Weather: Grey & misty with sunny patches and a chilly westerley |
Distance covered today: 22.3km (13.9mi) |
Last night's B&B: Fortescue Arms |
% Complete: Cumulative distance: 10.1%: 102.1km |
Total Ascent/Total Descent: 286m/ 468m |
GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 5 (click!) |
You know you are back in the West Country when local TV
gives information about the sea! In London, local weather talks about pollution
levels and in Surrey, it’s the pollen count that exercises the forecasters. Here,
the vital information is obviously the timing of the tides! Coming back here
after a five year absence is like waking up from a very deep sleep. Suddenly
there are fields of buttercups, turning great swathes of countryside into burnished,
butter yellow, just as I remember; not at all like the acid yellow of the rape
seed that covers so much of the agro-industrial countryside elsewhere.
It’s not all good though. I had similarly forgotten those murderous
Devonian lanes, where the edges are covered in beautiful flowers,
but they hide impenetrable walls with few options for refuge. The homicidal drivers continue
to regard walkers as fair game; something to add to the other road-kill. My
latest tactic is to walk down the middle of the road, flailing my walking poles
like windmills. This blog is evidence that this strategy is working out so far,
though many drivers seemed to regard me as some sort of nutter just escaped
from Exmoor (not that far from the truth, then?).
My route involved these lanes because last night’s B&B
was well inland, as I explained yesterday, and my shortest way back to the
coast was to weave my way down to Woolacombe beach. I thoroughly enjoyed the
interlude in pastoral Devon, but I am after all supposed to be walking the
coastal path and so I headed for the sea. A few days ago, Veronica pointed out
that the swallows had returned; something I had obviously not noticed. Today, I
was anticipating a first sighting of a much larger mammalian migrant; the surfer.
It turns out that this hugely populous species has yet to arrive. Also, the
surf was pretty non-existent, possibly the product of the extraordinarily good
weather I have been experiencing since the beginning of this adventure.
The change in the countryside in such a short distance is
just breath-taking! A day ago, I was hanging onto the cliffs with my now hardened,
but lacerated finger-tips, and now I’m suddenly in surf-city. Today I crossed
three extensive beaches; Woolacombe Sand, Croyde Bay and Saunton Sands. Exmoor
is behind me and despite all those arduous roller-coasters, I miss it. For the
next two days, the way is going to be almost flat. It is the nature of this
incredible journey that the environment is subject to constant change and that
is partly what makes it so attractive.
That said, an immediate consequence is that I am
frustratingly inland again tonight. This time, it isn’t the B&B’s fault!
Geography is the problem. Tomorrow, I have to negotiate the Taw River estuary and so
I will be heading back to that same old, disused railway line, which will take me smoothly
and comfortably to Barnstaple, which is the first place where I can cross the
Taw River. To get to tonight’s B&B I had to negotiate a pavementless major
B road, connecting the coastal resorts with Braunton and Barnstaple, so my
walking sticks were again very much in evidence!
As I approached Braunton, just as houses started to appear,
I observed a young woman approaching the edge of the road, and carefully
looking both ways. Seeing the road was temporarily clear she turned tail and
positively sprinted back behind a wall whence she had come. A few seconds
later, a car poked its nose out and turned onto the road in my direction without
hesitation. She had two young children in the car and I immediately understood
what she had done. Sticking her car's nose out far enough to see if the way was clear
would have exposed it and her precious cargo to danger, so she had devised a
coping strategy! I was grinning from ear to ear as she approached me and she
gave me a delightful, if rather bashful smile as she went by on her business.
The highlight of the day though was something very different.
Today I walked the only bit of the South West Coast Path that I had walked on a
previous occasion. Far from finding it tedious, I walked in a state of high
emotional tension. The last time I walked to Baggy Point between Croyde Bay and
Woolacombe Sands, I spent the entire walk practising my speech for my elder
daughter’s wedding, which was to take place the following day in Somerset. I was transporting a hyper-excited gaggle of
very sophisticated young ladies who were accompanying both my daughters to
spend the day surfing in Croyde Bay.
Each step along the path brought back memories of that
momentous occasion. At the time, I hadn't appreciated how emotional I would get
about the whole thing. At one point on my walk today, I was so lost in the past
that I seriously stumbled near Baggy Point, and almost twisted my ankle,
protected only by my stout new boots! At the wedding reception, I stumbled
doggedly through my speech without notes and only forgot a few paragraphs.
Probably better that way! Some scurrilous youth was, according to a rag
released to all invitees, taking bets on the speech of the father of the bride
exceeding an hour and a half, and wasn’t getting good odds!
You lot probably won’t be surprised!
These Devonian small businessmen are obviously a literary lot. This garden service company has taken its name from Lynn Truss' book on punctuation, "Eats, shoots and leaves"
An example of the Devonian death tunnels. Those walls may look soft, but believe me, there is unforgiving stone just inches in!
My first view of Woolacombe Sand, with Baggy Point beyond
A sea of buttercups
Napps Cliff reflecting in the calm water. Not so good for surfing, then!
I lie! A tiny wave!
The huge tidal range is clearly evident on the cliff ahead
Multi-coloured rocks
Looking back towards Woolacombe from Napps Cliff
That blue haze on the slope is a sea of bluebells
Sharply tilted sandstone at Baggy Point
Heading for Croyde Bay and a change in the weather. The glass is clearly dropping!
Despite being lost in the past, I was constantly interrupted by a stream of day trippers. This is a very popular place
Some avant-garde architecture
Despite the absence of waves, there were some surfers in Croyde Bay; ever hopeful!
The well-remembered dunes of Croyde Bay, which I shared in magical harmony with my younger daughter. Shades of the beaches near Edenly!
More modern architecture; Kevin McCloud of Grand Designs would be happy here!
Looking down at the third major beach of the day, Saunton Sands with the Taw Estuary beyond
Right next to my B&B. Wouldn't you just love to live in Gubbins Lane?
Alright now, Kevin! You claim to be an engineer, but the words in this blog are those of a poet! I hope Anna will read them.
ReplyDeleteWe looked at your route ahead and observed the circuitous path via Barnstaple in order to progress south! On paper at least, that looks really, really frustrating!! But it does give you an opportunity to say hello to Prince, and no doubt you will find some interesting and curious sights along the way.
Not poetry, Phyllis, just fact! And yes, I hope you are right about the detour; I've already said as much as I dare about the railway line!
Deletei have to assume that Prince is a horse?
ReplyDeletethe roadway looks as if it has been specifically designed to deter walkers such as yourself but i suppose it was built before the arrival of the motor car? the picture lends clarity to the actions of the young mother!
woolacombe sand looks idyllic and saunton sand - echoes of noordhoek.
sorry surfers - no waves today.
Richard, you are indeed correct; Prince is a horse, trained by my younger daughter and subsequently taken over by Veronica. When she sold him, he went off to live near Barnstaple. Echoes of Noordhoek indeed!
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