Around Britain

I stayed in the same hotel as before in Newquay last night. The price had gone up 50% in the short period since my last visit in late July. It's understandable that prices do react to the level of demand, probably at its highest in August. The three course evening meal was very good for the price of £20.

There's a summertime ferry over the River Gannel which runs along the south west side of Newquay. To get to it I walked west towards Pentire, a peninsula ending at Pentire Point East. Pentire seemed to be a hive of intensive construction work. I had to pick my way along the main street between vehicles serving this industry. When that street came to a dead end I followed a sign to the ferry. There was a cafe placed above a steeply descending flight of steps. Each step was a flagstone. There were handrails all the way down to a shed at the bottom. Out of the shed tickets were sold for the ferry at £1.50 per adult. I didn't need a ticket as the tide was out which meant that I could cross the main and only stream on a footbridge. The water was brackish and I couldn't detect any flow. However the rope which served as a handrail was wet so high tide did cover the bridge.

On the far side of the bridge an army of holidaymakers had gathered on the exposed river bed, spilling onto Crantock Beach. It was a spectacular and colourful sight. Groups had put up wind breaks despite the lack of wind. I realised that this was to mark that group's territory. I walked into the lower of the two car parks which had loos and volunteers directing the cars. I climbed up a road which went past the upper car park. The tide of people descending towards the beach suggested that additional cars had been parked further away. I passed hundreds and no one was walking in my direction.

At the centre of Crantock I sat on a seat in a covered bus shelter to eat an orange and get my bearings. A number of roads converged here and I took local advice on the road to Cubert. Before proceeding I called in at the local shop to buy cold chocolate milk. In heat like this I've developed a craving for flavoured milk from a fridge. I'm carrying four small bottles of water and keep myself hydrated but water doesn't give the same satisfaction.

At Cubert a modest house sported a plaque announcing that it had once been a chapel and that Wesley had preached there in the 18th century. I wondered what words he'd used to gain the following that he did. It wasn't easy to access his sermons on the internet but I did find a short collection of quotes. In one of these, set out below, the references to God will not be to everyone's taste, but the fundamental point that Wesley makes is as pertinent today as it always was:-

“Condemn no man for not thinking as you think. Let every man use his own judgement, since every man must give an account of himself to God. Abhor every approach, in any kind of degree, to the spirit of persecution. If you cannot reason or persuade a man into the truth, never attempt to force a man into it. If love will not compel him to come, leave him to God, the judge of all.”

The next stretch of back road took me through Trebellan, where I passed a successful looking pub called the Smugglers' Arms, and Mount. Both fell into the category of places that were marked on the map but weren't noticeable when you walked through them. I reached the B3285. This looked busy so I was glad to find a footpath on the edge of a golf course that took me into Perranporth (meaning the cove or harbour of (the parish of) St Piran). I stopped at a garage for a frappacino (iced milky coffee). The cashier asked whether I had fuel to pay for. When I said I was walking she exclaimed delightedly that the drink was my fuel. How right she was!

I left Perranporth on a road that followed the route of a dismantled railway through Perrancombe. Every so often I could hear the sound of aircraft coming from Perranporth Airfield on the coast. As I left the town behind me there were still houses on both sides of the road. Trees gave me shelter from the sun. It was a relief to be walking in the shade for most of the way until I had to rejoin the B3285 near Blowinghouse. I decided to keep to that road through Barkla Shop until I reached St. Agnes. Initially there were only cafes, restaurants and pubs in the town but, at the top of a steep climb, I found several shops. I was able to buy a tin of cold coffee near the church before leaving on the road to Higher Bal. Soon after turning south I passed St Agnes Beacon where a fire had been lit in 1588 to warn of the approach of the Spanish Armada.

A pleasant interlude on a quiet road came to an abrupt end on a busier road that I joined near Victory Inn. This led to Porthtowan which had a crowded beach. The road onwards to Redruth was busier than I wanted so I diverged onto a road coloured white on the map. This turned out to be a road with no unauthorised access leading to a farm. Although the road beyond the farm gave me a convenient entry point to Redruth, I decided not to risk angry farmers and unrestrained dogs so turned back.

