Day 8: Westward Ho! to Clovelly

Weather: Cool, cloudy and clear - perfect walking weather

Distance covered today:  19.9 km (12.4  mi)

Last night's B&B: The Village Inn

% Complete: Cumulative distance: 16.3%: 165.7km

Total Ascent/Total Descent:  889 m/835 m

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 8 (click!)

A curious day, to be sure. I have often commented on the good manners and general friendliness of long distance walkers, but today was an exception. I'm not sure whether it is the imminence of the May long-weekend or the fact that I am gradually encountering the more touristy bits of the South West, but my encounters with others left something to be desired.

It started last night as I cheerfully approached The Village Inn in Westward Ho!, expecting a happy reunion with the management. A fellow walker entered simultaneously and pushed forward to the reception desk. While we were waiting for someone to attend to us, I asked him politely about his day and where had he walked from. He looked irritably at me, dismissed the question with a wave of his arm and loudly demanded service. He then remonstrated with the landlady, who seemed to me to be slightly on her ear and the two did not reach a happy conclusion.

This morning I pointedly ignored him at breakfast, which apparently suited him just fine and left him time to complain about the inadequacies of the menu to the nonplussed and rather frightened young waitress, who I would have thought had no impact on the menu whatsoever. To cap it all, I discovered that the hotel is under new management, and the delightful couple I met last year have retired!

All this contrasted strongly with my experience yesterday, on the train to Exeter. A collision of coincidences had me sitting next to the Chief Correspondent for Channel 4 News. I had given up my seat so that a couple could sit next to each other and so I found myself sitting next to and speaking to someone who has been an intimate observer of all the disastrous wars of our time. I have often been fascinated about what drives a journalist to become a War Correspondent and have wondered at the motivation of people like Christiane Amanpour and Orla Guerin. In his diplomatic way, the Chief Correspondent was of course careful to nuance his views, but we had a fascinating discussion, and I learned much.

Inevitably, me being me, the discussion turned to my own exploits, and I discovered that he was, in his spare time, a long distance walker. He was in fact planning to walk the whole Pennine Way. I easily trumped that with LEJOG, and really caught his attention! By the time I had finished, he was seriously thinking of LEJOG as a retirement project for himself when that time comes!

As the Honorary Fellow in Journalism at Falmouth School of Journalism, he was on his way to Falmouth to give a keynote address; on the very day my daughter is going to her own university college to regale the current students on the subject of work/life balance. We reflected long and hard on the subject of how to set the right tone for a lecture to students from a position of authority, and decided that humility and spontaneity are the right answer.

I had to drag myself away as the train approached Exeter St David's Station and we were still talking as the train ground to a halt. Such a contrast with my experience later in the B&B.

Having finally left Westward Ho! behind, I was, as usual, a little intimidated by the prospect of a 20km walk involving a 1,000m ascent. I have been more assiduous than usual in preparing for this resumption of the SWCP, partly because I recalled how it clobbered me last year, but our puny Surrey Hills are no match for the jagged cliffs of the South West and the seemingly endless ascents and descents. This time, I was amazed at the number of people on the trail and aghast at how they all accelerated past me without any communication at all. The long-weekend or the South West? I will have to investigate further! At least I will have the opportunity to do so, because this year, I am walking for three weeks, unless my limbs and heart wear out before I get there! As it happened, I found myself catching up with all the sprinters and passing them later on the walk, and I pointedly copied their communicative inadequacies, while secretly feeling just a trifle proper, until a couple of grey-haired pros accelerated past me as if I was walking on the spot!

Perhaps because of these petty issues, I was all day in a rather reflective mood, brought on also undoubtedly because I am suddenly and delightfully, a grandfather. As usual, I am more impressed by the effect of this transition on me than, for instance, on my grandson, or indeed his mother and father, who might argue that I am missing the essence of the occasion! That said, one can only talk from one’s own perspective, and without wishing in any way to belittle the miraculous event itself, it has elicited in me a curious change in perspective.

