little demoralising as you turn back towards the coast and the opposite bank is only 100m away and we’ve had to walk four or five kilometres! The end of the day is Gara Rock, in the middle of nowhere, with one of the nicest hotels I’ve seen. Cream Tea… shame not to!

The final day is along a section of rugged and sometimes exposed cliff top paths. We walk as one, changing partners regularly as the conversation ebbs and flows. This is the rhythm that has set in over the last couple of years.

Conversation isn’t important, what is important is the company and the feeling of contentment that nature can exude. We finish the walk at Start Point, a rugged peninsula that looks out over the sweeping golden sands of Start Bay, the path that we will travel along in September.

More importantly Start Point is the only place other than the halfway point that there is a signpost showing the distance to Minehead and to Poole!

NEARLY THERE…

Another milestone, or should I say kilometre stone! At the end of this trip we will have walked over 2/3 of the 1014 km, quite an achievement for someone that doesn’t walk long distance footpaths: Carolynn who doesn’t walk at all, Andrew with his bad knees and Caroline – to be fair Caroline just gets on with it! The end is in sight, it’s still 330 km, but that sounds so much easier than 1000 km. Another five or six trips… could the end be next summer? Will we then feel slightly lost? There’s no one path in this country to compare lengthwise, but there are many other paths, unique in their own way. We are blessed with some of the most beautiful and inspiring National Parks. Just a little bit of trivia: this year is the 70th year of the 1949 Act of Parliament that led to the creation of our first National Park in 1951, The Peak District. This was all because of one of the most successful acts of civil disobedience in 1932, the Mass Trespass of Kinder Scout, which eventually led to the Countryside and Rights of Way Act 2000 and our ‘right to roam’. I kind of have two hats on here: as a walker and lover of the high wild areas of this country the ‘right to roam’ has meant that areas have opened up that were never available to me before; however, there are also farmers in our family and generally speaking they’re perfectly happy with the ‘right to roam’. Unfortunately, though, there is a minority of imbeciles that seem to think that a ‘right to roam’ means that the land is theirs and they can do as they like, leaving litter, vandalising stone walls, setting irresponsible fires etc. the list goes on… Always leave no trace and respect livestock and the farmers’ property. It’s been said many times, we are but custodians of this land and none of us truly own it, but we should all be able to enjoy it.

Enough preaching for one day! Five became six for this trip. Not Kate, this time, but my goddaughter and Andrew and Caroline’s daughter, Sarah, joined us. Young, uncynical (don’t think that there is such a word) and with no preconceptions, just looking to enjoy the ramble and rabble! The walk out of Downderry was short but steep as we climbed to one of the highest points on the south Cornish coast, but still only 141m! From there the path hugged the cliff edge until Britain Point, and the spectacular view of Portwrinkle’s harbour and the four mile expanse of Whitsand Bay, opened up.

The path led us through Portwrinkle and back onto the cliffs above Whitsand Bay and on towards Tregantle Fort. One of several surrounding Plymouth to protect us from those marauding Europeans! Never, however, used for that purpose, but is still used by the Royal Marines today. From here it was just a short hop, skip and a jump to the car and the end of the first day. Didn’t end with a beer and a cream tea, but we did manage an ice cream…with clotted cream on top!

Wind… I hate wind. I don’t mind rain, snow or even the blazing sun, but wind adds another dimension. Pair each of the above with wind, and inclement weather suddenly becomes tempestuous! No waterproof has ever withstood horizontal rain, no eyes can see through a whiteout and no skin can withstand the blazing windblown sun, burning without feeling. Today was a day of wind and rain, an already cold day made colder by the chill of the wind. A miserable start and one that didn’t improve until after lunch. We followed the rugged cliff path to Rame Head, with the wind trying to forever blow us into the white horses of the wild ocean. At Rame Head we found at least a little shelter in the ruined chapel, to then embrace the wind again as we moved on. Lunch was taken in the shelter of the ferry waiting area: very colourful and it even had comfortable seats but was open to the weather on two sides and the wind played us like children, suddenly and unexpectedly changing direction as we chased its leeward side as we ate sand-filled sandwiches!

The wind eased after lunch as the path passed around Cawsand Bay eventually reaching Mount Edgcumbe Country Park and the end of another exhilarating day. And, of course, a cream tea in the Orangery in its Grade I listed gardens, with Plymouth just across the estuary.

Plymouth, the largest town on the South West Coast path. A town steeped in naval history and as we walk through Devils Point, the start of our waterfront walk along Plymouth Sound, the past surrounds us. We walk past Sherlock Holmes’s Pavement, The Royal Navy Millennium Wall, The Hoe, Smeatons Tower and eventually to The Barbican and Sutton Harbour.

It was at The Barbican that temptation was laid before us, take the ferry to Mount Batton Point… or walk five miles around the industrial heartland of Plymouth. Is there a certain pride in wanting to walk the whole path? I’ve used chairlifts to gain time and height in the Alps and in no way felt guilty, it’s what you do. The scale of the mountains means you can save hours of torturous ascent or descent… but none of us gave this temptation a second thought, it was dismissed out of hand, without a word passing between us..

Mount Batten Point was a well-deserved lunch stop. Working industry has a beauty of its own and walking through Plymouth’s industrial seafront was, in its own way, exhilarating. Mount Batten Point was the end of Plymouth and its beautiful historic waterfront, industry and its unforgiving pavement pounding. We left this urban landscape and walked into South Devon and the cliffs that now seem so familiar.