When I did reach Redruth there was an Aldi on the edge. I chose a litre bottle of a smoothie made of liquified fruit out of a fridge. A long queue of those buying four items or less didn't deter me. Halfway through this superb drink I was interrupted by a call from the receptionist at my hotel. She said reception was closing so would I pay over the phone. She didn't explain what happened to me if reception did close so I refused to pay until I reached the hotel. I explained that I'd walked from Newquay but I was now probably 20 minutes away. She said that I should have taken a bus. When I reached the hotel I found the receptionist to be entirely unwelcoming. I told her that I didn't know that reception was closing early and her response was that I should have checked the website. Studying hotel websites is not how I choose to spend my time. She took my payment and handed me my key with ill grace. I did notice another guest checking in just before me but clearly I was the one responsible for keeping her working for longer than her allotted time.

Today's mileage 20; total 3511.35

I made a leisurely start, leaving my hotel about 10 a.m. There was not a cloud in the sky to give hope of an end to this unrelenting heat.

Mining has been an important industry in Cornwall for many centuries. In the 19th century the area around Redruth and Camborne produced two thirds of the world's copper. In the 20th century cheaper sources were found so local mining declined. South Crofty is a famous old mine situated in the village of Pool between Redruth and Camborne. By the mid-seventeenth century this mine was active. Originally it produced cooper but, when this was exhausted, the mine went deeper to extract tin. The mine closed in 1998 but there are now prospects of it re-opening.

As my hotel was located just out of town, I headed for Redruth's centre, picking up a paper at the giant Tesco's on the way. No cafe appealed to me so I sat in the comfortable waiting area at Redruth railway station. The booking clerk dealt efficiently with all the multiple problems that afflict rail travellers. Confronted with bookings, changed bookings, lost tickets, train cancellations, information enquiries, she dealt with them all cheerfully and efficiently. What a pity that the industry is being so badly damaged by the inability of management and unions to reach agreement. It is one example of how inflation damages society. Inability to cope with change is another crippling factor.

Eventually I had to move so I proceeded westwards on a minor road in the direction of Camborne crossing the A3047. At a garage on this road I picked up an iced coffee. I crossed over the A30 on a bridge and reached open country via South Tehidy. From now until Coombe I had good tree cover on both sides of the road. I passed a major camping site on a farm well away from any towns. It's a very popular and economical way to take a holiday. Presumably the farmers who set up these sites must provide basic facilities like toilets, showers and hook ups for electrical equipment. In remoter locations they'd also need to provide a shop.

The road after Coombe was quiet but I dreaded the B3301 ahead so I took a detour on a minor road which provided access to Carlean Farm. It was well over a mile and only one car passed me all the way. Then I had to join the B road which took me to Towans near the seashore. To escape the road I tried to follow the Coast Path in an area of dunes. I'd crossed the Red River so named because mining waste used to discolour it. As was the case with many streams that I'd seen in the last couple of days, there was a light flow of water which, given the drought, surprised me. The acorn signs confirmed that I'd joined the Coast Path but there were numerous paths and no more acorns. The path that had looked most likely took me back to the road at Gwithian. I needed a break to take a drink and study the map so I entered the churchyard and rested there for a while.

The way forward to Hayle lay on the B3301 but I found a well used footpath which offered relief from the traffic for a while. As I neared Hayle a pavement appeared no doubt to serve all the housing next to the road. At a major junction near the A30 I bought a large bottle of smoothie at Lidl and downed the lot sitting on a chair by the supermarket exit. Hayle was stretched out along the B3301 and I had another 1.3 miles before reaching my hotel in the foundry district of the town near its railway station.

Mileage today 12.5; total 3523.85.

My hotel was near the River Hayle. The river widens to become a lake providing a haven for birds. The B3310 circles this expanse of water as does the railway serving Lelant, Carbis Bay and St. Ives. The road joins the A3074 which ends in St. Ives. At Lelant I escaped the main road for a while, passing a church, a cemetery and a golf course. Once back on the main road I entered a built up area which continued without a break until St. Ives.

I stopped at a Tesco for a bottle of chocolate flavoured milk. As I sat on a bench outside the store I was joined by an elderly woman. She was slumped forward, almost bent double, as if life, or perhaps just the heat, troubled her deeply. Should I ask if she's OK? If she wasn't what could I say or do to help? As I pondered she produced a book of sudokus and proceeded to work on one of the puzzles.

I missed the station and climbed into the upper reaches of St. Ives before being directed back into the town centre. Tourists thronged the streets above a crowded beach. With local help I reached the station.

