Piggy Pub: Salcombe - East Prawle

The YHA didn't have wifi so we spent all morning in the Salcombe library racking up hoards of expenses in increments of pound coins to hog their computer, printer and scanner. Managed to get Curt's work done but also managed to develop a migraine, reminding me that work is not agreeable to my health.

But with a daily dose of the SWCP, a nap on the cliff tops and a little pharmaceutical help my migraine faded.

The weather was cool but sunny. We took the ferry across Salcombe harbour to South Sands and enjoyed a cool walk through a wooded area overlooking beautiful white sand bays. Yachts sailed peacefully around in the estuary with Salcombe rising tastefully up it's western banks. A fairly exclusive area I would guess, considering the quality shops around the harbour and some rather grand estates.



It was stunning walking scenery on rocky cliffs topped with neatly sheep grazed grass, buttercups and daisies. This soft topping often created a dangerous overhanging cornice, concealing steeply eroded cliffs below. (Avoiding the cliff edges has been a constant goal of ours this trip).

The picture below is of a sheep family we successfully reunited :) the mother was in one field already with a lamb but was bleating crazily to another lamb in a different field. We rounded up the lamb using our best shepherding techniques, opened the gate and little lost lamb ran straight to his mother's udders. We were so very pleased with ourselves!



As we approached Pig Nose Point the weather started to cloud over but the comforts of aptly named Pig Nose pub were awaiting us.


As we ascended the cliffs towards East Prawle Village and the pub we were surprised to meet Ken coming the other way down the path. He was off to climb on some scary, sheer cliff face below one of those green cornices we had been so carefully avoiding. Ken always was an amazing climber appearing in many guide books for first ascents but even more amazing that approaching age 50, he is still out there scaling the cliffs.

Wendy was waiting at the top of the cliff in their van with a pot on the boil. We spread out a blanket and picnicked on biscuits and gigantic mugs of tea...



.....before heading into the quirky Pig Nose Inn adorned with pig noses on the bar, snuff boxes, trinkets, curios, various bric-a-brac and cosy corners to enjoy a pint of good beer or cider. And conveniently located next door was a camping field where we stayed for the night.


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Bigbury - Salcombe

Life has become so simple again. I am over-the-top happy at being at this youth hostel in Salcome. We hadn't planned staying but our path walked by the YHA sign directing up the predictable hill to the hostel and we diligently followed. Actually we thought it may have wifi and Curt needs it to send some emails for work :(

[I have to say that this trip is not quite so laid back as last time because we still have time constraints. Last time I had all summer with no real destination other than an unrealistic goal of reaching John O Groats. It seemed like I had all the time in the world to go and do whatever I wanted and I wasn't sure if I would even to return to my job. This time we only have 5 weeks and we have a self imposed goal of reaching Poole. That means we have to keep marching on and our jobs have not gone away.]

The ferry over the River Avon dictated our timetable today as it only runs for a couple of hours a day (there you go....last time I would have been blissfully unaware, waiting for the tide to turn or some dude on a surf board to rescue me).

We left the farmers field early to avoid being ploughed over by a tractor and then had hours of breakfastless waiting before we could get over the river and start walking. On the march back down to Bigbury-on-sea we passed a golf course and asked a few early golfers where we could get a cup of coffee at such an early hour and we were directed into the very posh but luckily empty club house. We then wasted some time amusing ourselves over the really cool coffee machine, putting in £ coins, selecting sachets of hot chocolates and coffees from the little drawers and then sat rather brazenly in the comfy chairs of the very warm clubhouse to enjoy them all

It was freezing last night!!

I had needed to wear all my layers to sleep and had still been cold. I continued to wear them all morning resulting in a very light back pack. Another negative generating a positive - they are all over if you look for them.

Down at Bigbury-on-Sea we sat outside a closed cafe and froze until they eventually arrived and opened up early as they felt sorry for us. Unfortunately there was no inside to this cafe and we had to remain at the picnic tables as we enjoyed some coffee, toast and marmalade and shared it with this very precocious robin.





