the peak district

Hello

Went to the Peak District over Easter. For now here is a shot of Mam Tor the morning after some heavyweight snowfall. Feel it.

Best for now

David

the first 8 days of my journal

I thought I'd put up what I've written so far. I have kind of given up with it because it's going to ages but we shall see.....

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THIS IS UNEDITED AND MAY CONTAIN THE USE OF SWEAR WORDS. APOLOGIES TO THOSE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE AND ANYONE ELSE FOR THAT MATTER.

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A south west coast path journal

September 1 to October 27

August 31

T minus one day and down with the olds to Minehead. I had the intial plan to do this walk about a year before this when I was suffering from clinical depression and related mental health problems. At the time I’m not really sure why I thought about doing it and it semd like an echo of rationalty amongst all the ’madness’. As I gradually recovered (this still goes on by the way) I took the idea more seriously and last March I decided to definitely go for it and make a proclamation to those around me that I intended to undertake the south west coast path.

As an child and since I have gone a numerous holidays to the South West. Appledore, Northam Burrows, some weird hippie peacock infested caravan site in Parracombe and the more upmarket environs of Salcombe have been scenes of a number of holidays over the years. As a result I have developed a strong affinity to the area and had taken walks on a few of the stages of the walk before. It seemed to some extent a natural task to undertake therefore. 630 miles of British coastline that from all reports read during my research was describe variously as extreme, amazing, very tough, exhausting, find some quotes. But despite all this it was the right thing at this time.

But I’m not a serious walker, I’m no a member of the local rambling club or anything like thar. I’ll walk into town but that’s only about 1 mile in distance. I prefer other activities such as swimming, cycling and I’ve just got back into tennis which I really enjoy. What I get most out of long distance is the discovery of the local area. During my training I worked out two circuits which took a lot of the local Surrey countryside. Stick on the ipod or whatever you do and get out there. Surrey is blessed with some beautiful countryside. I would walk out to either Puttenham Common one way or St Martha’s Hill both which had the distance but as I worked out when I started the walk nothing like the hill training need to be comftable with the opening days of the walk.

In my modesty I never have really seen the import of the task I was undertaken. One of my tennis buddies made a comment that he felt I wasn’t fully prepared for it. Well I could never fully commit myself to completing the walk as I had no idea how it was going to turn out. As you will read after day two I was all or coming home. So on the level I suppose didn’t commit myself fully on an organisational front. I had a number of anxiety attacks in the build up to the start of the walk, mainly about ftness, I knew I hadn’t the level of fitness I would’ve liked but also about my mental health, whether I could handle the time away alone. During the real depths of my mental breakdown I spent nearly my whole time on my own so that was a real issue for me. When people asked me about the start of the walk and how I felt about it I would just that I was going don to start the walk and I would se what happened.

The first thing I did was get hold of Paddy Dillon’s quide book of the walk. I hadn’t been personally recommended this book I found it on amazon but I would send out a personal recommendation to anyone undertaken any part of the walk to get this book. The people I met on the path had it too which shows it’s usefulness and throughness. It provides extremely detailed descriptions of the walk with colour os maps and any information you might need regarding refreshment points and what to expect from the towns you pass through on the way.

I also joined the South West Coast path Association. Annual mambership is currently 11 pounds. The book you receive as part of the membership is also invaluable. This provides a host a further information; tide times, contact detials for numerous b and b’s and campsites, ferry operators and much more.

I took both the above books and together I never had to consult any other publications whilst on the walk.

