Stage 12 -- Widemouth Bay to Boscastle

Long day... but beautiful, weather and countryside.

This was one of those stages that I sort of guessed how long it would take. Unlike with the H2H, where I was obsessive about working out how much ascent and descent and distance each day's hike comprised, this time I was a little um, well, lazy. I had two books which gave times between various points along the way, and I roughly interpolated to come up with estimates for the stretches we actually did. In some cases the hikes we did were the same as those in the books (e.g., Clovelly to Hartland Quay), in other cases, such as today, they weren't. So, it was perhaps just as well that even my estimated time for today was long (7.25 hours), because as a result Thomas and Suzi opted to take the day off (walking around Bude and Boscastle) rather than hike. Actually the true estimated length should probably have been around 8.5 hours....

The remaining four of us (Russ, Francoise, Jean-Paul, and I) started around 9:30 under lovely skies -- cirrus and another type of cloud whose name I don't know but that looks like wedding dress trains in the sky. After a half an hour along the beach in Widemouth Bay we started to climb above cliffs and soon felt once again far from the world. Sea, rocks, gorse, broom, heather, fields, and cattle... that was about all we saw. No houses, almost no boats, an occasional road, and very few people.

The path had a lot of ups and downs today -- about 1250m, I worked out, using the map, after the hike -- and at 21km it wasn't short. We made it to Crackington Haven (a little less than half of the way) in four hours, but it was clear that Francoise was tiring and also finding the increasing winds troublesome. While enjoying a late cream tea lunch, I looked at the map and realized that at the current pace we probably had 5 hours still to go... it was time for an executive decision. I "suggested" to Francoise and Jean-Paul that given the situation, they might prefer to take transportation to Boscastle and walk around there rather than hike the rest of the way... and they agreed. So, Russell and I set off at 2:10PM by ourselves.

I'm in pretty good shape at this point -- both from the hiking and from working out and losing weight from Jan to April, as is, for similar reasons, Russell, so we went fast, finishing the hike in 3 hours. The pace might have been a little fast for Russell -- at any rate he did say with a slight edge at one point that he thought we were hiking faster than we did on the H2H (and I think he was right!), but he soldiered through anyway and we arrived in Boscastle at 5:10PM footsore and tired, but quite pleased with ourselves for what we had achieved.

There were one "interesting" moment along the trail today. At one point we went along the edge of a field in which a herd of cows was grazing... one of which was not a cow. It was, I realized about half way across the field, a huge, concuspicent, double muscled bull, which both during and after a momentary dalliance with one of the cows eyed us, and I thought me in particular with what seemed like disfavour. Not good. There was a thin wire fence -- one wire -- between the herd and us, but that looked as if it might stop the bull for, oh, a micro-second or so. Very not good. I looked right to see what would happen if I jumped over the edge of the cliff... pretty steep drop... and the next stile was about 80 meters off uphill. Pretty much maxed out the not-goodness at that point. But fortunately the bull decided that we weren't worth bothering about and lumbered slowly off. Oof.

Stage 11 -- Morwenstowe to Widemouth Bay

Sunburn weather, easy hike, pleasant interlude in Bude.

But first... BEST CHIPS IN YEARS IN THE BUSH INN, MORWENSTOWE. Sorry, had to get that out of my system. For the untravelled Americans among us, "chips" are "french fries". And the rest of the meal was excellent too....

And second, Lidia left this morning as planned. She's off to Cambridge to help Madeleine do some end of the year packing, then she'll be in London for a few days and then... perhaps Provence, perhaps Bavaria, but probably not Cornwall unless the UK Meteorological Office promises her that there will be no wind during the last week of our hike.

But it was too bad she wasn't with us today because, of course, today was a perfect hiking day. We ambled along, through increasingly gentle terrain, had a nice light lunch at the "Life's a Beach" cafe in Bude, and sauntered into our Inn around 5PM. I'm sure there's more to tell, but I'm yawning too much to think. Maybe more later.

Stage 10 -- Hartland Quay to Morwenstowe

Wind? In retrospect, not until today had we really seen wind.

