Mick has bailed out. I'm not sure whether it is the cliffs, the climbs or the company. Perhaps a combination of all three? Anyway he hopped on the bus and high-tailed it back to Devon. This has left me with a small problem. Against my better judgement we had agreed to share the load and carry one two-man tent rather than carry two separate ones. So now I have one heavy tent to carry by myself. I toyed with the idea of letting Mick take it home but then I would be dependent on finding hostels or bed and breakfast accommodation which could a) be a pain/problem this time of year and b) would put my costs up considerably. I decided to carry the tent and see how it went. There was a bus service all down the coast so if it got too bad, I reasoned, I could catch a bus home too.
I retraced my route a little to get back to the point where we had gone wrong yesterday. It was a glorious start with a walk out to Pencannow Point before dropping back down to the hamlet of Crackington Haven and a large fry-up at the
beach cafe there. Despite the fact that I had always intended to do this walk solo, it felt a bit weird walking on alone and I felt a little bit apprehensive. I forced myself to get a grip. 'It's Cornwall, for god's sake Ellie,' I told myself. 'I can get a taxi and be home in an hour, what is there to be nervous about?'
I had to adjust to the heavier pack but I found that as long as I the rucksack was tight enough it wasn't too bad. I found the best way to do it up was the same as wearing my scuba kit: bending my knees and leaning forward so my back is horizontal and there is no gravity pulling down on the pack, then do up waist and shoulder straps tight, then chest strap last. This minimised any pulling down by the pack.
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| Category F |
I was dismayed though when I came across the first big dip and climb, an 'F' category. (I had by now begun categorising the hills into Bs, Fs and Cs - B**tards, F**kers and C**ts.) A few more followed; to compensate the views were stupendous down the coastline with rippling green cliffs and a gorgeous and clear aquamarine sea. Past an interesting rock arch I came to samphire rock. Samphire seaweed is known as Cornish Asparagus and I wondered whether it was as nice as North Devonshire Laver which I adore - fried with local bacon and cream it is superb. Through the Strangles, where cliffs have slumped and the the rock has folded and twisted, crumpled like paper under massive forces millions of years ago. The weather was misty now though, and my photographs rubbish. Take a look
here for some decent pictures.
Rounding Fire Beacon Point above Seals Hole, I hear a mournful wailing song coming at me eerily from the cliffs below. Climbing down, I see on the rocks at sea a colony of seals. Hearing them, it was easy to understand the origin of the stories of the
selchies, mythical creatures who could shed their seal skin and become human.
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| Seals at Seal Hole |
At Pentargon waterfall the path dips down and then climbs a quadrillion steps. I was feeling weary now, hauling myself slowly up each one. How pleased I was then, to come across
Boscastle Farm Shop and slump in to a comfy armchair for half an hour with a pot of tea and a newspaper! Refreshed I didn't feel too bad for the final mile into Boscastle. I had been entertaining thoughts of a bed at the youth hostel here but it was not to be, a sign outside said they were fully booked. It was not yet five o'clock though, so I stopped for another pot of tea at the National Trust shop, stocked up on provisions at the local shop and then plodded up the hill out the other side of the village.
In the cliffs opposite, under Penally Point is a square shaped hole in the rock known as 'the blowhole'. Here, at certain times of the tide, the sea is forced through the hole sending a spray of water across the bay. On previous visits I had spent long periods watching the spectacle from the bench here. Today I was a little early for the full display though.
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| The Blow Hole, Boscastle |
Climbing the hill past the lookout station I came across a trio enjoying the walk across the top and stopped for a chat. John was walking the coast path too, he had left Minehead five days before I had. We agreed that walking the path was not a thing to be rushed. I told him about the chap I had met back in Watermouth who had walked from Land's End in 14 days and not enjoyed it and he told me about a chap he had met who was walking 25 miles a day but had not stopped to look at anything. 'I'm taking my time,' he told me. 'I want to have time to enjoy it. I've been staying at Port Isaac for a week.' He was over from Australia and his wife and her friend had come to join him for a bit before heading up to Scotland while John got on with his walking thing. He planned to finish in mid-September. It seemed to me he had exactly the right idea.
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| Not amused to come across this backpack-unfriendly stile at end of the day... |
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| Ladies Window, near Tintagel |
The walk from Boscastle to Tintagel is a classic, and I've
written about it before, with amazing rock formations including the natural arch known as 'Ladies Window' and the spectacular
Rocky Valley. I passed a campsite here, but decided to press on into the centre of Tintagel where there was a campsite nearer to a pub. I had definitely earned myself a pint.
The campsite was a nice small one next to a farm. I pitched my tent next to the wall behind the cowshed and strode into town for a beer. I found
King Arthur's Arms which served a fine pint of Harbour Special from the nearby
Tintagel Brewery, a full-bodied beer with a creamy head which went down so well I drank another two pints. By the time I came out of the pub a thick fog had descended. It was just as well it was only a short hop back to my little tent. Despite having nothing between me and the ground except a thin piece of foam I slept like a log until milking time at 6 o'clock the next morning.
Distance: 11 miles
Total Distance: 147 miles
Accommodation Ranking: 7/10
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| Gull Rock |
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