So training started seriously in march time. Before my breakdown I ad weighed a healthy 12 and a half stone and was very physically fit. As a result of the depression I had put on about 5 stones in weight and lost all motivation for exercise. Thus I had to start again in this. I had been going to a local gym for a few months and had taken part in a swimathon at my local gym just around that time so I was getting in some sort of good shape again but as I discovered when I started the walk it would take a lot more commitment then most people would be able to give. At first I would give one day a week to walking long distances around my local area, with at first a small rucksack full of books. These were some of dad’s best hardbacks and a combination of seat and sometimes rain meant that they soon started to become a little frayed at the edges. So books became bricks and the small rucksack gave way to my 75 litre rucksack. But at most the weekly mileage I was doing up to the start of the walk was no more than 30 miles at best. But 15 generally. At this level it took me two to three weeks on the path to get to close to full fitness.

A couple of injuries put training on hold so that would be something to bear in mind. One was a pulled muscle whilst working at my voluntary job at a local arboretum. The second was more serious when I tripped over a pot hole on the outskirts of Guildford. It pays to concentrate on every step especially on paths that you know very well. I was admiring some local architecture and the next thing I know and flying headfirst towards a gravel path. A 20kg rucksack landing on my back gave me little chance of escaping unscathed and a large hole was scraped in my elbow. I felt sick and could hardly stand up due to the shock of the fall. Luckily this all happened next to a row of houses and a couple rescued me and I wa able to clean up, have a drink and sort out a life home. This put training on hold for a good four weeks. There was nothing I could do expect and short walks, and I got very worried about losing the level of fitness I had built up.

It didn’t start out as a fundraising event but I gradually turned to the idea of raising money. In the end I settled on three charities to raise money for. The British heart Foundation, a charity I had raised money for before by taking part in the London to brighton Bike ride. The National society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children and Rethink, a charity helping people with severe mental health problems. I wasn’t aware of the bookshop run by Rethink in Godalming until I moved back there but I had come across the rethink charity during my time as a day patient at the Community Mental Health centre at brighton general. Above the bookshop was a resource centre for people referred by their GP. To try and raise awareness of the walk I contacted the local press and managed to get a page 2 splash in the Surrey Advertiser. I also organised a concert at a local pub.

I think all in all he focus I had in preparation for the walk was very important to me.

The Walk

Saturday September 1 2007

Day One Minehead to Porlock

I woke early. It was dry, cloudy but dry. I knew I had to repack the rucksack, as after having spoken to a couple the night before at the b and b we were at, it had too much stuff in it. By the time I had finished I had ditched a nice pil of clothies that I was going to leave behind. I didn’t know what to make of the task ahead as we had breakfast, but I suppose concentrate in the here and know. I went into Minehead to buy some last minute supplies, cutlery, matches and the first of my collection of postcards that I intended to collect on each stop of my walk.

There is a choice to be made on the first days walk. Whether to aim low and walk to Porlock which is about 10 miles or double on the next stage and complete the walk to Lynton and Lynmouth. My very first plan was to complete the whole walk in a month which would have given me no choice. However that decision was changed quite soon after I had started my training that I would give myself two months to complete it. So having a short first day made sense and relieved the pressure as I was well used to completing 15 miles in a day. So we left the bed and breakfast about 10 and walked down towards the promenade and the start.

There is a well described monument to signify the start of the walk and a thick white starting line with an arrow pointing west. There is not too much to see in front of you as the path doglegs pass a pub so you can’t see much beyond you. I stopped to take some photo’s and have my picture taken by my mum in front of the monument and then with the minimum of fuss I was off. My feelings as I crossed the line was that my pack was very heavy. Too heavy probably and that I felt very weighed down by it. I was still quite heavy physically so as I walked along the fron at Minehead I was in no mind as too how difficult this walk was going to be. My Mum and Dad walked with up until the we passed a café on our right. I insisted that they stop and have a coffee, and so it came to the point when I went off properly on my own.

I looked back two or three times and they disappeared out of site and then I turned for the last time and began to think about the walk ahead. Minehead also quickly disappears and soon there is a choice to be made whether to take a path up hill into the woods or carry on along the seafront. As it turns out it makes little difference as I found out either way means having to climb up two steep hills. I chose to carry on along the promenade but was soon breathing heavily as I puffedI was sitting down after the first two of these taking some apples and nuts when my first encounter with a fellow walker. Ruth was walking from Minehead and Padstow. She had chosen the other route but was making noises about the climbing. I was immediately struck by how small her pack was. Her tent and sleeping bag were, get this, inside her rucksack which compared to my pack looked miniscule in comparison.