My ticket for the return journey had only given me six minutes to change trains at Plymouth. I'd arrived early at the St. Ives station with the idea of catching an earlier train to ensure that I made the connection at Plymouth. I was assured by staff at both St. Ives and St. Erth that my ticket was valid for the journey to Plymouth even though I'd be on trains earlier than those specified. However, my ticket for the journey onwards from Plymouth was valid only for the specified train. It was certainly my intention to catch that train. Unhappily there was a points problem just before Plymouth which held up the train I'd taken from St. Erth. When I arrived at Plymouth my London train had already left. The points problem had not been resolved. Plymouth station has eight platforms but Platform 4 was the only one that was operational. The next London train was listed for the unusable Platform 7 which didn't inspire confidence. At the last minute it was announced that the London train was coming into Platform 4. There was a surge of humanity down the stairs to an underpass. Much to my surprise I got a seat and all was well.

Mileage today 4.69; total 3528.54.

At breakfast in my hotel a large and self-important man announced that any cooked food would be plated. To many of us a plate is the minimum requirement when contemplating a cooked breakfast. For a moment I was baffled. How was I to react? Then it occurred to me that breakfast was not to be self-service. We had to order our breakfast and it would then be brought to us on a plate.

Yesterday the train from London Paddington (with one change at St. Erth) had delivered me to St. Ives by the early afternoon. I set out from my hotel to reconnoitre my route. The hordes that had choked the central streets on my last visit had been somewhat reduced by repeated heavy showers. I headed for the harbour and walked up to an old chapel on the headland. This is the fifteenth century Chapel of St Nicholas restored in 1911. Over the centuries it has been used as a Look-Out. Once a fire was maintained near the chapel to warn shipping of the hazardous coast. This was not always a success as the wreck of the SS Alba, visible at low tide, testifies. Of the Coast Path there was no sign.

Whenever I woke last night, it was to the sound of heavy rain. This cleared and I enjoyed a reasonable day. I left St. Ives on the B3306 and joined the Coast Path via a campsite near Trevalgan. A good path over National Trust land brought me to the coast near Carn Naun Point. Soon after reaching the Coast Path I passed a Trig Point.

Initially there was no one about but I was then overtaken by a lone runner who went by as I was about to cross a stream. He then surged up the hill rising above the stream and quickly disappeared. Subsequently I met several couples who mostly had started their walk from Zennor. A couple of men were doing the whole Coastal Path in stages but in the opposite direction to myself. I had pleasant conversation with many of the people I met. Beyond Wicca Pool I had to cross a boulder field. The path disappeared but I could see its continuation on the far side of the stones. It was an awkward obstacle and slowed my progress but not unduly difficult.

As I approached Zennor Head it became comparatively crowded. There was an easy path from the village of Zennor over National Trust land with a spectacular view down to Pendour Cove where the water was bright blue. As I approached Zennor the Coast Path turned off at a sign to Pendeen 7 miles away. I went on into Zennor where many cars were parked. A pub and a cafe were doing good trade. There was even a Gift Shop. I enjoyed an iced Latte in the cafe and then walked up to the B3306. It wasn't too busy and numerous bends slowed down the traffic. My destination was St. Just and a sign told me it was 8 miles away.

I passed several farms. One did a side line in hand knitted clothing. Another had a Butchery Shop and provided a wedding venue. Snatches of Farming Today on Radio 4 suggest that farmers are struggling and need to develop other businesses to survive. Just beyond Bosigran Farm I came to old tin mine buildings near Carn Galver. Nearby at Bosigran Stamps the ore was pulverised and scorched to remove detritus and achieve an acceptable level of purity. I wondered whether this work was done in the outbuildings of Bosigran Farm.

A notice at the mine alerted me to a tale involving D.H.Lawrence. In 1916 he took a cottage near Zennor with his German wife, Frieda. The locals were suspicious and the word spread that he was using lights to communicate with U-boats. There was no evidence of this but the police raided the house of a friend of the Lawrences from which a light shone. The Lawrences were inside singing German songs with their friend. The friend was charged with an infringement of the Blackout Regulations and the Lawrences were hounded from Cornwall.

At Morvah I ignored the sign to a cafe and lay beside the road eating a flapjack I'd bought yesterday in St. Ives. I reached St. Just soon after 4 o'clock having started out at 8.30. I'd booked a room at The Commercial. The Public Bar was full of customers awaiting the start of the football match between Manchester United and Arsenal. I joined them.