The next day we were back to five; Sarah, had gone back to London the previous evening…the oldies carried on with a conviction these youngest seem to lack! We left the fortified Plymouth coastline and walked deeper into South Devon. Another landmark, Cornwall and its coastline is now behind us and Poole gets ever closer. Today’s a short easy walk close by the sea and then a ferry, crossing Wembury Bay to the end of this section of the walk.

I believe that this is our twelfth trip to the South-West. The excitement and expectation, though, are still as with our first trip, just over two years ago. There’s still, even after all these years, a thrill in studying an OS map, planning the route and hoping above all else that I’ve not made it too hard or easy. Although, none of the routes on the South West Coast Path are for adrenaline junkies, the nature of the terrain means that the path is somewhat undulating! I don’t mind, but both Andrew and Carolynn were under the impression that a coast path walk meant a stroll along the beach! However, this has certainly not been the case. There is in fact over 35,000 metres of ascent and descent: that’s the equivalent of scaling Everest more than four times!

We met up with Andrew and Caroline at East Portholland, the end of our first day’s walk. Apparently, if you put the wrong post code into the satnav it takes you to Mevagissey, which was the end of our second day’s walk, and not East Portholland! So I’ll blame the satnav for our latish start, but I’m to blame for what turned out to be a fairly long and arduous first day! Me, well I enjoyed the day: beautiful weather, picturesque coves and stunning sea views. The path changes from pastoral meadows to windswept cliffs on this day giving us fantastic views. We finished at East Portholland, a hamlet, with the only shop being a craft shop… heaven for one of our group!

The weather forecast for the week is not good and today started badly. Normally I wouldn’t start off in waterproofs, normally I’d bale at this point, go home and sit by a nice warm fire with my pipe and slippers, but if we don’t walk the schedule, what is now booked for the next few trips is ruined, so walk we must. There was, however, a certain refreshing feeling to walking in the rain. I enjoyed the feeling of the rain and the wind on my face. There was a spring in my step and I felt I was back on the right path. I’ve no idea why, I don’t think that it’s this particular path, it’s that I was once again doing one of the things I love most with the person I love most.

The morning’s walk was still a little miserable and lunch seemed to be a long time coming; we walked into Gorran Haven, hoping, no praying for a sheltered place to take lunch. We found an undercover heated outside table… paradise. We all stripped off our waterproofs. Andrew and Caroline tucked into an all-day breakfast; Carolynn and I were a little more restrained. It seems that our packed lunches would have to wait until tomorrow! An hour sitting in the dry was enough to see the rain blow over and, for a short time at least, for a while the sun came out. The rain might have been refreshing but the sun always brings a smile. Mevagissey’s quaint narrow streets didn’t come soon enough at the end of a long exhilarating day. And what did we find, a café and a cream tea… what else!

The following day started with a beautiful sunrise; Lottie and I were the only ones that saw it, though! Not that unusual, but sleep isn’t inducive to seeing the wonderful golden light of sunrise. Today we are walking through Poldark country, Charlestown: a port that seems to be stuck in the 18th Century. It’s a place where I could have spent hours taking photographs, but as Carolynn regularly says, “We never seem to get time to just stand and stare, we always seem to be marching forever forward.”

The path seems to contour the cliffs. The ceaseless ups and downs have become more infrequent. I am, however, very conscious of the constant steep drop on my right, this is how I envisaged the coastal path, a narrow and exposed path.

Our lunch stop is on a row of seats at Lower Porthpean. It’s reminiscent of the sea front at Brighton, four middle aged people sitting looking out to sea pondering their Glory Days! After lunch the path changes again as we enter St Austell and the old port of Charlestown and then finally to Biscovey and the derelict industrial wasteland of the china clay industry. Not a very inspiring end to the day, not a place to stop, no cream teas and no refreshing pint! Industry doesn’t need to be ugly, nor does the landscape that is created around it, but Biscovey was not a place I wanted to linger and was only too happy to drive away.

The next day was a day of rest, if being with Andrew can ever be called restful… he’s always on the go and the day of rest was a day at the Eden Project!

The Forty Third Day on the SWCP saw us swiftly move away from Biscovey and its dying industrial heritage and we’re soon back on rolling coastal hills heading towards Fowey and the ferry crossing to Polruan. We walk past St Saviour’s Point and follow the cliff tops to Triggabrowne.

The narrow path, as in previous days, clings to the cliff’s side, contouring around the headlands then sweeping down into a cove only to ascend back up steeply and without mercy. The rollercoaster path eventually descends steeply into Polperro and its picturesque harbour, but more importantly its café and a well-earned rest.

The path to Looe is similar to the previous days: a varied walk along narrow cliff top paths, hidden coves and open fields until the small fishing town of Looe is reached, the end of the day’s walk.

The final day, from Looe to Downderry, reminded me somewhat of the section around Bideford – much of it was road walking, which I take very little pleasure in. The road often hides the view with its high hedged walls and wind-blown trees shielding the road, often making them dark and a little dismal. It’s a short day and we find a very characterful café on the beach at Seaton. As always with these stops it’s 800 calories used and 801 calories consumed! The final couple of kilometres is what Carolynn expected of the coastal path, a walk along the beach with the beautiful turquoise sea against a thunderous dramatic sky. A lovely end to an up and down week.