Day 14 -- June 14,2011, Clovelly to Westward Ho!

The walk from Clovelly started along a beautiful trail 8 feet wide that reminded me of a former railroad bed. The grades were moderate – as would be necessary for a train. The trail passed through lush old growth forest, the trees covered with moss. Birds were singing the entire morning, obviously enjoying the warm sunlit day. But the trail was shaded by the trees, making for delightful walking. I’m not sure when the road was built, but a trail marker indicated that in 1901 the final 883 yards were completed to extend the road to Clovelly.

Graham

After about an hour of walking, I came upon a solo hiker named Graham, who said he left Westward Ho! about five hours earlier. Graham hails from Essex, and takes 4 days each spring and autumn to walk parts of the SWCP. He said that the segment we were walking on was never a railroad, but was a toll road, first for carts and then automobiles. He said that in the 1960’s the toll was £4.50, which was a lot of money in those days. He regrets never having paid the toll to drive on the former road.

Old growth forest

After another half hour, the road veered to the right to join up with what is now a caravan (trailer) park. The trail continued as a proper footpath through the forest. I felt as if I were in an enchanted forest, and half expected a wicked witch to jump out from behind a tree. There was no witch, but emerging from the trees ahead was Martin, a builder from Weston-Super-Mare, a city farther up the coast. Martin had just started a 4-day backpacking trip along the SWCP.



Martin

 Martin commented that in Scotland there aren’t as many public footpaths as in England, because Scotland has a right-to-roam law that allows you to go anywhere so long as you don’t harm the landowner’s property. Conversely, England has public footpaths that channel all walkers along designated routes. As a result, the trails see far more erosion in pristine areas (as we were causing on the muddy footpath) than would be the case if we were free to find alternate routes through pastures. I see his point, but personally I prefer the footpaths because I know they are eventually going to lead me to where I want to be. I would get lost a lot more frequently if I had to keep referring to my compass while walking and taking pictures.

Adrian and Anita

After a few more hours in the forest, I came upon Adrian and Anita, from Essex and London. They too were camping their way along the SWCP. It is interesting to me that in England people can just strike out on a multi-day hike, without having to wade through the permit process so prevalent in the U.S. I suppose that the numbers are relatively small and the impact insignificant.

After 5 hours I left the enchanted forest, and returned to the seashore bluffs, to the steep descents and ascents that are so tiring. I arrived in Westward Ho! around 6:00 – another full day made tiring by the ups and downs of the coast. Westward Ho! is the only city I can think of whose name includes a punctuation mark other than an apostrophe. I’ve heard that it was named by developers after a book of the same name. I’ll need to do more research on that.

Klaus and Gesche

I had an enjoyable dinner with Klaus and Gesche, a German couple spending a week hiking the SWCP.




© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 13 -- June 13, 2011, Hartland Quay to Clovelly

Without realizing it, yesterday I crossed from Cornwall into Devon. There was no fanfare, but there was a sign of sorts. While walking on the road from Lymebridge to Stoke, I entered a nature preserve known as the Marsland Trust, which had been purchased with the Cadbury candy fortune. After entering the preserve I descended a very muddy trail to a small creek, crossed the creek on a footbridge, and noticed a sign Marsland Trust Devon. I didn’t realize at the time it was telling me that by crossing the creek I had entered Devon.

Today dawned as ugly as yesterday set – heavily overcast skies and blustery winds. That, coupled with all the rain from yesterday convinced me that the coast path would be muddy and slippery. Once again, I improvised a route mostly on country lanes that took me though the village of Hartland, then across farmland, and finally joining up with the SWCP at Brownsham.

Since my improvised route shortened today’s distance significantly, I had time to explore the old church in Stoke, and to see some things that I would have missed otherwise.