My thoughts as the path moved out of the woods onto the cliffs and gorse was that I hadn’t done enough training and wasn’t carrying enough water. Both of these observations would prove to be correct on a number of occasions over the next few days. But here I was out on the cliffs on the South west Coast Path. After all the months of training to be finally out here doing it, looking back to Minehead thinking that it had all begun.

I came across some horses and then shortly after that the path forked giving you chance to take ‘The Alternative Rugged Path’ to Porlock. The official guide said it actually wasn’t that bad and it wasn’t. There was just one steep valley to negotiate, but it did feel like a long slog and I had a nap at the top of the other side of the valley. It was here that I ran out of water even though I had just under half the days stage to go. But I pressed on and rejoined the main path towards Porlock. I think it is easy to underestimate the strain your body is put under going downhill. I didn’t really think about this during my training but a few miles before Porlock there is a very steep climb downhill. Ooh it was agony and I was just expecting to fall over at any time. Though the view across Porlock Bay was a grat sight. I was coming to the conclusion that I was not up to the job but on seeing polock ahead of me I got a burst of enthusiasm and pressed.

It was at the top of this hill that I met the first of many people that would help me on my walk. I got talking to a family who were out walking, I moaned on for a bit about my lack of water and they reached into their pack and gave me a bottle of water. They told that it Porlock festival in town that evening so my ambition to not drink alcohol on the walk was to go out of the window that evening.

I stopped for my first cup of tea and cake in Bossongton and relaxed. The garden was beautiful with loads of Hydrangers out and other plants contributing to a lovely vista. I sometimes will press on a walk on when I should rest. The chocolate cake did me th world of good and I started out on the short walk to Porlock, football on the headphones. The sun came out as I entered Porlock and I found the campsite. Now the fun began. I managed to break my brand new tent. In my haste and lack of practical skill I was a bit previous with the front tent pole and managed to snap its fibre glass constuction. How typical of me, so I bodged it up and went out to see what the festical was about.

Porlock is quite a small town. The high street was festooned with bunting and the streets were busy with locals and tourists. I walked up the road and found a pub. A few minutes later the street procession started, I remember penguins, a salsa band and the local fire brigade. It was great fun and a great end the first day. I went of to sort out my dinner of pasta and brocolli. At least my stove was working fine, a very nice trangia stove and the little radio I brought with me played out the sweet tones of radio five live and 6-0-6. After tea I stilll felt in need of more beer and went to the other pub in town and got involved in the local pool mafia. I also managed to break my flip flops. Gadzooks on a practical level the walk hadn’t started well and yet I sat in the pub with an inner glow and a feeling that I can do this. How it was to change the next day.

Day Two

Sunday September 2 2007

Porlock to Countisbury

In my little black of the walk which I lost in Portland Bill I remember writing at the start of this days entry HARD, HARD HARD. Compared to today yesterday was a walk in the park and should have been grateful that it was quite a mellow introduction to proceedings.

The intention at the start of the walk today was to get to Lynton but this was a harsh introduction to the extremes in weather conditions. One of the main differences between training around deepest Surrey and actually walking out on the coast path is the difference in exposure to the elements. It’s invigorating in clement conditions but any increase in wind and things start to happen, as the South West Coast Path Assocaition describe your pack in effect becomes a sail. You are out there with just your coat to protect you against any change in the weather and today it changed dramatically.

