Around Britain

Yesterday, a rail strike day, I took a coach from Victoria Coach Station to Barnstaple. I won't pretend it's as comfortable or quick as rail travel but it is cheaper. With a Senior Coach Card, the cost was £15.

Breakfast was served at 7.30 in my modest hotel on the outskirts of Barnstaple. My arrival in the breakfast room prompted no reaction from any member of the staff. I appeared at the kitchen door and told an expressionless young girl “I'm just having cereal.” My hope was that an invitation to order tea or coffee, a cooked breakfast and toast would quickly follow. Instead, my remark was taken as meaning that I wanted nothing other than cereal. Rather than correct the misunderstanding, I contented myself with orange juice, weetabix, yogurt and fruit.

Conversation with a more senior staff member revealed that the hotel was used not just by SWCP walkers but also by those undertaking Land's End to John O'Groats. Some of the latter, exhausted by Cornish hills, were already contemplating failure. One traveller had told no one of his plans. This meant that he'd never have to admit failure if he didn't make it. But wouldn't those close to him require some account of his unexplained absence of so many weeks?

I bought papers and read these over a Latte and pastry before starting out. I crossed the old bridge over the River Taw and soon found the way to Bideford, passing under the new bridge. The path was made of asphalt laid on an old railway track. It was much used by walkers, dog owners, runners and cyclists. I was taken aback by the appearance of a youngish man on four wheels with a seat on top, driven by an engine, dragging a trailer with two dogs aboard. This went past me going in the direction of Barnstaple.

Just before I spotted this vehicle I noticed that sheep on the foreshore had started to run. Then I saw an Alsatian running in the opposite direction to get behind the sheep laggards. The vehicle returned and stopped just ahead of me. Apparently the sheep were being driven off the foreshore ahead of the tide flowing in. The foreshore belonged to the Queen but the man driving the vehicle told me he had grazing rights. The Alsatian, with the two other dogs on the trailer, were there to drive the sheep to a gate giving access to a field on the opposite side of the path away from the river. I saw a colleague of the vehicle driver on the foreshore bearing a sheep on his shoulders. Was it dead or merely injured? I didn't get the chance to ask. I came up to the gate with the sheep pressed up against it. The dogs were calmly sitting down beyond the sheep. On the opposite side of the path there was another gate that led, via a third gate, into the field. Another crowd of sheep were waiting there to be released into the field. A man walking his own dog stopped briefly. He said it was an education watching the dogs manage the sheep. He commented that the foreshore was a dangerous place to walk on as it was very uneven and water snaked up through gullies across the land.

Soon afterwards I reached Fremington Quay. There was a cafe in the old station building. When the Taw silted up large ships could no longer get through to Barnstaple. The solution was to build a jetty further down stream. This was in the 1840s. The goods landed at Fremington were then taken to Barnstaple by horse drawn railway. Steam engines were just being developed then so the locals decided to use horses but invest in rails. Close to Fremington Quay I passed a Lime Kiln. These were used to burn limestone imported from Wales. The product was used as fertiliser for crops.

I then came across the site of a Stone Row discovered in the 1930s. Stone Rows date back to the Bronze Age. A series of stones with matching stones opposite formed parallel rows. The purpose is unexplained but stone rows generally are found amid other pre-historic remains. One possibility is that these were ceremonial routes to be followed during important rituals marking coming of age, death or religious festivals.

At Instow I stopped at the Glorious Oyster, a beach cafe. It had an ambitious menu and was fully licensed. I had some tomato soup with bread.

Later I passed under a high bridge over the River Torridge and crossed the old bridge into Bideford. There was a ford (hence the name) but its usage depended on the tides so a timber bridge was built in 1286. This was replaced by the current masonry arch bridge in 1474. By the 16th century Bideford was Britain's third largest port. The town spread to the eastern side of the river and this extension was called East-the-Water. Sir Walter Raleigh landed his first shipment of tobacco here. The town also did extensive trade in Newfoundland cod and Irish wool. It sent many indentured servants to the New World. This was an arrangement whereby a person contracted to work without salary for a number of years. The name indenture comes from an ancient legal practice of cutting and removing part of a document. One of the parties to the transaction keeps the section removed. By producing it and showing it to fit with the rest of the document, that party proves that he is entitled to the benefit of the contract. Indentured servants were often apprentices. The apprentice agreed to work for free for a tradesman for a fixed term to learn a trade. People would pay for transportation to the colonies by agreeing to be an indentured servant. Once the agreed term expired the debt was deemed repaid and the servant was free to go or become a paid employee of the tradesman.