Here's the ferry over the River Avon.




And for Dr Tom Brickey (my dentist) if you are reading. Here's me flossing
my teeth at the River Avon.



It was beautiful walking today and it seems we have finally quickened our pace - a combination of lighter packs and increased fitness. Still not fast enough however to catch up with a depressingly old looking couple that had got out in front of us and stayed that way all morning despite us feeling quite competitive. We walked atop huge cliffs with the stormy sea crashing far below and passed through the beautiful villages of Inner and Outer Hope pictured below.


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Newton ferrers - Bigbury

Leaving the comforts of Ken and Wendy's home was not easy. We had stayed up until almost 1:00 a.m. the night before but I still felt the need to chat and hang out more, as there just seemed to be so much to talk about. But the SWCP awaited and I knew that this was just the beginning of a really good relationship between us. We left with treats in our back packs, clean clothes and a plan for them to help us across the next estuary.

Here's us posing as we left Newton ferrets in the drizzle.



The scenery today definitely belonged to Devon and not Cornwall. So weird that an arbitrary line drawn between two counties can also mean a tangible change in landscape. We have left behind the quaint Cornish fishing villages and rocky coves and have moved onto the larger more rolling cliffs. It seems less fishy here and more agricultural. More cows and sheep grazing the cliff tops with a back drop of fields and the Moors in the distance.




We arrived at the mouth of the Erme river which at low tide is crossable via stepping stones (if you don't mind wading up to your knees) but we had arrived at high tide. So, with a cup of tea and yet another pasty we waited for Wendy to pick us up and drive us around to the other side of the Erme. It felt so warm and comfortable in her car and for a minute it made me wonder why we just didn't hire an auto and do the tourist thing the regular way. But that's all it was - just a minute of doubt - I wouldn't do this any other way.

As we walked around the cliffs we could see an island looming - our map told us there was a pub on this island. Excited at the prospect of an island/pub combo, we marched onwards planning to have some tucker inside and perhaps camp outside. As we closed in we realised there was a rather large white monolith of a hotel on the island dwarfing a gorgeous, historic looking pub called the "Pilchard". The mystery of how to access this island was revealed when we spotted a bizarre vehicle on massive wheels escorting passengers over the shallow waters from the mainland.


It's usually good to stop the locals for directions, advice etc because they are a wealth of knowledge compared to our cluelessness and they invariably end up assisting us in some way (helps to pet their dog as as well and comment on how cute). This particular woman gave us the disappointing information that the Pilchards was owned by the hotel, was full of "Londoner's" (said in a very condescending way), over priced, would never allow camping and would never allow "backpacking riffraff" (said in an even more condescending way - not really - but I knew she was thinking it) such as us inside. She did instead drive us up the road, with her multitude of dogs, to a pub called the Royal Oaks - much more our style and it was pie night. They were happy to sell us 2 veggie pies with complementary desserts.


But the accommodation was still out of our price range at $90 per night. Good pies but the pub was not special enough to warrant those kind of prices. So we settled for the free farmers field around the corner.



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Plymouth - Newton Ferrers

There are multiple ways to walk the SWCP. Mary and Dave are walking sections and have planned them out in advance. This time they are on their way from Falmouth to Exmouth, staying in B&B's and using a bag service to ferry their bags between destinations. The benefits to this are obvious, namely; no weight to carry, a daily goal to achieve and no stress finding accommodation at the end of the day. But despite this, it lacks the ability to be spontaneous and I would not have wanted to miss out on today's improvisation.

Blue skies prevailed from the window of our pent house suite and calm waters filled Plymouth harbour this morning.



The path took us over the swing bridge at the barbican, over to the other side of the harbour and into the industrial neighbourhoods and docklands of Plymouth. Felt a little out of place rambling through this area with big packs, boots and walking sticks.