The day started out bright and sunny and I felt fairly refreshed after a decent nights sleep in my rickety tent. I packed up but it seemed to take an age. In my enthudiasm for my first nights camping I had managed to unpack everything or so it seemed I prepared a big bowl of porridge and managed to get everything back in pack and set off. I knew it was a long walk today but felt that I left a bit late. It being a Sunday the hardware store that I found was closed so I would have to bodge the tent again later.

Porlock to Porlcok Weir was flat and across a nature reserve, partly on the beach and onto the small harbour. I stopped for provisions and picked up the postcards of Porlock and Porlock Weir. Then the climbing began. A small path led up between the houses and climbed up and up into woodland. A couple and their kid approached and the man said “It’s much easier going this way.” hardy-har-har. Onwards I pressed with visions of pushing him over the cliff edge, not before I had severed his head with my pen knife. (One element of my breakdown was a deep desire to commit a murder and go to jail for the rest of my life thus absolving me of any responsibility for the future. Would have been quite nice I suppose all in all. Luckily I will never know.)

The first point of interest is the church at…books describe a self service tea stall which I must admit sounded like something out of HE Bated or some countryside idyll; and of course considering I was really hoping for a cup of tea and rest the chances of there actually being one there were zero. It wasn’t there. So after a couple of photos I carried on UP and up some more. Just beyond this the official coast path route is shut due a landslide and so you turn more up. Boy I was done in and it’s an hour or so into day two. The water is going down steadily and it seems never-ending and finally you emerge out onto farmland. Here I collapse.

Of course the path is signposted at regular intervals and quite often there are mileage points on the signs but already the signs are playing tricks with my mind man. On at least two occasions Lynton is signposted as being 7 miles away. This is too far for me today I appreciate that but when you have been walking for an hour and it’s still saying 7 miles then it gets rather demoralising. A cn of baked beans by the side of a babbling brook does little to defer the opinion I have that it’s along way. A dog walker breezily dscribes it as a ‘nice little walk that’ but I don’t believe her.

At this point the water goes but the climbs keep on coming. Not necessasarily long ones but constantly. People are passing me and appear to be skipping along whistling merrily. It’s starts to rain and none of my gear is covered. Onwards I press and all of a sudden the woodland gives way to proper costal path walking. Instead of feling invigorated by this I collapse again chomping on nuts in the hope that food will help get over the dehydration. Not likely as the wind and rain begin to increase. Lynton is out of the question but I remember Paddy Dillon mentioning a pub before. If only I can get there and and have a lime and soda I should be ok. There is no to stop and enjoy the view as it’s now heads down.

I remember Chelsea against Aston Villa being on the radio that day. I also remember constantly checking the books to see how far I had come. It takes a while to get used judging distance. A sort of desperation sets in knowing that you must keep on walking but you are more or less incapable of movement. Eventually with only Foreland Point to climb and I am home and dry it seems my inner resolve is out of here. I sit on the side of the hill, with only wind and rain for company. Even Villa scoring (they go onto win 2-0 fact fans) can’t get me moving. But darkness is coming and there I am up on my feet the last half a mile or so. I see a church but where is the pub. Have a passed it? There is somke from a chimney, a house underneath the chimney it must be, it is the pub.

Bedraggled I stumble in down two orange and lemonades and book a room for the night. Budgetry concerns are not applicable here. As far as I am concerned it’s all over, no more walking needs to be done. My parents are still in the area I am phoning them and they can come and get me and rescue me from this sillyness. The bath beckons me to sleep. I destroy some fish n chips watch a play about a camping trip that goes wrong and settle down to sleep.

Day 3

Monday 3 September 2007

Countisbury to Lynton

In the morning the wind and rain of the day and night that lashed against my windows had gone and been replaced by bright sunshine and just a fresher wind. I got myself together and went down to breakfast. Two couples and their dogs greeted me and sat down noticing that there was one more space to be filled in the restaurant. I got into my bacon n ting and around the corner came none other than Ruth whom I had met just outside Minehead. Our experiences of the day before matched up completely only she had been about an hour or so behind me and got caught out and put in a much worse position than me. As I travelled around the path it became harder and harder sometimes to rely on getting a bed without booking and it was extremely lucky that this pub had both been open and had accomodation.