There was a statue of Charles Kingsley near the riverside. I made for Northam where my hotel awaited.

Today's distance 12.98 miles. Total 3402.52.

I left my hotel without taking breakfast. I preferred to buy the papers and read them in a cafe. When I reached Northam there were no shops or cafes to be seen. I asked an elderly woman walking her dog for guidance. She altered her route despite my protestations. As she led me to a newsagent she told my that Northam's cafe had closed. I asked her how long she'd lived in the area. Not long as they'd moved to France in 2000. Her husband had been very keen to make that move despite her reluctance. They'd had many expensive lessons from a Professor but neither of them had mastered the language beyond the basic level needed for shopping and eating out. Eventually she'd insisted on returning to England. Their son and daughter lived nearby.

As I left Northam I found a path which took me away from the main road down to the River Torridge and the Coast Path. This brought me into Appledore. As I entered I saw the premises of Harland & Wolf. Appledore had been a centre for ship building. That was no longer the case so I wondered why so famous a company remained. On the waterfront I found a cafe. This offered only limited options so I had a baguette with sausages and bacon with my coffee. It wasn't really what I wanted but it was certainly calorific. In view of what happened later I was lucky to have chosen something so substantial.

On leaving Appledore I missed the Coast Path and later reached one of the entry gates for Northam Burrows Country Park. When he heard that I'd not visited the park before the attendant gave me a pamphlet entitled “Dog Walkers Code of Conduct.” I have never owned a dog and have no plans to do so. Nevertheless I studied the rules which were very strict. They had to be as the sheep and wildlife in the park needed protection. There was a reminder that it was legal to shoot dogs if it was felt that they were worrying livestock.

Nearby Westward Ho! rose up on a hillside to the south of the park. It was named after the novel by Charles Kingsley published in 1855. The development of the town began ten years later. It was intended to be a resort to meet the Victorian demand for seaside holidays. The place was full of holidaymakers. I stopped at a cafe for coffee and a cream scone. The weather had deteriorated. A cloud over the sea discharged dense rain. The dark grey colour of the cloud was matched by the rain so that the two became indistinguishable.

The path from Westward Ho! was easy at first. Then it became a series of tough climbs and descents. Heavy showers were accompanied by sudden drops in temperature. It was a relief to see the sign pointing inland to Peppercombe.

The proprietor of the Coach and Horses at Horns Cross dashed my hopes of an evening meal, saying they had no commercial kitchen. “What about breakfast?” “It's in your room already.” This consisted of a tub of dry oats, two small croissants, an alpen bar and some mandarin orange segments. “How do I get a meal?” “There's a place half a mile away.” This was down the busy A39 on a stretch without a pavement. “You could get a taxi.” My first thought was to brave the traffic but ominous storm clouds massed overhead. I'd hung up my waterproofs to dry. I could turn the oats into porridge by adding boiling water. That became my supper supplemented by a croissant and the alpen bar. The rest I saved for breakfast. It's fortunate that I rarely get hungry. My main concern was that my energy levels would plummet on this meagre diet.

Distance today: 11.25 Total: 3413.77

I set off at 8.15 in fair weather which held all day. For the first hour and forty five minutes I saw no one. Rather than retrace my steps of yesterday I took a minor road through Northway and Sloo. Then a path took me down to the Coast Path. After a while I descended a series of hair pin bends into Buck's Mills. Several well maintained cottages stood at the end of a road that stopped just short of the sea. I removed a stone from my shoe. It was about 9.30 and there was no one to be seen. Nor was there a sound. No dog barked at my footfall. A sports car drove into the village, turned round and drove off again. I don't believe the driver even left the vehicle. A sign indicated Clovelly to be four and a half miles away. I climbed upwards again. Shortly afterwards a small branch fell onto the path a few yards ahead of me. It wouldn't have killed me but might have caused some damage. Is my luck wearing thin?