This did not seem like our SWCP but Plymouth had compensated with these large missile signs (below) replacing the rather more surreptitious wooden way marker sign with the familiar acorn. Not sure you can see in this picture but those vertical letters read South West Coast Path. It was so big we nearly missed it.


Got Curt to take a picture of my sunglasses today so I could see how ridiculous they look. Think I lost my very expensive Serengeti sunglasses in the pub in Polruan but replaced them with this pair found on a bench a couple of days later (ask and yee shall receive). Not really my style. A bit bug like/ Paris Hilton-esk but useful non the less.



And these are my new shoes. These crocs make fantastic pack shoes, an alternative to boots once at camp. They are incredibly light and very purple:



I am really stylin' on this trip"..........

On the subject of shoes.....Curt has been having issues with his boots. He brought his old leather pair (circa 1985 from Alpine Sports) which he feels are way too heavy for this path and slows him down (that's his excuse anyway). Since this revelation he has been wearing his trainers which are not appropriate either. Pete told us about this new camping shop in town which just happened to be on our path, so we stopped in. Two hours later we emerged with a new pair of boots and shirt for Curt, a smart wool teeshirt, shorts and socks for me.

Finally headed out the other side of Plymouth, which has ended up costing us a small fortune; what with the pent house suite and now our shopping spree (here's looking back to the metropolis)......



....we were back on our familiar cliffs and just after "Jenny Cliffs" we discovered this sign telling us we were over half way there to our destination Poole (only 175 1/2 miles to go!!)




After a relatively easy walk we arrived at the mouth of the beautiful river Yealm - the first of many tidal estuaries to cross.



Pete had arranged for a mutual friend of ours (not seen for 26 years) to take us across in his boat. But before then Curt had some work to take care of. For some bizarre reason he had arranged a phone interview at 5:40 pm with the Park City Fire Department for a job as an Inspector. As he counted down the minutes to 5:40 pm, he paced around the cliff staring at the cell phone, providing a non stop commentary on the state of it's signal "one bar now, no bars, two bars, three bars, no bars". As long as he stood on his head at the top of the cliff with his finger in his nose, he miraculously got a phone signal. In this position, with the wind whistling around and the sounds of the English countryside in the background he tried to pursuade his future employers of his resolute desire to be a fire inspector. Only Curt could pull this off!

With amazing promptness we were down at the ferry dock at exactly 6:30 pm and Ken was there to greet us. He not only took us to the other side of the river but took us on a tour up stream, let us drive the boat and then invited us back to stay.






We spent a wonderful impromptu evening with Ken and Wendy in Newton Ferrers (ironically iPad likes to change this word to ferret), finding that we have tons in common (namely two teenage sons and a rat). Pete came over and we sat around chatting and laughing. I found myself laughing so much more than usual - I guess it's that British humour that I know and love. I felt a real bond with them - yet another reason for me to come home to England.


So glad that I never plan anything, otherwise this evening may never have happened.
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Pilgrim Fathers: Crafthole - Plymouth

Woke up in the Finnygook Inn and enjoyed the luxury of a cooked breakfast with beautiful views out over the Devonshire countryside. Today we would leave Cornwall behind and enter into Devon.

We walked along the cliffs above the long stretches of sand at Whitsands bay


And walked amongst these really cute holiday cabins dotted around the cliffs. This is where the SWCP became a little too much for Curt to bear. Once I had explained to Curt that the SWCP was originally made by the HMS coastguard to patrol the coast for smuggling, he seemed to accept it's nonsensical trip around every headland and it's visit to every cove. But this path across the cliffs went out of the way to visit almost every one of those cute cabins using steep steps up and down, up and down, up and down the cliff face. "You can't tell me they were looking for smugglers in each one of these cabins?" says Curt with yet more expletives.

I ignored him.........

..............You can't tell by this picture below but I found them so very sweet and this one had a matching sweet little car in the driveway. It reminded me of walking through Beaconscott model village as a kid.