Throughout my career, the nature of my business interests has required that I take a longer term view of the overall impacts of current decisions. From an investment perspective, that requires looking perhaps a decade ahead, but when looking at, for instance, environmental impacts, a longer time-frame is essential. Suddenly though, I am confronted with the incontrovertible fact that my grandson will be my current age in the 2080s! My vision to date sees the 2050s as the far future. I cannot conceive of his world in 2085.

Look at it in reverse.  Seventy years ago, the world was recovering from the second most horrific international conflagration in history. The British Empire was still very much in existence. Computers were an abstract idea in the mind of a great individual, who was persecuted to death for being gay. And since then things have been speeding up exponentially. Are we on the brink of the most fantastic explosion of human culture, scientific understanding and social progress, or will the awful cycle of human self-destruction just repeat itself, while we destroy the environment in the process? We are almost certain to find evidence of life elsewhere in the universe, yet we still don’t understand the absolute detail of our own evolution. By the time my grandson is my age, most of these issues will have been resolved, but he will be battling to know how to cope with an extraordinarily pervasive artificial intelligence, which, by then, will be threatening human existence itself.  I have argued previously in these blogs that this doesn’t matter, but the existence of my grandson makes me question those thoughts! I need to do some more serious thinking!

Sage advice!

A parting view of Westward Ho! Still an unusual skyline for a British resort

Baggy Point,still visible in the distance

Really?  More Westward Ho! humour...

Not exactly Hokusai's Wave, but a pleasant perspective nevertheless

Grey pebble beach

Lundy Island through the mist

Clovelly in the distance at full zoom

A beautiful combe necessitating another descent to sea-level

Ancient trees in seaside woods

Suddenly, a new house in the middle of nowhere! How?

Looking back along the pebble beach

Bluebells and blue sea

Looking down on the isolated little community of Buck's Mills

Lime kilns explaining Buck's Mills existence. The limestone was imported from Wales

This is the Gore, which local legend holds was a pebble causeway started by the Devil to reach out to Lundy Island, but he gave up when his Devonian shovel handle broke

More woods and bluebells

The Hobby Drive, built by Sir James Hamlyn Williams in the early nineteenth century, using the labour of Napoleonic prisoners of war. It provided welcome relief over the final kilometres of my walk

A bench commemorating a "new" section of the Hobby Drive, built in 1901!

These are the two who sailed past me, for the third time today!

A wonderful bridge on the Hobby Drive. Such intricate work

Looking straight down to Clovelly

The impossible steep cobbled drive down to Clovelly. No vehicles allowed

My B&B for the night

Extraordinary Clovelly!

Day 7: Westleigh to Westward Ho!

Weather: Grey to start then sunny with strong westerley

Distance covered today: 18.6km (11.6mi)

Last night's B&B: Honeysuckle Cottage

% Complete: Cumulative distance: 14.4%:  145.8km

Total Ascent/Total Descent: 323m/ 344m

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 7(click!)

The rain forecast for today failed to materialise, or more accurately, the front passed by while I was still firmly asleep, so that I spent much of today’s walk in lovely sunshine. Given a relatively relaxed schedule, I was also able to explore the fascinating little towns of Bideford, Appledore and Westward Ho! at greater leisure. This last is the only town in Britain to have an exclamation mark in its name. Also, though there are many novels named after a town, Westward Ho! is the only town to have been named after a novel! The author, Charles Kingsley, was a resident of Bideford when he wrote the novel, described in Wikipedia as racist and anti-Catholic. Nevertheless, it was the very first book adapted for radio by the BBC in 1925. Kingsley’s book was published in 1855 and the town was started less than a decade later. As such it is, by British standards, a new town and it certainly looks it!

While many are rather snooty about its very obvious architectural limitations, I found it to be a friendly sort of place, catering exclusively to holiday-makers and my guidebook says that “whatever else you may think of it, there’s nowhere else like Westwood Ho! on the entire path”.

