Around Britain

Today was between two strike days on the railways so I thought they'd be unreliable. Instead I took a National Express bus from London Victoria Coach Station to Plymouth. With one stop on the way, when the passengers had about 20 minutes to wander around a motorway service station, it took six hours. After Plymouth the coach went on to Penzance. It was quite crowded but, fortunately, the seat beside me was empty.

After leaving my rucksack at the hotel, I started walking to the Torpoint ferry. Google Maps indicated I wasn't making much progress so I asked a bus driver which bus I should take. He took me to a stop and told which bus I wanted. That bus carried me to the ferry embarkation point. From there I walked back to my hotel along the A374.

Today 1.88; total 3659.43.

The weather lived up to the dire forecast. This was the day it rained forever.

I walked through the Barbican district and crossed the bridge over River Plym which was very wide at that point. On the far side a wide asphalt path set above the A379 was perfect for fast walking. Eventually I had to descend to a footpath beside the road which went to Kingsbridge. I aimed to leave the A379 on a minor road to Sherford Country Park. This I did but I then came upon a substantial new town. Every road I took led to a construction site where the road itself was also under construction. None of this was shown on the O.S. Map that I'd only just bought. I retreated to the A379, retraced my steps back down that road and took the previous road heading north east. In no time at all the pavement stopped. The road proved to be very busy and it was too dangerous to walk on any further. However, there was a right turn onto a new road leading to Sherford (the new town). In desperation I took that. This new road was wide and quiet and I was able to walk along the bus lane. I soon arrived onto the main street of Sherford. Many of the houses and flats were already occupied but there very few people about. A section had been designated for a General Store, a coffee shop and one other business but the buildings to house these had not yet been started. I couldn't see that any other services were yet available unless one wanted to buy a property. The three main building companies had prominent offices on the main street. Work on the unfinished buildings had been suspended. This might have been due to the rain rather than the recent increase in mortgage interest rates.

On the far side of the town I found that a footpath had been constructed alongside the main road which led to the A38, a major artery of the West Country. There were roads off but none of these went anywhere near Modbury, my destination for that night. I crossed the A38 and found a minor road on the far side leading to Ivybridge in five miles. On this road I came upon an old mile stone. On one side it said “To Plymouth 6 miles.” On the other it said “From Plymouth 6 miles.” Why take that trouble to repeat the same information when they might have given the distance to, for example, Ivybridge? At the first opportunity I crossed back over the A38 to take a minor road eastwards. At a junction I turned towards Yealmpton wondering how that place was pronounced. My map was getting wet so I used it sparingly. I looked for a left turn to Ermington but it never came. Instead I turned towards Yeo Park which was in the right direction. I was looking for a road up in the hills parallel to the A379 but, just beyond Yeo Park, I was back on that busy road. The map indicated a footpath leading to the road I wanted. Unfortunately the footpath was not in use and disappeared in a wood forcing my retreat to the main road. I walked along it a short way to find a road into the hills which I took. After a long climb I found the road I wanted. The finger post pointed to Wilburton, Burraton and Westlake. One was a farm, the other two barely hamlets. At Westlake there was no signs to Ermington or Modbury. A local put me onto a narrow descending road taking the rain water downhill. At last I reached a roundabout on the A379. Modbury was signed as two miles along this road. I reached Modbury, a reasonably sized town. An elderly man in a parked van directed me to my hotel. We talked a bit and the man offered me a lift. I thanked but said, having walked from Plymouth, I really wanted to finish on foot. He expressed disbelief that I 'd walked all that way in such dreadful conditions.

I reached the sanctuary of my hotel room and hung up all my damp clothing to dry. After an hour I was joined by the husband of a cousin and we had dinner together. He was a retired naval officer and he'd trained at Dartmouth Naval College. He put my mind at rest over whether tides affected the running of the Dartmouth ferry across the river to Kingswear railway station. They didn't. He and my cousin (away at a music festival) had recently moved to Newton Ferrers on the river Yealm.

Today 16.88; total 3676.31.

The clothes I'd hung up in my room were still wet. The obliging man in charge of my breakfast put them through the spin dryer which solved that problem.

I felt very stiff after yesterday's efforts. I wondered whether I'd pulled a muscle in my upper right thigh as it was quite painful. That eased soon after I started walking.