We talked of re-writing the guide book to include descriptions of places as a point where you want to die or go home or phone a friend or whatever. Neither of us expected it to be so difficult and demanding something I suppose we should have realised. Really the only preparation you can do for a walk of this scale is to come down to the path and practise. I told ruth of my need to give up but she ws having none of it. But a rest day it was just as long as we could make it to Lynton and Lynmouth.

We walked down the road into Lynton together and split up ageeing to meet on the harbour again at about six. I got the railway up the hill, had a coke and a flapjack and made tracks for the campsite which just happened to be on the outskirts of town via a nice steep hill. However the campsite tuned to be very cool, near to a river and lots of trees. I managed to bodge my tent once again had some more eats and headed of into town to get some provisions and stuff. Rested in my tent for the afternoon and went down to meet Ruth.

What I love about travelling around is people you can meet. We went in the pub and had to share a table with a couple. I think it’s te fact that you’ve spent most the day in your own that makes you more receptive to striking up a conversation with strangers. We had a great chat about their life in Canada and why they had settled ther and so on. We were brought a round and all that. Great stuff. We decided to call it a day and both went our separate eays to bed, myself via the chippy and the pub for one more pint. I would have had more but tomorrow threatened more pain of the highest quality.

Day 4

Tuesday 4 September 2007

Lynton/Lynmouth to Combe Martin

Up early to try nd get out earlier than the other day and it worked. The only thing to manage this time was the heavy heavy dew on the ground. A cloudless sky had seen to that. Porridge and malt loaf on board and kit packed away I set off with more water making the pack super heavy weight class. I wasn’t going through the same experience as from Porlock to Lymouth. The trek from the campsite to rejoining the walk warmed me up and I was ready for the challenge.

Initially the path was flat but also right bang up against a hefty drop into the sea. The light was fantastic and the cliffs was rugged with outcrops everywhere. This was the path leading to the Valley of the Rocksd and so access was easy. But what was that, oh yeh some goats. Well horned beasts just lying on the path. Seemed to all at peace with the walker scene but as I approached they made their excuses and picked a pth through the boulders to safety. The Valley provided some amazing formations and I headed down through taking it all in.

My doctor had spoken about an estate he was part of. When I got back I found out it was this chritian retreat that I passed soon after the Valley of the Rocks and just before Lee Bay. Looked quite calming place. Just beyond I cam across a sign saying “On this spot on the 1 April 1870 nothing happened.” I think the date is right but seeing as I lost my camera I guess we’ll all have to take my word for it. The cows lazing around nearby seemed to be taking the advice of the sign and making sure nothing happened today either. But having said that I was just moving up to see if the tea shop spoken of was open when several cows cme trotting up behind me, some were surprised by my presence and jolted from one side of the road to another. Funny.

Tea Shop was shut natch. Then it was into the first of the days climbs as the path let the road to skirt around Woody Bay. The ziq zag up through the woods was demanding. But to be honest that was just a warm for the two climbs that were coming up. The first was Heddons Mouth. The climb down was bad enough, lots of shingle and gravel and but the anticipation of the climb up the other side gave it a backdrop of slight fear. Theere was however the chance of a diversion of the Hunters Inn pub a mile off the track. It’s difficult to strike a balance between the benefits of going off to get refreshments but weighing that yp against the extra distance I would travel however when I had the orange and lemonade and ready salted crisps in hand then it was all worth it.

The thing was the weather had turned out much for the better. It was hot and sunny and for as a sweat monster I was getting through the water pronto. So I knew in the long run a trip off to the boozer was for the best. In the end there’s nothing for it but to carry on and face the music. The pack seemed to get heavier and as I approached the climb I took a deep breath. I’m not sure of the length of the cimb but it was case of making 10 maybe 20 steps and waiting wilst my heart and lungs stopped burning up. A never ending story of pain. Iooked across the valley and saw people coming down the hill and thought well at least I’ve done that.