A sign above Clovelly announced Minehead to be 99 miles away. I'd resolved to stop here a while to eat. I walked down the narrow cobbled street. A man sitting in front of his house greeted me. I asked whether there was a cafe serving Cornish pasties. It turned out that the man owned the New Inn opposite his house and was about to open up for the day. He did a Cornish Welly which included a steak. I thought that a bit excessive for 11 in the morning. Further down towards the harbour I came across a tea room which served Lords Tea. This was a pot of tea with a crab sandwich and a scone with cream and jam. I settled for that.

Afterwards I went down to the harbour. People were sitting outside the Lion Hotel. The tide was out so the small boats were grounded on their sides. Clovelly's cafes and shops seemed to cater for a different market than Westward Ho! which targetted the masses.

On the next section I encountered John who was camping and cooking his own food. We met at a viewing point accessible by car near to the sea overshadowed by cliffs. His pack was much heavier than mine but he made light of it. Yesterday he'd walked 26 miles from Braunton to a spot 4 miles beyond Westward Ho! He lived in Bude and was headed for Hartland Quay that night. He suggested that we continued our conversation whilst we walked. We immediately got into a steep climb mostly up steps. My mouth became very dry so I requested a water stop. The Lords Tea had revived me so I had no problem matching his pace but I didn't know how long I could do so. I told him I was staying at a pub in Hartland so would need to leave the Coast Path at Brownsham. We were about to make a precipitous descent on steps when he pointed out a sign to Brownsham that I'd missed. It was just as well that the sign came when it did as I find descent more difficult. It's a problem linked to maintaining balance. John was a keen walker and runner but hadn't heard of the Trail Running Association or the Marathon Des Sables.

I reached the Anchor Inn at 3.30. Despite the early hour I was given access to my room and later enjoyed an excellent meal of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.

Distance: 15.7 Total: 3429.47

It poured with rain as I ate my breakfast. By the time I started the rain had stopped and didn't come back. My guide book says this section of the Coast Path is the most difficult so I decided to walk on the back roads instead. The problem with this was the roads tended to go east west rather than north south and I was heading south to Bude.

I left Hartland on the B3248 and took a right fork to Philham. I went wrong here and came to Tosbery which was off course. I couldn't be sure exactly where I was on the map but passed Edstone. A sign to Elmscott enabled me to fix my position. I went through Firebeacon and headed for a path going directly south to Upcott. Unfortunately this path was very overgrown. It seemed to be so underused that I couldn't be sure I'd be able to get through. It was headed for a valley bottom so might also be flooded after the heavy rain earlier. I decided to take the road going west through Wembsworthy. Just beyond Putshole Farm there was a track going south with a notice saying “Unsuitable for Motor Vehicles.” The surface was broken up and it was steep both down and up but it saved me a lot of distance. It took me to Linton and I then continued by road via a church to Darracott where there was a pub and a pottery. I was forced to take another rough track to Gooseham Mill and then the road to Gooseham village. The road now took directly south to Shop. There was no shop at Shop but a board promised a cafe/shop which wasn't on my route although notices suggested that it would be. After Woodford there was a seemingly interminable section to Stibb. After that the road became busier and I turned off to Poughill just before Stratton.

As I entered Bude someone said 'Excuse me.' No one had spoken to me all day since breakfast. I turned round to see a woman sitting on a bench. 'Would you lend me £11?' I proceeded to my hotel.

Distance: 22.03 Total: 3435.8

I planned this trip before I became aware that it would coincide with the “Big Heat”. Beforehand the BBC broadcast ominous warnings. Some trains would be cancelled. Speeds would be reduced, rails might even buckle. No one should travel unless their journey was essential. If essential means of the utmost importance, even a matter of life and death, then I hardly qualified. Nevertheless I was on the tube at 8 o'clock travelling to Paddington Station.