Bideford, where Kingsley actually lived and where he based his novel, is very different. I was amused to find a plaque on the Long Bridge commemorating the restoration of the bridge, in 1925! Actually the bridge dates back to 1284, and the name of the town (pronounced ‘Bid-a-fud’) means “by the ford”. In 1587, settlers sailed from Bideford for Virginia to establish what is thought to be the first English-speaking colony in North America.

Between the two lies Appledore, a picturesque little fishing village, with a rather alarming quay; completely unprotected by any sort of barrier with a clear 20ft vertical drop to the moored boats below! The village is a maze of little streets and multi-coloured cottages, where the traditional focus on fishing seems to have been replaced by an obsession with art and design. I could have spent more time there, but aimless pottering is not the lot of the long-distance walker!

Talking of which, another day passed without my encountering any. I did at one point share a moment with an avuncular and rather laconic Aussie. He told me he had a couple of spare days and had chosen to do a bit of the SWCP, but his pack is too big and heavy, so he was being very selective about what he was choosing to do, using a daypack and local buses. It all seemed eminently sensible to me. He had previously done the Coast-to-coast and Offa’s Dyke, so he certainly qualifies, if not on this occasion. He cut the conversation short and went on his way.

Meanwhile the path itself continued its eccentric circumnavigation of the Taw and Torridge estuary. Late this afternoon I was still able to see a hotel I had passed a couple of days ago above Saunton Sands. Baggy Point came magnificently back into view, this time surrounded by a much angrier sea. I don’t think I have ever walked so far and covered so little distance as the crow flies, not that I have minded as it has introduced me to a fascinating community of ancient towns (Westward Ho! excluded!!), which obviously owe their antiquity and continuing prosperity to the protection of the estuary.

That said, I don’t think this element of the walk would appeal to many walkers. Recently, and somewhat out of character, I joined a group of very experienced walkers; associates of a friend who is a retired colonel. We went to walk in Malhamdale, a place I remember with great affection from my experience on the Pennine Way. I was a little apprehensive, as I was aware that the group was very experienced and had been walking and climbing together for many years. I didn’t know how I would react to walking in a group, or indeed whether I would be able to keep up with them. In the event, I was one of the younger participants, and was able to keep up. Two of them were walking tour leaders, capable of leading experienced walkers on the most challenging of walks, but some of the others were past their prime (I know the feeling!), and the group, described as “a mixed-ability group” easily accommodated each other, as only an old group of friends can.

I was though interested that some of the participants were not interested in walking for the sake of it. For them, a walk has to have a purpose; for instance either a difficult objective with the satisfaction of achievement, or access to a beautiful environment or view. I don’t think that they would make good long-distance walkers. Those of us with the wild and staring eyes like walking indeed just for the sake of it, with beautiful views and singular achievements being rather intermittent and unexpected surprises.

So it is with this walk.

On that note, I bid you farewell. I’m off home tomorrow after this first leg of the SWCP. I haven’t yet decided when to do the next bit; I had thought I would do one leg per year, but this has been too short, so what about later in the year? We’ll see! 

Thank you very much for your company!

The new Torridge Bridge, described in my guidebook as "ugly but necessary". Actually, I find it rather graceful

Now, this mermaid confused me! To start I thought that she was an evolutionary curiosity needing diving equipment to submerge. Then I noticed the fish in her helmet implying she needed water to breathe. Then I noticed her pointing to the caravan, and gave up!

Kingsley's "little white town" of Bideford. That is his description and it now proudly proclaims itself as such on the signposts at the entrances to the town

The ancient Long Bridge

It was "Yarn Bombing Day" in Bideford last weekend. All the trees and lampposts get covered in multi-coloured woollen scarves as part of a charity drive 

The Pannier Market in Bideford. Whereas the market in Barnstaple was British, this one is decidedly English. Why?

I'm an elderly tree and my balance is suspect. I need a helping hand!

