We took the bus from Appledore to Westward Ho! (a somewhat tacky 19th Century marketing village -- built to capitalize on the popularity of Charles Kingsley's novel of the same name) because the walk there would have been flat and relatively uninteresting and there were 6 hours to hike afterwards anyway.
The day started off quite windy and cool -- as one wild-haired chap scudding towards us said, "It's a bit breezier than I thought it would be!" Lidia did her frog imitation, bundling up in a fluorescent green wind-stopper fleece, hood up to keep out the wind, and we marched resolutely westwards. But after half an hour or so the wind slowed, the sun came out, and it became a lovely day-- Lidia's best day so far, she says.
Me, I'm English: as long as it isn't raining, I'm fine. Oh, I prefer sun and warmth with no wind, but I'm not really bothered unless it is raining. So I've been enjoying every day, even when it drizzled (because, of course, drizzle doesn't count as rain :-). It also helps that I'm not a fair-weather hiker -- something I found out on the H2H. Most people are fair-weather hikers -- nothing wrong with that -- but I'm not.
All the above detail because, based on emails I've been receiving from some of you, I've been leaving the impression that we have been suffering due to the weather. Well, at least for me that's inaccurate, although clearly others have not been as sanguine.
Back to the hike. A fair amount of up and down, into and out of wooded valleys, as well as long stretches through ancient woodland (big old twisted oaks and beeches and ash with lichen and moss and ivy and ferns growing on them), lots of green tunnel hiking (with high hedges on both sides) but still plenty of views of the huge bay -- during the day we could see back to Foreland Point (which we went round on Day 5), and forewards to Hartland Point (which we will go round on Day 10).
We only went through one village (and for that matter only passed one other house) before Clovelly -- a lovely little hamlet called Buck's Mill, tucked away in a deep cut wooded valley.
And around a quarter to five we arrived at Clovelly, reputed to be the most beautiful in Devon... and as far as I can see, deservedly so. We walked down the 30% incline of the cobbled main street, enjoying the views of one lovely stone house and miniature well-kept garden after the other. Lidia, having forgotten the description in my document (and people ask me why I don't write more! Most people don't read what I write and those who do don't remember it!) was both surprised and delighted.
Our hotel, the Red Lion, on the rocky foreshore next to the miniature harbor at the bottom of the village, is charming, our room (and shower) excellent, dinner was hearty and well-prepared, and after a walk along the pier in the dusk, watching fisherman setting up for an all night vigil, we retired and went to sleep well pleased with the day.