Jack at Norton Farm

As I passed through the Norton Farm, I met Jack, who was driving a tractor. We had a good discussion about farming. Jack was born on a farm only a few miles from where we met, is now a pensioner, but is continuing to farm. I got the impression that the meager income from farming is adequate with a pension base, but a non-pensioner would struggle to make a living on a small farm. Today Jack was fertilizing a pasture, and before long he will move beef cattle on to the pasture to graze. He said that many walkers don’t understand the difference between dairy cows and beef cattle. Dairy cows are involved with people every day, and ignore walkers. Beef cattle don’t have any contact with people (other than with the person who placed the tag in the ear). They are essentially wild animals, and can be unpredictable. (That may explain why Jack Frost was attacked by a herd of cattle on his walk. Imagine how I feel destined to cross the same pasture with cattle two weeks older and bigger. Maybe by then they’ll be steaks.)

Much of today was spent walking through lush woodlands, the canopy comprised of oak and other hardwoods, and what appeared to me to be a variety of fir. On the forest floor were fern, rhododendron, and what appeared to be wild orchid. The leaf-covered trail was still wet and slippery from yesterday’s rain, but the forest fragrances were delightful.

Louis and Caroline

As I neared Clovelly, I met Louis and Caroline, from London, out for a stroll on the SWCP. Not much farther on the trail was a shelter, suggesting that civilization was close. The shelter looked fairly new, but an inscription indicated it was built in 1826 and restored in 1934.

Shelter with benches circa 1826

Clovelly is an interesting former fishing village built into the side of a cliff. No vehicles are allowed in the village, although there is a transportation vehicle to extract tourists from the bottom and return them to the top by an alternate road. A lot of labor went in to building the village, and a lot more to maintain it, but presently Clovelly appears to catch more tourist dollars than fish.

Clovelly's one street

I arrived in Clovelly at 3:00 – a much more civilized arrival time than I’ve previously had for any other day’s walk. With early arrivals in mind, I’ve decided to add a day to my Offa’s Dyke schedule, as well as a day between Bridgwater and Wales. That should give me more time to attend to domestic chores as well as to write up a blog. Not to mention pub time.

OK, I won’t mention that.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 12, June 12, 2011 -- Bude to Hartland Quay

Golfing in the Rain

“Rain before seven, clear by eleven.”   If I hear that expression one more time....   I walked through rain and wind the entire day. But the rain doesn’t affect the locals, so why should it affect me?

Abseiling in the rain

As I followed the trail ascending the bluff, I came upon a group of school children from Canterbury. They were still on half-term, and were engaged in outdoor activities. Today was “abseiling” from the cliff top. We use the word rappelling more often in America, but that’s a French word and apparently the Brits prefer to use the Swiss word. (Don’t tell them, but I think it’s actually a German word.) In any event, abseiling in the rain would give Geof Chaucer a new tale to write about.

Footbridge at Duckpool

At Duckpool (don’t you just love those names?), I decided that the trail was getting too muddy and slippery to be safe. I abandoned the trail and followed country lanes the rest of the way to Hartland Quay.

Aileen and Martin



The country lanes added some mileage to what had been scheduled to be a 14 mile day, but with the easy walking probably didn't add any time.  Except for a few other walkers who similarly abandoned the trails, the only traffic I enountered most of the day were the snails crossing the wet pavement.  

At 4:30, I stopped in the pretty little crossroads of Lymebridge and had tea and pie at a beautifully restored mill and garden.  It was far too wet to tour either the mill or the garden, but in the covered patio I was able to change into dry socks.  The two resident dogs hardly noticed.

I didn't linger over the tea, because I still had another 2 1/2 miles to go.  I arrived at Hartland Quay about 6:30, totally wet, totally tired, and totally happy.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 11, June 11, 2011 -- Boscastle to Bude

My personal welcome sign

Today was a long day. I left Boscastle at 10:00 and finally dragged into my hotel at Bude at 7:20. The SWCP in this section is extremely difficult, which explains why I didn’t encounter very many walkers along the way. Because there are so few walkers who actually come all the way from Boscastle, the Bude village officials put out a personal welcome sign for me when they heard I was coming. I was touched.