My map showed that there'd been a battle at Modbury in 1643. When I looked this up I found that there had actually been two battles and that both had ended favourably for the Parliamentarians.

I had given much thought to the best route to Dartmouth. My problem was identifying the road that I should take to leave Modbury. I failed to align my map with the reality. Initially I left Modbury on the A379 not realising that this was what the road was. I soon realised my mistake and returned to the town. My first target was Mary's Cross. A local put me on the right road and said that I should turn left at the T junction. I came to a fork which the man hadn't mentioned. Was this was what he meant by a T junction. Would he not have told me which way to turn at the fork if it wasn't the T junction. I concluded that this was what he meant by the T junction and turned left. That was the wrong decision. Some time later at another road junction I sat down to study the map and identified exactly where I now was and how I should reach Mary's Cross. Mary's Cross was no more than a crossroads. I resolved always to have the next landmark in mind to minimise these egregious mistakes.

My next objective was Brownstop. Shortly after that I was to cross the B3196 near a pub. Opposite the pub was a petrol station with a food store doing brisk business. I took a cup of cocoa from the machine there. It was too early for food and I ended up having nothing to eat until suppertime. There was much traffic on the road and good custom for the petrol.

Next off I reached Gara Bridge over the River Avon (not, I believe, the better known Avon which comes out at Avonmouth in Somerset). After the bridge there was a long hill climb before Moreleigh. A cyclist with GBR on his vest was climbing this and descending, then climbing again. He must have done this three times whilst I ascended at a markedly more modest pace. He was intent on his training and never acknowledged me, just as a hare would not notice a snail. At Moreleigh there was no place for me to stop and take stock, drink some water and consult my map. I then found the entry to a public footpath where I discarded my pack and stretched out on the ground. It had become uncomfortable to wear my cap so I applied some factor 50 to my scalp and put my cap away.

My next target was Blackawton, a fair sized village with a church. I had some slight trouble identifying the exit road. At first I chose the wrong one but I saw that I was heading for Millcombe, right off my course. The signposts around here are unreliable and some have been tampered with. I didn't want to use Google Maps until I was close to my hotel.

Just before Hillfield I came to a junction where five roads converged. The signpost had been twisted round and I chose the wrong road. I reached a farm which was in the wrong place prompting me to turn round before the error became costly. Once through Hillfield I came to the A3122 which I had to endure for two miles or face a substantial diversion. Dartmouth was extending westwards with significant new housing estates. No doubt pavements will be added to enable residents to walk into town comfortably but it hasn't happened yet. I survived without them and entered Dartmouth.

Just before I reached my hotel a woman observed that I had a leaf in my hair. I ran my hand over my scalp but couldn't locate it. With my permission she said that she'd remove it for me to which I agreed. It was a fair sized leaf that I hadn't been aware of. The woman's husband made some obviously disparaging remark about his wife doing this but I couldn't hear what exactly he said. I thanked the woman saying it would have been a bad start at my hotel to check in with the leaf still in place.

My hotel dated from 1630 and looked out over the harbour. On the far side of the River Dart there was Kingswear from which I would catch a train tomorrow.

I ate in the hotel. Despite having eaten nothing all day since breakfast I was totally defeated by the vast meal placed before me. I'd chosen chicken breast. Two large pieces of meat were accompanied by a Yorkshire pudding, three large roast potatoes, parsnips, carrots, red cabbage, cauliflower and broccoli. I barely managed a third of it. I reassured the charming Argentinian waiter that there was nothing wrong with the food but it was too much for me. However, I was able to complement him on the Malbec wine which came from his country.

Today 15.63; total 3691.94.

I crossed the River Dart on the ferry which landed me next to the station. I discovered that the train to Paignton (where I changed trains) was a steam train. I waited for the incoming train which discharged an enormous crowd of passengers. The first train to Paignton at 10.30 was almost empty by comparison. It was announced on the intercom that the steam engine had been built in Swindon in 1951. When he checked my ticket the elderly guard told me that there was a company that ran the business and employed the staff. There used to be volunteers but these had almost been phased out. The trains ran for almost the whole year but less so in winter. There were a couple of stations before Paignton but the train didn't stop at these. Initially it ran alongside the river but it climbed out of the valley on a viaduct.