We left the little cabins behind and walked out onto Rame head to a medieval chapel with lots of charm



Very windy too


Pondering from the chapel window


As we rounded the corner of Rame head, Plymouth bay came into view with a busy naval vista of large battleships cruising the channel, doing whatever battleships do when not at war. Onto Cawsand for yet another pasty/cup of tea/flapjack and then along a very flat stretch of the path as it wound it's way around the perimeter of Mount Edgcumbe Country Park, through wooded areas, deer parks, idyllic ponds, green rolling hills, historic gardens and eventually a glimpse of Mount Edcumbe House itself, nestled in the hill and looking splendid up this big green, tree lined pathway.



I would have liked to explore this place a little more, perhaps visiting the main house but it was late and we had to catch the ferry over to the city of Plymouth - home to the royal navy and a maritime wonderland of docklands, harbours, yachts and great seafaring pubs.


That's how I remembered Plymouth anyway when I lived here about 26 years ago. I thought Curt and I would find some great accommodation in one of the historic pubs in the barbican. The barbican is old Plymouth with skinny cobble stoned streets and original buildings predating the pilgrim fathers voyage from here to the New world in 1620. Unfortunately it now seemed seedy to me and any of the decent pubs were full.

Herein Curt gets a little upset with me as we traipsed around the city fully laden - exhausted from a long day of ups and downs - trying to find the perfect accommodation, until I eventually rung a default guest house 'Seabreezes', located at the other end of the harbour and decided to trek off there. It was expensive but another couple of SWCP followers had booked it for the night and I knew they had done their research.

Once curt had showered and had a beer in hand, all was good again and our room turned out to be the pent house suite. Way too nice for us and not enough of the evening left to take advantage of it but it was definitely preferable to the scary pubs we had visited earlier. Had a lovely drink down at the Waterfront bar with our two new friends (David and Mary) the fellow walkers and exchanged stories of the path, discussed the weather, ferry crossings, blisters, calories consumed, sausage sandwiches verses veggie breakfasts and agreed whole heatedly about the health benefits of this long distance walking lark.

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Rain, Gooks and Drinks with a Special Friend: Looe - Crafthole

Just to let all of you know that you should be able to comment on my blogs a little easier now as I changed the settings. I don't think you will need an ID anymore and you can just sign in anonymously but make sure you sign your name after so I know who's commented. Comments are very welcome as I really enjoy them - thanks to those that have already done so :)

I've been trying to add some videos but then the blog takes forever to post, if at all. So sorry, may have to stick with the pictures and there are not many of them today because the weather turned lousy.

It started to cloud over as soon as we started walking and then it rained for the rest of the day. It meant that we could try out our cool yellow ponchos - should have taken a picture but didn't want to get the camera wet - they really are outrageous. Didn't wear them for long and Curt binned his almost immediately.

I did take a picture of this cool labyrinth on the side of the hill. Supposedly an ancient symbol that shows up in many different cultures and as far back as 10,000 years ago. In Celtic terms it signifies water. I walked round it a few times hoping it would keep our good luck going.




And here's a picture from yesterday (Lantic beach) as it's pretty beautiful:



I think my metabolism is slowly returning to normal. Since we started walking I have been absolutely ravenous. I usually eat a lot anyway when I first get to England because I am tempted by the newness of the food (pasties, creamy cornish ice creams, scones, jam and clotted cream - yum) but I'm sure I wouldn't normally feel the need to stop at every cafe. I have even managed to put on weight. I know a lot of this is muscle weight. Because OMG my calves are enormous. Medically speaking it's my tibialis anterior muscle - the only muscle in my body that i do not wish to develop. Poor Curt is not getting a tan as he always walking in the shade of my calves and tibialis anterior! But anyway, over the last couple of days my appetite seems to have settled down and I might even be noticing a decrease in my waist line. I mean, how can I walk all this way and not lose weight?