Boscastle is a pretty little village, much of it having been rebuilt after a massive flood in August, 2005.

Much of today’s walk was through preserve land owned by the National Trust. At one location, wild horses have been introduced. 

Ethel and Jennifer

After four hours of very difficult terrain, I arrived in Crackington Haven. As I entered the village, two ladies sitting on a bench remarked, “Didn’t we see you in Boscastle?” I said that was possible, and asked them if they had walked all the way. “Of course not, Boscastle is only a short drive – why would anybody walk?”

The rest of the day was occupied by more scenic views. The steep descent into Millook revealed a geologically interesting cliff face.  Enlarge the photo and look at the switchbacking layers.

Patriotic Brits

Scenery is getting old without interesting people along the way.










© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 10 -- Port Isaac to Boscastle

Rain before seven, clear by eleven.” Hah. It rained hard all morning, accompanied by a cold wind. No, a cold gale. Surprisingly, I came across at least a dozen couples out for the day. They were all staying locally, so they weren’t required to be out in the bad weather. They were just typical English walkers, who didn’t care about the weather.

I left Port Isaac at 9:30 and arrived in Boscastle at 6:45. I wasn’t dawdling, and my feet were not slowing me down. And I probably didn’t spend more than an hour talking to people on the trail. OK, maybe 90 minutes. It was a very difficult day, and I don’t see how Andy Robinson could have thought the walk to Boscastle could be done from Wadebridge in one day. Had I tried to do that, mountain rescue would be out looking for me tonight.

Just outside of Tintagel, I came upon a well-dressed gentleman sitting on a bench staring forlornly out to sea. I asked him if everything was alright. He said, “No. Tintagel is famous for the Tintagel Castle, and all of the lore about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.”

Pub named after Art

I told him that I had passed Merlin’s gift shop in town, and that it seemed that every store was selling replicas of Excalibur.

“That’s the problem," he replied.  "The whole economy of the village is built around tourists searching for King Arthur. And without the castle tours, I couldn’t afford to keep the castle.”

“You own the castle?” I inquired.

“Yes. I’m King Arthur, and if the tourists ever find me they’ll stop coming to Tintagel, and the village will go bankrupt and I’ll lose my castle. So every morning I’ve got to leave the castle and come out to this place on the trail where tourists never come. You aren’t a tourist are you? You shan’t – how do you say – blow my cover?”

“Oh, of course not. I’m a highly-trained lawyer, and preserving confidences is my stock in trade. Ask my friend Professor Ron.”

“All I ask for,” replied the King, “is to be able to walk around town without the tourists identifying me.”

“Not a problem, Art. Here carry my backpack. If you carry a backpack the tourists will not even see you. Even if you greet them with a hardy “Good afternoon,” they will avert their eyes and pretend you aren’t even there.”

"Should I remove my crown?”

“That won’t be necessary. If you carry a backpack you are reduced to the level of homeless, and even if you are wearing an $85 hiking shirt and $100 hiking pants and carrying state-of-the-art carbon fiber hiking poles that cost more than any tourist could afford, they will still treat you like you were homeless.”

“Homeless??? I own the castle!!!”

“It doesn’t matter if you own three castles. Carry a backpack and the tourists won’t even see you. If you want to remain anonymous, you would do better carrying a backpack around town than trying to find solitude on the trail.”

“That’s wonderful news. For your service to the crown, I will confer knighthood upon you.” And after contemplating the array of maps in my pocket and the GPS hanging from my backpack, he drew his sword and gently tapped me on the shoulder. “I dub thee Sir Lost-a-lot.”



Unusual Stile

 And that’s the truth. Honest.



© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 9, Wadebridge to Port Isaac

“Rain before seven, clear by eleven” was the advice I received from another breakfast guest. I hoped he was right, because it had been raining before seven and was still raining hard at 8:00 breakfast. By the time I left the B&B at 9:00, the skies had cleared. Never question a local’s wisdom.