At Paddington it didn't seem as busy as usual for a weekday rush hour in the holiday season. However, there seemed to be a lot of people making essential journeys. The departure board flagged at least four cancellations of trains going west. My 09.04 train (destination Newquay) popped up with “Please wait” then “Preparing”. That looked encouraging and the train did leave on time. My carriage was sparsely populated so many sensible people must have heeded the warnings.

The train reached Exeter St. Davids two minutes late. I took a cab to the Bus Station. The driver was from Tajikistan. After exchanging comments about the weather (which he didn't think extreme) we touched on politics. He hated Russia and thought all politicians were mendacious and/or corrupt. I offered examples of good politicians but any concessions he made were grudging.

There was a long wait for the Bude 13.15 bus but it duly arrived a couple of minutes late, picked up its few passengers and proceeded as normal. My accommodation was a pub in Stratton, two miles inland from Bude. It cost me £90 but hotels in Bude were far more expensive. I was the pub's only overnight guest.

I'd warned the proprietor that I needed to take breakfast very early as I wanted to make good progress before the heat became too intense. She showed me a fridge on the landing outside my room with milk and orange juice inside. Also on offer were cereal, bananas, biscuits and bread rolls flavoured with small chocolate pieces. No cooked food was available as the pub kitchen closed on Mondays. However, a food van arrived next to the pub at 5 o'clock offering burgers and curry. I went to Stratton Post Office (also the only shop) to buy fruit and yogurt. I was cautious about patronising the food van so I ate a breakfast type meal in the evening.

I woke at 04.15, had my breakfast and left the pub at 05.50. At that hour one or two dog walkers were out. A petrol station was open but not the supermarkets. I wasted some time in Bude but left it on the Coast Path. Early on I spotted what looked like a body bag just off the track ahead of me. It turned out to be a young man in a sleeping bag. The time was just after 7 o'clock and he didn't stir as I walked by. There followed a scramble up a rough path on a steep slope. This took me to an elaborate look out post on top of the cliff. By this time there were a few runners and walkers taking their exercise early, perhaps, to avoid the heat. However, a slight breeze promised to mitigate its effects.

I kept to the Coast Path with brief sessions on the minor road that ran alongside it. The Elements Hotel on the far side of the road had lost its roof and was surrounded by the steel frames used by builders to keep people off site. I asked a runner whither she knew what had happened but she had no idea.

At Widemouth Bay a wind started to blow and a band of black cloud appeared over the sea. I entered a shop to obtain a coffee, a warm croissant and a newspaper. Later I encountered a couple. The man asked me whether a signed Public Footpath was the Coast Path and I said it probably was. I was walking on the minor road to keep up my pace. When I stopped for a drink and map check I realised this was the Penhalt Cliff where the Coast Path had been erased by landslip. The couple then came up having discovered this for themselves. They were Coast Path purists (sticking to the path unless impossible) headed for Boscastle.

As I entered Crackington Haven persistent rain started. Fortunately there was a cafe where I stopped for soup and bread and a read of the paper. By the time I left the rain had stopped. Earlier there'd been a shower and several rumbles of thunder but I saw no lightening. The “Great Heat” no longer posed a threat though it persisted in East and Middle England.

After Cackington Haven I was attacked on a quiet road by horse flies. I didn't feel anything when they landed on me but I did when they punctured my skin and started sucking blood. I killed several but they still came until a slight change in the altitude or weather deterred them. On the same stretch I saw dozens of snails, large and small, out on the road. The traffic was so light that there was only a small risk of them being crushed.

Beyond Trevigue and the turning to Pengold Farm, I missed a turning onto a track which led to Beeny and kept me away from the B3263. When I realised this, it was too late to turn back so I had four miles on the B road to Boscastle. Just before reaching it I had a cream tea at a cafe within a Farm Shop. It was serving full meals and doing an excellent trade. Establishments in Boscastle were also doing well. Conditions have improved since the mid 16th Century when the antiquary John Leland described it as“a very filthy town and ill kept.” Being the only port along 20 miles of coast must have lifted its fortunes.