Hours after I started, I passed last night's village on the other side of the river. I could see my room!

Attractive cottages on the way into Appledore

Building an Irish naval vessel at the Babcock Shipyard near Appledore

Appledore Quay

The narrow streets and pastel coloured cottages of Appledore

Then, Saunton Sands Hotel comes back into view, days later!

Not to mention Baggy Point, beyond Croyde Bay!

Westward Ho! over the Royal North Devon golf course, the very first links course in England!

Looking beyond Westward Ho! to the cliffs beyond; waiting for my next trip!

Kite surfing off Westward Ho!

Sorry, but this is Westward Ho! humour!

A typical coastal scene in Westward Ho!

Day 6: Braunton to Westleigh

Weather: Grey all day with a hint of late sun, chilly westerley

Distance covered today: 25.1km (15.6mi)

Last night's B&B: Stockwell Lodge

% Complete: Cumulative distance: 12.5%: 127.2km

Total Ascent/Total Descent:  215m/195m

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 6 (click!)

He came yomping up the path towards me in a strangely familiar fashion. As he approached, I stopped him and said, “Hullo, sorry….., but I think I’ve met you somewhere?!”
“What? Me? Whadya mean? When?”
“I know!” said I “Isn’t your name P… Pat…. PATRICK?!!!”
“Yes, but….”
“I remember now!” I said with rising enthusiasm “We met on the Roman road of Dere Street, just off the Pennine Way. We were heading for Jedburgh in Scotland. We were both doing Land’s End to John O’Groats. Back in 2011, early June, I think”
“Yes, I remember now. We had lunch together. There was someone else”
“Yes, an Aussie. He had worked for BP. I think his name was Richard.  I remember you told me that it was your second LEJOG. You said you had been depressed after completing it the first time, and your doctor recommended doing it again!”
“Well, I am doing it again. This is my fifth time!”

I couldn't believe my ears! The fifth time! I remember describing him as a nutter with “wild and staring eyes”, just like me and presumably all nutcase Lejogers! I had walked all the way from Land’s End to Scotland without encountering a single Lejoger, and then two in one day! Now five years later (I've just checked. I met him on 19th June 2011!), here I am walking down the coastal path and who should I bump into? What are the chances? In a country of more than 60 million people! It makes Leicester City for the Premier League Title seem a sure thing by comparison!

He asked me if I had seen any other Lejogers on my way “south” on the coastal path, which I hadn't. He told me that this time he wouldn't be going down Dere Street but would go all the way to Kirk Yetholm at the end of the Pennine Way, and that then he would approach John O’Groats from Cape Wrath to avoid the traffic on the dreaded A9. I assured him that if I were to do the trip again, I would do exactly the same! (Don’t worry, Veronica. I may have wild and staring eyes, but he is single and I have no intention of doing it all again. Yet. )

This whole strange coincidence capped off what has been a fascinating day. My guidebook had argued that it would be an ordinary day, but I've learned to take that lot with a pinch of salt. If you aren't hanging by your fingernails to a cliff face or leaping up and down some improbably high hill, then you can’t be having fun! Well, I do understand. After all, it takes a certain type of person to write these guidebooks!

Earlier in the day, I had a very pleasant interlude with Rachel, who is also doing the SWCP in stages. It is hard to believe that she is the mother of a 22 year-old daughter, so young and fit is she. She caught up with me and we walked together for a while. She told me that she had done a degree part-time, while bringing up her baby daughter and working full-time. I can scarcely believe that this is possible! No wonder she finds walking the SWCP a piece of cake! She now has a job in social research, and she was particularly interesting on the subject of university fees on which she is currently working. She told me that after an initial decline, enrolment is back up to pre-fee levels, but that there is evidence that university professors are responding to demands for better teaching. She couldn't comment on the rumour that fees are about to rise yet again. We parted company at the edge of Barnstaple. I was resolved to case the joint, whereas she was pushing on to Westwood Ho! this evening (my destination for tomorrow night!).