The B&B I stayed in last night was built around 1670. To be sure, changes and upgrades have been made over the years, but the building remains basically as it was. The plumbing is probably from early 20th century. Electricity, probably a little later. WiFi was probably the most recent improvement, which is how I did last night’s posting.

The route from Wadebridge to Port Isaac by the South West Coast Path is 17 miles. Andy Robinson’s guide book for the End to End trail departs from the SWCP by passing through pastures and following country lanes until reaching Port Isaac, and then continuing on to Boscastle the same day – a distance of 19 miles. Since today was intended to be my rest day, I decided to follow Andy’s route only seven miles -- as far as Port Isaac --  and save the 12 additional miles to Boscastle for tomorrow.

It’s a good thing I did. I've developed blisters on the balls of my feet over the past two days, and despite treating them with every technique known to medicine, my feet were very painful today. I’m not sure I could have done 19 miles, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have been very happy. I’m hoping that the short day today, and only 12 miles tomorrow, will help them heal faster.

Port Isaac

When I arrived in Port Isaac, a television crew was filming an episode of Doc Martin. I had never heard of the program, but as was explained to me by a security official, it is a drama series based in Port Isaac. I thought I might have the good Doc look at my feet, but it wasn’t in the script, and actors have forgotten how to ad lib. I should have tried the old “Do you know who I am?” routine and promised them a ratings boost with my vast number of followers. Oh well, their loss.



A FEW WORDS ON MY MAP

As often as I can, I am inserting a marking pin where I spend the night. On the main map, very little progress can be seen. If you click on the link under the map, a larger map opens in a separate window. By continuously clicking on the + or – buttons, you can zoom in or out. (You’ll have to re-position the map by clicking the < or > buttons or the up or down buttons.) If you are interested, that will provide a better idea of what little progress I make. You can also switch between satellite images and the map. Finally, in some of the villages, you can drag the little man to a street and walk him down the street to see what I was seeing.

You can also click on my pictures to enlarge them in a separate window – so if you really want to see the rock Marley was carrying yesterday, you can.



© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 8 -- Harlyn Bay to Wadebridge

Locals say that the weather will be getting progressively worse for the next week. Today was a mixture of sun and rain, with constant wind, and temperatures alternating between pleasant and very cold – depending upon whether or not the sun was out. I don’t carry a thermometer, but measure temperature by the number of layers I need to wear to avoid shivering while walking. Hot is one layer – a T shirt. Pleasant is two layers – adding a long sleeve shirt. Cold is three layers, adding either a vest or a wind/rain jacket depending upon the wind chill factor. Very cold is all four layers. Extreme cold requires the addition of gloves and a wool cap. That’s all I’ve got, so anything beyond extreme cold results in hypothermia if not treated promptly at a pub.

Some of you may think this isn’t very scientific, but with enough gradients, it works quite well. For example, warm is between hot and pleasant, and the option of one or two layers is probably dictated by whether the trail is ascending or descending. Similarly for pleasantly cool. Those of you familiar with the Beaufort wind scale will recognize how well this works.

I’m getting tired of sea cliffs and beaches, so I’ve detoured slightly inland to walk through farmland. In England, public footpaths have been around for a thousand years or more, and public rights of way often pass through farmers’ fields. In the U.S. a farmer would shoot someone walking through his crops, especially if his crops are being grown in the national forest.





Padstow Harbour

 I was joined for part of the walk along the Camel Trail between Padstow and Wadebridge by a delightful gentleman named Neil, whose wife – believe it or not – was attending a cooking class today. I think it’s reprehensible that a husband would go out walking while his wife slaves over a hot stove – unless, of course, it’s for an emergency rescue.





Marley




Two questions for the day:


Why does Marley play fetch with a rock?

Do British fire engines float?











© 2011 Ken Klug