The Spanish are coming: Marazion - Praa sands (7.6 miles)

Packed up everything into our backpacks and bid farewell to Castle Horneck YHA. We decided not to partake in the breakfast today as we wanted to get an early start walking. However being new to this stuffing the backpack process, it took us forever to get sorted and we ended up leaving late anyway. In a pitiful attempt to lighten up his load, Curt donated his deodorant to the YHA lost and found box. The guy who runs this YHA (runs the reception, cleans, cooks and serves all at the same time) was delighted, saying he regularly raids the box searching for deodorant for his own use but is always careful to wipe off the hairs first - gross!

Back on the SWCP the path initially stayed low, traversing through farmers fields, hugging the rocky beaches. Then climbed up onto the cliffs doing it's usual weave in and out of coves and over headlands. All the while St Michael's Mount stayed annoyingly visible over our right shoulder making us feel as though we were not progressing.



I think the day of rest yesterday from carrying our heavy packs was beneficial. Those areas on my hips and shoulders that had felt so sore had gone. The pack felt heavy and my legs still felt too weak but at least that incessant rubbing and aching had stopped. From past experience I had wrapped my toes with tape to prevent blisters and so far I have none.

At a headland called Cudden Point we took some photos and sat for a while to take in the beauty around us. A soft covering of lush mosses, grasses, succulents and blooming wild flowers created a comfortable seat and blanketed the cliffs, creeping over the edge, clinging to the sides and spreading down to meet the harsh grey rocks and the turbulent turquoise sea below. Seagulls, Ravens and the rare Cornish Chough danced and soared on the thermals, chatting and laughing together in glorious fun.



Cudden Point


Bessie's bay was small and intimate with wet, slippery chunks of granite, forming steps that rose and fell steeply around the cove, weaving under a tangle of vegetation and spanning the trickling creeks and boggy areas. This bay housed some ancient looking buildings, some more habitable than others but probably all belonging at one point to the estate we were about to walk through. It wasn't hard to imagine the inhabitants of this beautiful house, looking out the window back in the 16th century, to see the Spanish Armada amassing on the horizon.



Curt and I were also able to find our perfect fixer upper:


With a BBQ:


Garage for the Smart Car:


Boat shed:


And loo:



This is the estate we wandered through and it was unfortunately impossible to get a good photo of its vastness. On the edge of the cliffs, imposing, castle-like and Elizabethan (have no idea of the era but to me, Elizabethan looking), ready to withstand an attack from the Spaniards.


Looking back at the estate:



At Praa sands (and finally out of view from St Michaels Mount) we stopped for a totally delicious cheese and tomato sandwich and pot of tea. From the cafe we watched the surfers try and catch very mediocre waves then crash into thick seaweed, emerging from the icy sea wearing a Rastafarian wig of kelp. They were very persistent going back for wave after wave - it made me feel terribly exhausted so we decided to go to the local shop for some provisions and head out for a wild camp somewhere close by.

We ended up in a great spot just up from Praa sands on the cliff. We were very excited about using our stove and making some tea with the organic dried milk I had purchased from Whole Foods before leaving. But less excited when we saw the results.


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