But first, back to yesterday evening. I was sitting on the bed before dinner when I heard what sounded like a band. Someone's got their TV turned on high, I thought... because they can't be outside, can they? But, just to be sure, I opened the window... and they were indeed outside. We went down to dinner, and there, nicely arrayed in front of the sea wall, was a brass band playing very well. In fact, amazingly well, considering that there was a Force 6 gale blowing. And they had an audience! Albeit an audience sitting in cars with their windows down halfway, and who, when applause was due, honked their horns. I said to our French and German friends: very English. Synonymous for insane, you know.

Dinner was acceptable... not great, but that didn't matter much because I wasn't hungry -- that cream tea at the Stoke-Barton tearoom was far from digested. And it was pretty cheap. We were all back in our rooms by about 9:30.

All night long the winds moaned and the surf pounded, so I wasn't too surprised when I looked out the following morning to see... pounding surf and powerful winds (but no rain). The weather forecast for Northern Ireland and England sounded like a hurricane -- 90 mile per hour winds (150kph) and torrential rain -- but the southwest, although affected by the same system, wasn't anywhere near as bad.

So, after breakfast we went outside to measure people's appetite for hiking. Lidia, feeling something in her chest, decided on the spot to take a taxi. Francoise made it to the first exposed spot before the wind took her breath away and she also turned back to go with Lidia. The other four of us pushed on.

It was pretty impressive. The wind was mostly from in front of us or onshore -- fortunately -- so it didn't feel unsafe. But we were pushed all over the place, at times staggering like drunks so strong it was.

The day before Suzi had complained of not enough pauses for rest and refreshment, so when we came to a picnic table on an exposed headland I made sure to call a halt. But as we were sitting around the table, holding on to avoid being blown off our benches, she said that she wanted to go on. There's just no pleasing some people....

After about three hours, and just after we crossed the border from Devon into Cornwall, it started to rain. Not particularly hard, but enough to break out the rain gear. Given the wind I put on a rain jacket, but all Thomas had was a poncho (some idiot had suggested to him that this is what he should take :-) and it whipped around like an epileptic on speed alternately blinding him and catching the wind to make him even more unstable. At about the same time the frequency and steepness of the ups and downs suddenly increased... and after an hour or so of this Suzi announced that she had had enough (with the implication being that I should do something about this... a task at which I failed, miserably).

Shortly thereafter we (Jean-Paul and I) lost track of them (Thomas and Suzi) when they took off along a track they thought we might have gone along....

Yes, a fine time was had by all.

Still, we got to Morwenstowe more or less in the time expected, to find Lidia and Francoise ensconced in the 800 year old Bush Inn. As those of us not staying there walked towards our B&B a taxi drove up... and out popped Russell, fresh from 26 hours of travel from Salt Lake City. The B&B (The Old Vicarage) was very nice, and those of us who were cold and wet took satisfyingly hot showers. The friendly owner agreed to do a batch of laundry for me. Russ and I played a game of snooker (possibly the lowest scoring one in the history of the game). And then we went back to the Bush Inn and had an excellent dinner with much merriment in three languages.

Yes, a fine time was had by all.

Stage 9 -- Clovelly to Hartland Quay

Lovely hike... sunny, but a bit breezy.

So, the idea today was to get an early start, hike 5 hours to Hartland Quay, have a cream tea in the Stoke Barton tearooms, and then visit Hartland Abbey and St. Nectan's Church.

Beautiful things, ideas.

First, the Red Lion hotel, in all other respects delightful and well-run, had only one server at breakfast. Second every one in the hotel decided to have breakfast at 8:30 on Sunday morning, with the result that the poor lone server was run off her feet and still woefully slow. So, instead of starting hiking at 9, we were an hour late.

Then the fresh hikers were troopers... but not quite as fit and fast as the guide book assumed... so instead of 5 hours, we took closer to 6. And so, although we were parsimonious with breaks (too much so, according to some!), we only arrived at the tea room at around 4:20... and at the Abbey at 5PM, too late to see the inside. We did see the outside though, and the church afterwards, so overall we did pretty well... and certainly as well as possible given the constraints.

The hike itself was glorious. The coast is particularly rugged and the strong West wind piled up big swells that were impressive as they struck the rocks and the cliffs. That same wind, however, was pretty constant and at times very strong -- as strong as we've seen it, but because the sun shone most of the time (scattered clouds), we weren't cold until the very end of the day. It did, however, at times turn the Lidia frog into a flying Lidia frog.