Just after leaving Boscastle I joined the Coast Path. Later, when I had to choose between three more miles of Coast path and escape to the road via Trevalga Church, I opted for the church. From near the church I took a little used farm track which became an invisible foot path around a field. This led me to a stile consisting of two pillars on either side with a flat vertical stone fixed between them. Leading up to this stone on both sides of the stile were two stone steps. The construction allowed passage to able bodied humans but prevented stock escaping onto the road. Once on the road I used Google Maps to find my hotel in Tintagel.

There was no TV in my hotel room, just a remote. There wasn't any soap or shower gel either. When I mentioned the TV the manager said that all the TVs had broken down. That was convenient as it saved him the trouble of moving me into another room. A girl gave me small phials containing bath gel, shampoo and conditioner. Later, after stripping for the shower, I found it impossible to extract liquid from any of the phials. I twisted and squeezed them with no result. I dressed, took the phials downstairs and complained. The girl said that this was the only soap and shower gel they had. She also said, to my astonishment, that she knew they didn't work. With volume increased a notch, I told her I'd been walking since 6 o'clock that morning and needed a shower badly. At this point the manager intervened and found me a large container of liquid soap.

The hotel menu was pizzas, burgers and fish and ships. I didn't trust their kitchen so I ate elsewhere in Tintagel.

Tintagel is associated with legends linking it to King Arthur and Merlin. What is known is that the clifftop castle on Tintagel Head is Norman. Excavations have revealed the remains of a Celtic monastery on the site. In the main street is King Arthur's Hall built in 1933. This is the headquarters of the Fellowship of the Knights of the Round Table.

Miles today 20.16; total 3455.96.

Today I made a leisurely start (more than 4 hours later than yesterday). From Tintagel I headed south through the villages of Treven, Tregatta, Treknow and Trebarwith. The prefix “tre” is common in Cornish place names. It comes from the pre-Roman British or Celtic language. It means “house, homestead, farm, hamlet.” I crossed the busy and fast B3314 to reach St. Teath where I stopped for coffee and an almond tart. It was there that I decided not to walk on any part of the B3314 even though that meant extra mileage. It's both unpleasant and dangerous to walk on roads like that. A driver might also be harmed or worse trying to avoid me.

I took a very quiet road through Treroosel and crossed the B3314 onto another minor road to Port Gaverne and Port Isaac. Port Gaverne is small with a harbour. There'a a steep climb up from there to Port Isaac. This is much larger and clearly a magnet for tourists who swarmed in some streets full of shops, pubs and restaurants. I stopped to scrutinise the map. On a small space between a grassy bank and the driveway into someone's house, a fledgling herring gull stood. It showed no concern at my presence and clearly had no idea what to do next. When I took out a biscuit it edged closer. It's sharp bill broke the crumb into numerous fragments. The bird scurried round to pick these up. No piece was too small for its attention. A group of people climbed the hill towards us with their dog on a lead. The dog reared up, straining to reach the bird. The bird shrank back but made no attempt to escape. The dog was pulled away and we continued as before. I found it easier to empathise with this bird than I did with those people who conducted the most inane conversations with their lapdogs.

Earlier on the road to Port Isaac the efforts of a sheep to drink water from a tank just too high for it had caught my attention. The animal was able to raise itself on its hind legs and lean up against the side of the tank. It found it more difficult to get its head above the water to drink. At one point it was resting its chin on the rim of the tank and straining to get enough of its head over the edge to turn down to the water level. The tank was almost full but, despite being desperate to slake its thirst, the sheep could do little more than flap its tongue at the water to capture the odd drop or two.

The climb out of Port Isaac on a minor road was very steep. Beyond the top I encountered a woman with two young daughters. She was wielding a phone and no doubt using Google Maps but couldn't decide on the road to Port Isaac. I had the satisfaction of instructing her with total confidence on the route she should take.

