Journal:
I got up at
6:30am and tiptoed round the dormitory trying not to
disturb my three companions and regretting not
getting my stuff more organised before going to bed.
The previous night, just before going to bed, and
after a quick guesstimation of the distances ahead
of me tomorrow, I had booked a bed at the Tintagel
Youth Hostel. It would be a Saturday night and
might be busy.
I was now leaving the
Coast Path and heading inland, following the route
suggested by the guidebook I had been following.
At first the suggested route just cut out a couple
of low headlands before briefly rejoining the Coast
Path at Padstow. The inland route to Padstow
at first paralleled then crossed a very nice
heath-like golf course, before weaving it's way
across farms and along country lanes. The
terrain was relatively easy and I enjoyed crossing
the fields and over the hedgerows and fences using
stiles (some of which were very challenging for a
bloke with a pack and bung knee).
Padstow turned out to be a
beautiful old fishing village with winding streets,
lop-sided houses, and a rock-wall-enclosed harbour.
It had become a tourist town and I counted five
Cornish Pastie shops within 50 metres of the
harbour. I found a bakery and enjoyed a fresh
made ham and cheese croissant and a cup of coffee
for breakfast. From Padstow, the official
Coast Path catches a ferry across the wide Camel
River estuary then resumes following the coastal
cliffs on the other side. However, if you're
going to walk from Lands End to John O'Groats,
ferries are out and the suggested route followed the
Camel River inland to the first bridge at Wadebridge
before returning to the Coast Path at Port Isaac.
Between Padstow and Wadebridge there was a
rail-trail for 8km along which I made good time.
There was a bitingly cold wind and I marvelled at
the guy taking waterski lessons on the wide river.
Being Saturday morning, there were quite a few
cyclists using the path as well, most of whom gave
me a cheery hello.
Wadebridge was quite a
large town with lots of Saturday morning activities
and a fair number of tourists. I had planned
to have lunch there, but it was only 11:30am and
most of the pubs didn't open until noon. I
decided to continue on and once again followed a
delightful and scenic route which linked a
number of public footpaths, rights-of-ways and
country lanes across farms and hedgerows to the
small village of Chapel Amble where I had lunch at
the only pub in town. It was a bit pricey and
I went for cheaper cheese and pickle baguette and
sat in a corner catching up on my email, though
reception was poor.
From Chapel Amble it was
more farms, footpaths and hedgerows, the kind of
countryside I had always envisioned would make up a
large part of this trip. On occasions, the
footpath passed right through farmyards and, at
other times, took you across the middle of grain
fields with no marked route, but just aiming for the
stile you could see on the other side of the field.
I crossed a low range of hills, offering splendid
views back across the Cornish countryside, before
making the steep descent into the quintessential
fishing village of Port Isaac. I gather it's
where the British TV series, Doc Martin is filmed.
There were lots of narrow winding streets, historic
old buildings of all shapes and sizes, many with not
a right-angle to be seen, and lots of tourists.
I bought some fudge for afternoon tea and sat by the
harbour, huddled up in the cold wind, enjoying the
scene.
I was starting to realise
that Tintagel Youth Hostel was still quite a
distance away as I rejoined the Coast Path and
headed east. I had the path virtually to
myself in the late afternoon and enjoyed the steep
coastal scenery, but was suffering a bit on the
seemingly continual steep ups and downs to cross
streams. The farms here ran right down to the
coast, so most of the time I was travelling along
the fence-line that separated the fields from the
cliff edge. I eventually reached Trebarwith
Strand, a very small village, soon after 7pm and
went into the only pub to get dinner. It was
buzzing on a Saturday night and I had trouble
finding a table, but eventually found a small one
near the kitchen. I think the publican and his
wife took pity on me, because they gave me a the
biggest servings of farmhouse stew and rhubarb
crumble imaginable. The farmhouse stew didn't
have too many vegetables, but made up for it with
tender meat, dumplings and a rich brown gravy.
I really struggled to finish the crumble, but
managed in the end, and left with some jokes about
whether I would make it up the hill out of the
village.
From there, it was about
another hour's walk along the cliff-tops to the
Youth Hostel, itself some kind of old lightkeepers
residence (I think), and I enjoyed walking in the
setting sun. It turned out there was only one
other guest at the hostel in addition to the very
friendly custodian. I spent the last few hours
of the day doing my chores and chatting with the
other guest, a cyclist from near London, who had
also been a late arrival. It had been a long
and tiring day, but a satisfying one.