As said, the new hikers were troopers, but it was interesting to note how just one week of hiking has already made us so much fitter. When we started, we also weren't keeping up with the guide book times (most clearly on the Porlock to Lynton day), but yesterday to Clovelly we were faster than the guide book, and today even at the end of the hike we (Lidia and I) felt strong. In fact I was bounding (like a frog too, now I come to think of it :-) up the climbs for the last hour and a half. Encouraging!

The cream tea at the Stoke-Barton tearooms was the best so far -- excellent warm scones, and gluttonous amounts of clotted cream and strawberry jam. Oh, and good tea, of course. I think I may have overdone it a bit with the clotted cream... at any rate, I'm feeling cream-tead out for now :-(.

The church, St. Nectan's, has the highest steeple in Devon (125 feet) and can seat 600 people. It felt very archaic -- still with private pews in a side chapel for the lord of the manor, his family and guests, and with a beautiful 400 year old carved wooden rood screen. A nice guide to the church in English, French, and Germany, which was convenient.

The Abbey, which I am told has never been sold -- it was built by Augustinian monks in the 11thC., confiscated by Henry VIII and given to one of his knights, and since then in the same family -- was a bit of an architectural mishmash from the outside... and since we were too late to see the inside, that's the impression we are going to go away with, unfortunately.

Hartland Quay, and in fact the whole area, feels a little like it is at the end of the world... and it is at the end of Devon: tomorrow we cross into Cornwall!

First rest day -- Clovelly

Well, first offical rest day. And very nice it was. Some email, some Internet surfing, some reading, a walk through Clovelly, and of course the fresh set of hikers arrived! Fed them well, sent them off to bed early, and we'll see how they perform tomorrow on the way to Hartland Quay.

Stage 8 -- Appledore to Clovelly

Still some wind and clouds, but no rain, a fair amount of sun, warmer, and a beautiful hike.

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.

Day 7 -- Braunton to Appledore

Not a hiking day either, but at least it wasn't supposed to be one. Beautiful day -- sun and a few clouds -- would have been great for hiking, but was good for sightseeing too, which was what Lidia and I did.

Chris left at the crack of dawn to catch a flight back to Ireland from Exeter airport. Lidia and I took a taxi via Barnstaple, where we dropped off Franz and Ingrid at the train station for the first stage of their journey back to Germany. We continued on to the Rosemoor Royal Horticultural Society gardens, which were very nice, but two weeks later (when the roses will be in full bloom) will be spectacular. Found a few plants and trees we want to add to the Bavarian and Provence gardens, though, so that was good. Saw my first Dawn Redwood -- living fossil from China, discovered in the 1950s in a few remote valleys after previously only being known from the fossil record, and, remarkably, from fossils north of the Arctic Circle. Also saw a shattered stump of a Cedar of Lebanon that was apparently flindered by a lightning strike two weeks ago. Sic transit....

After a couple of hours wandering about the 68 acres of gardens, we walked up to Great Torrington for a quick bite of lunch. Seemed like a nice place (I particularly liked The Haggis and the Mole Bookshop), but quiet... like everywhere else today, probably because it is mid-week and not summer. From there with the bus to Bideford -- a nice little town but everything seemed to be closed -- and finally on to Appledore (ditto).

We wanted to eat at a highly recommended restaurant called 9 The Quay... but it had gone out of business. My second choice, Benson's, was shut because the cook was ill. So we had fish and chips instead and watched the tide come in. Which is, by the way, VERY impressive around here. When the tide is out there are huge expanses of mud flats and sand banks with stranded boats scattered here and there. When it comes in the water level rises about an inch a minute (necessary when you have 8-12 meter tides), changing the view everytime you turn around. Fascinating to watch.

Also fascinating to watch the few people around act as if it were summer, despite the temperature being about 15C (60F). There was an ice cream truck, which was suprising enough, but there was also a line in front of it, which was borderline insane. And light summer dresses, flip-flops, shorts, and people sitting at tables outside. I guess I used to be like that when I was a kid in England... but now I walk around in a sweater and long pants and hug the radiator when I get back to the hotel room (after turning it on, of course -- not something that occurs to English proprietors apparently :-).