At St Endellion I crossed the B3314 and headed south to Chaple Amble. There was no road direct from there to Wadebridge but I took the road to Three Holes Cross on the A39. Just before the main road I turned up a road with no traffic at all to Tregorden. This was a farm and my map showed a track from there straight into town. Unfortunately this track had been completely obliterated leaving no trace. I decided not to set off over farmland without any semblance of a route to follow. I continued until I reached the dreaded B3314. I dodged traffic until I reached the sanctuary of a pavement which took me into Wadebridge and my hotel.

Miles today 16.64; total 3472.6

Last night the Wadebridge Premier Inn served a decent meal and provided me with a huge bag of ice for my right foot which had been troubling me a bit. The ice seemed to help as I didn't have a problem today.

I crossed the old bridge and entered a pedestrianised shopping street where I picked up newspapers.

There's an asphalt road with no motorised traffic allowed which runs beside the river Camel for over 5 miles connecting Wadebridge with Padstow. Walking on this was an excellent way to start today's journey. There were walkers near the towns at both ends and numerous cyclists. With 3 miles to go to Padstow I came across a mobile cafe so I stopped there for coffee and cake. I could see Padstow downstream. Some cyclists stopped too. Many of them had an attachment to their bikes which I'd assumed was to carry young children. In fact most of them were for dogs. I thought that dogs were more than capable of keeping up with leisure cyclists but these animals were pampered.

On the outskirts of Padstow I started looking for Saints Way which runs alongside Little Petherick Creek. According to Brewer's Britain & Ireland this is a 30 mile walker's path linking Padstow in north Cornwall to Fowey in south Cornwall. It follows a Bronze Age trade route which was a safer alternative to sailing round Land's End. Later it was used by Irish and Welsh missionaries during the Dark Ages. I asked a local woman to direct me to Saints Way but all she could do was to suggest that I ask at the reception desk of a campsite nearby. Then I saw a finger post pointing to Saints Way marked with the cross symbol. The post was listing so I couldn't be sure it was pointing in the right direction. I took the most likely looking track which turned out to be correct.

Saints Way took me over 2 miles to Tregonna. The signs were adequate and the direction mostly obvious. It was a superb walk initially with views back to Padstow and its tall monument. This commemorated Queen Victoria's Jubilee to mark the 50th year of her reign in 1887. That also happens to be the year that my maternal grandfather was born. He was the eldest son of a Somerset farmer but became a Solicitor. Despite the excellence of Saints Way I saw no one using it all the way from Padstow to Tregonna.

At Tregonna I endured an unpleasant uphill stretch on the A389. It took me to a little used road beginning at Highlanes. The weather was sunny but not particularly hot and I made good progress, soon joining a cycle route heading south. I passed a large wind turbine site. As I climbed a hill close to St Mawgan, a cyclist stopped beside me. He told me of his encounter with a German couple searching for a prehistoric standing stone or menhir. The couple were certain it was 700 metres from where they stood but sought local knowledge as to its precise location. My informant only knew of such a stone at Rumford which was further away. I'd passed through Rumford a short time before. The man was an engaging conversationalist.

At St Mawgan I became aware of Newquay Airport. I shunned two cafes in the village as I was keen to finish. On the climb out of St Mawgan I saw planes that had just taken off gaining height as they turned towards their intended direction. I reached a minor road which ran alongside the airport. The traffic was too busy for comfort and no provision had been made for walkers. I turned onto the B3276 heading for Watergate Bay. This had a large sandy beach and had become a magnet for holidaymakers. In a confined space hundreds of cars were parked, and there were hotels and cafes. Many of the young carried surf boards.

I found a Coast Path marker and I was able to keep to the path for the rest of the day's walk. It strayed close to the high cliff tops. Once I left Watergate Bay I saw no one until I reached Porth which had merged into Newquay. This was major resort territory. After checking in at my hotel on the sea front I walked in the town. The place bubbled with activity. The establishments along the main road were hotels, bars, cafes, restaurants, takeaways, pubs, amusement arcades, tattoo parlours, tanning studios, casinos, book makers and estate agents.

Miles today 18.75; total 3491.35.