At the top the flat seems momentarily strange almost unreal. But the chance to get your breath back and look back is a good one to take. I rest and take in the stunning views back across Heddon’s Mouth. The couple from Tasmania suddenly appear. I knew they would after my day off in Lynton. I couldn’t help but compare their pack to mine, I mean jealously doesn’t come into it does it. Anyhow we had a brief exchange of experiences and off they skipped. They said that I would see them again as they intended to take a lunch break shortly; but I didn’t see them again. A shame as I would have liked to see them.

The rest of the day’s walk was all about the Great Hangman. Luckily between the top of Heddon’s Mouth and there was a fairly flat piece of track so energy could sort of be conserved in preparation. It began to loom larger and larger and finally the journey down into the valley began and it became muddy as resiue of rainfall was left behind from last nghts downpour and existing streams. The climb up was awful, again rest after rest was needed as the last of the days sun beat down. Despite being September the day had been very hot. Small steps and small gains it felt like as the climb went on and on. The path gave way to a grass path and turnbed sharp left up by a wall. People in the distance signified the end of it. At the top there is a pile of rocks and stones and wooden pole. This reminded me of the walking I’d done in South Korea don’t you know where a similar signifier was used. I rested a fiar bit and after chatting to a few people who’d come the other was I contined on. The Great Hangamn had been conquered.

During the first few days and weeks at the end of a particularly arduous part I would turn around and flick the v’s at the what I had just done. I also began to blame anything especially nature for the steepness of the climbs, if that’s possible.

The walk down to Combe Martin was genrally downhill vis Little hangman. I still had some water left as well so my extra rations worked out well. Pat on the back for me. I stopped in the Focsle pub and had my usual orange and lemonade and ready salted crisps. I was completely knackered it had been a very tough day and had taken 10 hours to walk 13 miles. I had an idea from the association guide book that it should hav taken less time that that, but it soon was clear that most of the days walking took longer than there recommendations.

Via the local shop I went off to the local campsite which joy of joys was up nother steep hill. But it was a very good site. Lots of space as hardly anybody was there. But I just couldn’t set the tent up today. It was getting dusk and damp and everything was getting wet. The blasted thing would not go up, I know it was broken but still. I was getting annoyed. Then I got an invite to dinner as you do by a couple up the site. They were German and had gone on a tour of Britain via Scotland, Liverpool and down to Devon. Funnily enough they were then going to Brighton. They had fish, potatoes and Strongbow. On a map I showed him where all the record shops were.A good end to a tiring day.

Except that the tent was hangin by and thread. It was cold and pools of water had formed inside the tent. I climbed, didn’t get undressed and struggled to get some sleep. Grim on.

Day 5

Wednesday 5 September 2007

Combe Martin to Ilfracombe

The intial shock of the walk was tempered by the knowledge that this was a shorter days walk and less demanding on the old feet. Forced awake by the damp I started packing early, ate bacon and beans by the shower block and spoke to Ruth who ahd turned up the campsite and made tracks. It was a grey overcast day but I was quite good spirits knowing that I would be in Ilfracombe soon.

Even so the path wasn’t that well marked in one place and I went wrong briefly but after one tea stop I was in Ilfracombe by 12.30ish. The view from the top of Hillsborough (indeed) showed the town embedded in the coast. I had been there as a child I seemed to remember these huge granite rocks everywhere. That wasn’t the case. Though it certainly snaked it’s way according the geography. The harbour was still fully working and there were signs to beware the movement that goes with that. I walked round the harbour and turned up towards the town centre and there was a backpackers. Flashes of my trip of New Zealand came back and I had to go in find out the price. After the sleep I had the night before I needed a bed today. As I checked in I had the room to myself so I had a shower and a lie down.