Whilst discussing my body, it's worth noting that luckily I seemed to miss out on the first stage of blisters but there is a little know second stage of blisters that occurs after successive days of walking and I am getting these. Hard skin starts to form on your heals and balls of feet, this then forms new creases where blisters develop. Really annoying and hard to treat because it has nothing to do with my boots or rubbing.

At a little village called Portwrinkle (very odd names down here - Clittiswood, Shag Rock, Cunnimall beach to name a few) we found a phone box. One of those traditional red ones, that looked surprisingly delightful to us despite the outrageous collection of spiders and webs, sweet wrappers, rotting pieces of pasty stuck to the receiver and that distinctive disgusting phone boxy smell. Then ensued the comical scene of us both trying to squeeze into the phone box to escape the rain until we realized it wasn't happening with our packs on. Once securely in we phoned my friend Pete and because it was raining, he wasn't out climbing and was, at very short notice, available to join us at the Finnygook pub up the road in Crafthole!

The Finnygook (named after Finny the smuggler and gook for his ghost that haunts Crafthole) was a lot better than the phone box. It had an open fire, good beer, nachos (a bar snack that seems to be getting popular over here) and rooms available. We took the last room for the very decent price of £45. Had a wonderful time with Pete and then retired to the comforts of our room and watched some mindless TV until very late.







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Easy Dilemmas: Polruan - Millendreath beach (east of Looe)

What to do? Do we carry food or eat out? And then do we cook food or just eat cold stuff? So many dilemmas when you have to carry everything on your back. Even after fourteen days of this we are still undecided. We will buy food in the shop only to throw it away later because it is too heavy to carry. So far we have discarded a can of soup, donated an unopened bag of oatmeal and my dried black beans to the backpacker hostel and left a wonderful pot jam at the B&B. Only to want all these items again very soon after. We never seem to have the right combination of foods at the same time. If we have bread we don't have anything to put on it and when we have jam we don't have anything to put it on. It is definitely easier to eat out but obviously more expensive (although perhaps not if we continue to chuck stuff away) and less flexible, as you can only eat when there is an establishment in which to do so. Whether to keep the stove and billies is also in question. We are trying to limit the amount of water we are carrying, so we frequently don't have enough to make tea once at camp and don't want to cook anything because we can't clean up. I decided last time it wasn't worth carrying a stove and I think I'm coming to the same conclusion. These are the kind of tough decisions I am making out here on the trail - isn't this great?!!

Actually finding a place to camp is a little like the food dilemma. If you see a flat spot you have to take it because if you don't there won't be another for miles and if you do there is invariably an absolutely perfect spot around the corner. That's the way it was tonight. We are camped on a beach just outside the seaside town of Looe and it's unusually unpicturesque. Behind us is the concrete remains of some kind of beach cafe and up on the cliffs are some gross holiday beach chalets. But it's flat and sandy soft, tucked away and we were desperate to stop - so here we are.

Today's stretch of the path was exceptionally beautiful, especially so because the weather was perfect. Very strenuous though, with steep descents and almost immediate ascents rising vertically up like a step ladder - continuing to irk curt. FYI - guide book says that once you have completed the SWCP you will have climbed the equivalent of Everest four times from sea level - so this path is definitely not easy. At least we don't need any oxygen.


Our path visited Polperro today (14 May) and think these pictures will show you how beautiful this little fishing village is.







Mr building inspector Curt Allen would not approve these 16th century sticks holding up this building:






I love being in this tent. I find it amazing that such a thin piece of material can feel so secure. It is such a lovely feeling to crawl in and lie down out of the wind and weather, knowing that I don't have to move again for at least the next eight hours. Only wish the sleeping bag wasn't so slippery as I spend most nights trying not to slip down to the bottom of the tent. My next invention will be a light weight sleeping bag made of non slippery material and a thermarest with one of those anti slip rug pads attached.


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