Later I had a Crab Linguine followed by an Affogata. I was really impressed.

Distance today 14.38; total 3542.92

Again the weather behaved itself by restricting rain to the night hours. After an excellent breakfast I stepped out into St. Just, heading towards Land's End. Initially I followed the B3306 but I turned off just before Land's End Airport. I walked alongside the airport for a while. It provides a service to the Scilly Isles but the main users are the local flying club.

I walked through Gurland Farm. There were a few cottages and the odd parked car but no sign of life, not even a barking dog. The path beyond the farm shown on the map quickly disappeared but I came upon a narrow trail. This soon declared itself, through an Acorn, to be the Coast Path. It descended to Whitesand Bay and proceeded around the top of the beach mostly through dry sand. A notice on a gate said “Keep Out. Private property.” That is unambiguous enough to deter most people but, in smaller letters, there followed the words “Adder breeding habitat.” Those still tempted to trespass might then change their minds.

I could see Sennen Cove beyond the next headland. First I had to climb up from the beach. It was steep and rocky but a metal bar alongside the path helped to steady one's progress. At the top the going was easier and I met people who might not have coped with more challenging conditions.

In Sennen Cove I shunned the temptation of a cafe. I had a fair distance to go and the late afternoon forecast was threatening. Water, hotel biscuits and the remains of a flapjack would have to suffice. There was a steep climb up steps from Sennen Cove. The wind gusted so I had to remove my cap or risk losing it. I could see an area where the Cornish flag flew (white cross on black) and buildings beyond. I reached an entrance into a controlled area with a direction as to where to buy tickets. I had thought to linger by the well known signpost showing the distance to far flung places but the commercialisation of Land's End was repelling. My wife had visited it as a youngster and texted that she remembered it as very windy and rocky. It is perhaps better to retain such a memory than experience it as it is now.

I found a sheltered spot beyond the car park to study the map and eat my biscuits. After a brief spell on the A30 pavement I turned right onto the B3315 through Trevascan. A sign indicated 11 miles to Penzance so there was no time for further dalliance with the Coast Path. I turned off the B road to pass through Trebehor (a hamlet). A sign indicated that I was approaching St. Levans but this place was not marked on my map. This was puzzling as I came across old marker stones bearing the name St. Levans suggesting it to be a place of note (or had been once). Beyond Crean a young man with his dog in the front passenger seat offered me a lift. I declined but thanked him for asking.

Shortly before St. Buryan I had to join the B3283. I was close to the village when I saw a young man with a heavy pack walking on the opposite side of the road. We just acknowledged each other and walked on but an impulse prompted me to shout at his back, asking whether he was going to Land's End. He stopped and said he was and that he'd walked from John O'Groats. I crossed the road to find out more. He'd started on 12th June and not taken the shortest route as he'd covered about a thousand miles. His father and sister had kept in touch throughout and now were waiting for him at Land's End. He'd walked the whole way without interruption although he'd taken a few rest days. He'd not been ill or injured although his legs were bleeding from brambles on an overgrown path, marked on the map, but clearly not in use. He carried a device, smaller than a phone, which carried all the O.S. Maps and showed whatever section one wanted. He demonstrated that one could move the map as one progressed with a touch of the finger. (Perhaps I should get one of these instead of relying on map photocopies.) He'd camped all the way, sometimes on campsites, sometimes in the wild. He reckoned on being at Land's End in three hours but he'd chosen a route via Sennen Cove. I told him it'd taken me two hours to get from Land's End so, at his request, I showed my route. He thought he might switch to that. I shook his hand and he told me his name was Jack. I would have talked with him for longer but felt it was unfair to delay him.

Bouyed by this encounter I took a minor road from St. Buryan through Tregadgwith. There was a brief section on the B3315 but I then took a bridle path through woods past a grand house with a folly in the garden. The path was a real backwater and I saw no one. The odd property I saw looked to be abandoned.

I rejoined the B3315 just before Newlyn. There was a long hill with intermittent pavements, narrowed by parked cars. This meant the traffic was backed up in both directions with cars taking it in turns to squeeze through the most constricted points. In Newlyn I checked Google maps and my hotel was only a few minutes away opposite the Promenade in Penzance. In the distance I could see St. Michael's Mount off the coast.

Distance today 15.47; total 3558.39.