As I had returned briefly to civilisation my mission today was to try and replace or mend my tent. My first thought was to try and buy a replacement pole. The camping shop I found had nothing but I was told of a caravan and camping shop out of town which I should investigate. I got a bus out there but to no avail but anyway it was interseting to see the outskirts of Ilfracombe. I headed back into town and committed myself to a new tent from the shop. Nothing else to do really, but 25 pounds down this was turning into an expensive day. I stocked up on some provisions and went back to hostel to eat.

It was interesting that the hostel was full of Poles. They seemed to be on their last day at the hostel and I was summoned to take a group photograph. Cetainly the woman who checked me in was returning home. She said it was her second year in Ilfracombe. It is strange to think of a bunch of Poles ending up in Ilfracombe, of all the places in tn country. Still there you go. Profoundity profundity.

I was back in the dorm and the door and these two lads came in. They had been climbing on lundy looking pretty battered. It sounded fascinating and made me want to go over there for a while. From their description it made more sense to go over there for a few days not as a day tripper. Apparently the campsite is excellent and so that’s one for list of places to go. So we get chatting and I offer them to go out for a drink. We go to the oldest pub in Ilfracombe dating from the 14^th century. Weirdly they both had top clothes with them to go out, one of them had full mod outfit on ith parka and all. I felt very underdressed in my fleece and walking boots. It was a good evening and the had beers back in the dorm. But by the time we had got back I thkn we were all knackered and soon were all asleep. I’ve kept in touch with Tom via the dreaded face book so that’s good. Good luck to them at all time.

Day 6

Thursday 6 September 2007

Ilfracombe to Croyde Bay

I left the two climbers asleep and managed to leave the backpackers by nine. It was a bright beautiful day but of course there was a longer stage ahead today as I had truncated yesterdays. I had arranged to meet ruth in croyde bay but I had a feeling she may go on futher as she reached Mortehoe yesterday.

To reach the top of the cliff there was a steep ziz zagging climb out of Ilfracombe. This of course was something to get used to as at the end of the days walk the path would generally drop down into the harbour. But not today as the walk would enter Bideford Bay and after the turn at Morte Point the walk would become flatish until Westward Ho! A slog but flat. For now though my first port of call was Lee Bay. The second one of the walk and only x miles in. There was a hotel there and I tried to get a cup of tea to no avail, so nuts and water sufficed.

While I was a there a bus turned and it’s worth making the point that even though obviously not particularly regular it was possible to get to more or less everywhere eventually. Someone from the South West reading this would probably disagree but for the purposes of this writer it appeared that way. I remember telling one Bed and Breakfast onwer that we didn’t have a Sunday service to get to our county town and she was surprised. She said she could understand where she lived, Porthallow, but not in Surrey.

A few valleys, humps, bumps and Bull Point lighthouse and I made it Morte Point and the first turn south. This was a significant point for me. I felt just 7 days in I was doing ok but knew that I was slightly behind schedule. I remember coming here with my brother and listening to the Saturday afternoon football as well and The views back east and south looking towards Woolacombe Bay were stunning in the bright sunlight and cracked open a bag of Bombay Mix to celebrate. Yummy! The formation of the rocks were amazing and endlessly fascinating and the current that was swirling around gave a hint of the trouble this area would probably have caused for passing ships. I spent some time taking it in and still slightly amazed that I had actually got this far pressed onto Woolacombe

Here the anticipation of reaching this stunning beach inspired to press on. The path had been busy since Mortehoe and here it became busier still. I met a couple of older gents who were walking to other way to Minehead. I was really enjoying this part of the walk, meeting people and getting advice about various parts of the walk. I wished them all the best and took the short rest of the path to Woolacombe.

