Day 40: Plymouth to Noss Mayo

Weather: Cloudy with cold South Easterly
Distance covered today: 15.7km (9.8mi)
Last night's B&B: Jury's Inn
% Complete: Cumulative distance: 69.6%:  741.7km
Total Ascent/Total Descent: 441m/ 408m
GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 40(click!)

On balance, I have to admit that Plymouth was a bit of a disappointment. These things are always relative and I had had, I suppose, unrealistically high expectations. As a boy, I had learned that the Spanish Armada had been sighted from Plymouth Hoe, that Sir Francis Drake had set out on his epic voyage from Plymouth and that it had been a major contributor to the success of the D-Day landings. I expected to find a city combining its unique history and really lovely geography into a vibrant post-industrial city, attracting entrepreneurial talent from the whole of the South-West and beyond.

What I saw in my short visit, was a rather tired city; a bit on its uppers. I lost count of the number of vacant shops, cheap take-away oriental food shops and fish ’n chips shops. True, in the Barbican near the waterfront there was some evidence of an artisan culture of coffee and stylish bakes, but nothing like the excitement and panache of the same thing in London or Brooklyn.  It had little of the zest of the towns I have been visiting around the South West coast. I suppose the obvious point is that the dramatic withdrawal of funding from the Royal Navy has had its impact disproportionately on Plymouth, and this may have had a dispiriting effect on the local population as a whole.

I did, though still find my visit rather moving. I spent some time at the huge memorial commemorating all the sailors who had lost their lives in the First and Second World Wars and whose only grave was the sea. They came from all over the British Empire. The vast number of names was overwhelming. The senselessness of it all saddened me. I saw a plaque commemorating the death of a grandson of Queen Victoria, a Prince of Shleswig-Holstein, no less, killed in Pretoria in 1900. It was close to the memorial remembering the South African sailors who had died in the great wars, fighting for Britain, just a few years later. What idiocy! I had just finished reading an article in The Economist slamming Jeremy Corbyn for his pacifism, saying that it made the likelihood of future armed conflict all the greater, especially as he is almost certain to win the next election. I was depressed and confused.

On the way out of the city this morning, I ascended the cliffs to the vast array of forts and other military constructs. These were intended to protect Plymouth from attack both by sea and by land from the nineteenth century onwards and are now by and large, derelict. I came across a sign (pictured below) saying that as a result of “continued vandalism” it had become necessary to prevent “all public access” to the area. That absolutely did it for me! I was furious!  I thought of all the sacrifices made by prior generations from all over the world for this country, and now their memory is being desecrated by uncaring youths.

As I climbed down from my high dudgeon and indeed from the high cliffs to what became a hugely enjoyable and relatively easy transit of the low cliffs, I reflected that as a youth I too had totally rejected the ethos of the times in South Africa, I had to admit that I had no idea at all about what motivated a Janner vandal.

It got me thinking about the first time I chose actively to go against authority’s specific instructions. We were out sailing on a large lake on a yacht owned by a very good friend of my Dad’s. It had been a long, hot day and a lot of alcohol had been consumed by the party of friends on board. As I was helming the yacht and the only youngster there, I hadn’t drunk much, and I kept suggesting that as it was getting dark, we really should be heading for home as we had no night navigation equipment. Eventually, the owner agreed and gave me a bearing to steer which he said would get us back to port. I knew that there was a rocky shoal in the middle of the lake and I was actually following another yacht which I could just make out in the darkly gathering gloom, but which the older generation just couldn’t see. My logic was that if the other yacht didn’t crash into the shoal, neither would we.

 My father’s friend was obviously getting angry with me and my father, really keen to keep the peace, was appalled that I was refusing to obey his friend’s specific instruction, or to surrender the helm. The standoff continued and I held my course. We made it safely back to port and everyone was civil enough, but something significant had changed in the relationship.

In retrospect, I can’t really say why I refused to take instruction on that day. The chances of hitting the shoal were quite low, and we did have lifesaving equipment and a rubber dinghy, so why not just take the line of least resistance? Veronica might argue that mulish, self-righteous obstinacy is the key personality trait here, the same thing that is making me walk unendingly around this unforgiving coastline.

Possibly true, but as I considered that sign capitulating to the vandals, I just wondered whether there might have been a way of channelling all their aggression and energy into renewing Plymouth itself and turning it into a jewel of the South West. Too much to hope for?

My first ferry of the day, from the Mayflower Steps across the Cattewater to Mount Batten. Typically, the ferry has been designed so that passengers can't see out when they are sitting, and aren't allowed to stand up when the boat is moving! I pointed this out and was given short shrift!

Intriguingly, a new set of Devonian waymarks for the Coast Path. Solid Rock! This one enigmatically with a flying boat on it!?!

Built between 1646 and 1652, this tower was built as a fortification against the threat of war with the Dutch. It was named after William Batten who had commanded the parliamentary navy against King Charles I. The walls are made of local limestone and are about a metre thick. It is similar to Cromwell's Castle on Tresco on the Isles of Scilly, where my mum-in-law sent Veronica and I for our honeymoon

I passed an earnest group of volunteers, picking plastic off the beach. Theirs is a big job and I'm not sure they know how many miles it is to Minehead! Still, got to start somewhere, and they are the antidote to vandals!

Another muscular waymark!

And another! This one had to be circumnavigated to see the whole path explicitly stated!

Drake Island

Another waymark....

From stone to metal! At Jenny cliff

Joe, on the ferry from Cawsand to Plymouth told me that his firm had poured millions of tons of rock into this strange breakwater, which sits uniquely in the middle of the sound, open at each end. (Inevitably, there's a fort in the middle). The logic must have to do with the protection of Sutton Harbour from the prevailing seas 

Enough said.......

Gigs out training in the bay

Part of the vandalised military structures. These were shooting ranges

More decrepit military structures. They are everywhere!

Rame Head and its chapel at full zoom on the other side of the bay

An absolutely wonderful level path with an extraordinarily low lumpiness quotient!

The Great Mew Stone above the gorse

Wembury Church and the source of major hassle for me. I couldn't find accommodation for tonight, because there was a wedding scheduled for today and all accommodation in the area had been booked for months. In the end, I was lucky, or I would have had to scrap the last few days of my trip 

By absolute sheer coincidence, I came across the guests as they waited for the bride and groom to arrive. They were unsympathetic!

Approaching my next ferry across the Yealm at Warren Point. It is a really beautiful estuary

Finally, some bluebells for Bridgy. This has been an awful year for bluebells because of the cold weather, but I couldn't resist this shot 

My ferry awaits! Thank goodness! He operates only intermittently! My B&B tonight as a result of the wedding, has no WiFi or TV in my room, but it does have an ancient record player and some favourite LPs from the seventies. That will cheer me up when I get there!