My detour to Barnstaple was rewarded by a fascinating visit to St Anne’s Chapel, a Grade-I listed building that dates from the 14th century and had been a ‘charnel house’ (a place for storing bones), closed down by Henry VIII. It became a Grammar School and educated some interesting characters including John Gay, a literary associate of Alexander Pope and Jonathan Swift. He wrote “The Beggar’s Banquet”, a satirical look at the politics and society of the day. It was produced in 1728 in London and was a runaway success, breaking all records. It was said to have made “the rich very gay, and Gay very rich”. I was given a personal conducted tour by two gentlemen, one old, the other young, who clearly lacked customers, and seemed delighted to accommodate me. I paid a brief visit to the Guildhall and the Pannier Market, which conveniently is open on Tuesdays, and which seemed to my untutored eye to contain a superior range of junk. It turns out that Barnstaple was one of the first four boroughs in England, granted the right to mint coins by none other than King Athelstan. They must have regarded the Normans as Johnny-come-lately!

Back on the trail, after a boring bit of straight and level ex-railway, I encountered the remarkable Fremington Quay. This unremarkable ex-rail station and quayside was by the mid-19th century apparently the most important port between Land’s End and Bristol, partly because the River Taw was silting up and the quays at Barnstaple grew increasingly unusable. (I assume the historian who vouchsafed this information was completely ignoring Wales on the other side of the Bristol Channel, but so be it!)

Just beyond the quay, I encountered a major reconstruction effort restoring the footpath across a minor tributary to the Taw. I could hardly believe the huge and professional scale of the refurbishment, just for a footpath, even if it has some historical significance!  Someone has to pay for all this! Clearly, the public sector hasn't got the money, so they will have to borrow it. But then the private sector in the UK isn't going to lend the money either. The balance of payments has reached a record negative imbalance, which can only be balanced by the UK borrowing money from overseas to compensate for the difference between imports and exports.

My worry is that this can’t go on indefinitely. It has all the hallmarks of the South Sea bubble or the Dutch tulip-mania. Why should the poor in the third world continue to finance fripperies such as beautiful footpath bridges in the rich world? As I departed that fascinating scene, I resolved to write a letter to the Chinese President to thank him personally for indirectly financing the restoration of the Fremington footbridge so that Patrick and I might proceed unimpeded.

I understand though, that private capital is flooding out of China ahead of an anticipated currency crash. When that happens, there may not be much appetite any more for lending money to the UK.

Maybe that would be a good time to head for John O'Groats!!

A swan and her cygnets on a quiet wetland below Braunton

The assault course at the Royal Marines base at Chivenor (apologies for drizzle on the lens!)

A footpath to infinity!

The improbable Braunton Inn

Queen Victoria presiding over some poor, unfortunate. homeless people, taking shelter in an ornate building at the entrance to Barnstaple

Long Bridge, my route over the River Taw; the reason for my long deviation

A rather elegant Victorian tearoom in Barnstaple

The Guildhall

The Pannier market

St Anne's Chapel

My enthusiastic and very kind hosts. They couldn't do enough for me

The remarkable ceiling of the 14th Century building

Back on the trail, an Oyster-catcher

And then Patrick suddenly appears, like an alien from outer space!

Here's the picture I took of him on Dere Street in the Scottish Borders on 19th June 2011. Same style of shorts, trainers, and sticks. Us walkers don't change. Much

Is that a Hitler moustache on the poor girl? Clearly the graffiti artist wasn't getting on with his girlfriend!

The sheep seem oblivious to the the military hovercraft flying by!

The Braunton Inn from the other side of the estuary!  Not much change then!

Fremington Quay Railway station. Such a remarkable history. Now famous for cream teas

Fremington Quay itself

The incredible effort to refurbish the footpath bridge!

I searched for Prince everywhere, but couldn't find him. These guys were sympathetic, though.

A speck of sunshine on the River Torridge at the end of day. The forecast for tomorrow isn't good....