Due to the sun, I mean amazingly lucky with the weather it could have been a nit cooler, I was looking forward to a nice cold orange and lemonade. I was struggling a bit as I made it into town. I got some money from the post office and found a slightly trendy restaurant for my drink. I was well scruffy for it and the pack was a dangerous weaon in here with all the fancy glasses and all. I had some chips too! I felt this wasn’t enough and thought I would have some chocolate cake and tea at another café. Knowing the trudge I had along Woolacombe Bay coming up I thought this would be a good idea.

It was certainly a nice cake but due to th weather and the effort taken to get along the beach I started to feel slightly weary. It was a case of one foot after another and just try to keep going. I would occasionally have to stop and put my hands on my knees to take the strain of the pack off my back. I must have looked a sorry state to everyone that I passed. I looked longingly at people sitting around, maybe splashing about in the sea. Whereas I was suffering you understand. But who knows where the distance goes and the café and shop at the other of the beach slowly came closer and closer and I felt pleased that I had reserves of energy and fitness to make it.

A swim I thought would do me good. The pack fell to the ground with a thud and I changed into my swimming gear. Little did I know this was to be my only swim on the walk. It felt amazing and as I floated around resting my aching legs I looked back at the coast. it gave a sense of perspective as I looked back towards Morte Point and took in what I done. It was always satisfying to look back at what I had walked in the last hour, few hours or day and know that gradually despite everything I was gradually getting nearer my goal, which today was Croyde Bay.

I was completely knackered and I got out of the sea and crashed out for while. I love to lie there with my eyes closed and listen to the sounds of the 360 degree spectrum. Sounds go from lest to right, front to back. It gives a different perspective on where you are. The laughter of young children. The voices of parents telling children off. People designing sandcastles. The crashing of the waves The thwack of tennis ball in cricket bat. Dogs barking. The birdlife. The wind even. It ives a great aural imprint of where you are. I like to do it all the time and by simply listening you are more in the moment. I think I fell asleep for a while but again the call of the walk made me get up and pack and up.

I walked up to the café first and had a coke and more crisps. I still felt done in, I think dehydrated again, found a tap and drank a load of water and pressed on for the walk around Bagg Point. The two gents I met earlier said that they had walked across Baggy Point and not around it and suggested that I do the same. Well I must say it was very tempting given my physical state but I knew that my sponsors would would like to know that I had completed the whole walk and besides I suppose I wanted to walk around it. It seemed to bee about 3 miles to Croyde Bay which in the scheme of things wasn’t so bad. Over the course of the walk distances became ranked not only in terms of their literal physical distance but also the psychological impact it had. Witness the signs on my way to Lynton. 3 miles I knew was going to tak roughly an hour, maybe an hour and a half which was manageable on both fronts. Luckily.

The views back along Woolacombe Bay were immense. As I walked out the end of Baggy point I kept looking back in awe. There was also every chance of a great sunset. A couple of walkers said they had seen me walking along Woolacombe Beach and how sorry they felt for me. As I say I knew I must have looked a real state. It was funny and gives you a sense of yourself outside of the self. The end of Baggy Pont reached I now could see the destination of todays walk Croyde Bay. I had come down here fairly recently for a friends Stag/Hen do so I knoew it quite well. Again the struggle of the day was getting too me and it was nearly a 9 hour day in the field.

On entering Croyde the first campsite I came to wanted to charge 16 pounds for a pitch. I left in a huff. The only option was carry on walking into town, but across the beach. Slog on passed kids relaxing with a few beers, if only. The sand seemed like well sand really very difficult at the end of the day. I didn’t know where the campsites were but know roughly were the house was where we had stayed so I headed up there to find the nearest campsite.Luckily they were only charging 8 quid which was still quite a lot and as Ruth said if this carried on then camping woulldn’t be the cost saver that it could have been. Anyway I found pitch next door to Ruth but she wasn’t there as yet but I could see her walking up the road. She helped me put my new tent up and then we went down for fish and chips and to the pub for a few jars. Most nice. There was a beautiful sunset as well.