SWCP Day 9 – 18 April 2017

lovelly to Hartland Quay

A massive sleep last night. I set the alarm for a 9 hour sleep, then rolled over and got another hour. Guess I needed it.

The Finnish Trio became a duo, leaving one behind in Clovelly to rest and enjoy a cream tea while the other two charged ahead on a half day walk to Hartland Point. Can’t say I wasn’t a little bit jealous, but the coast path will go on and it has a persistent draw. So, me and the beast again became one, said goodbye to The New Inn, and set off up the cobble stones to the lush green grounds of Clovelly Court, and nearby woodlands that look like they’d been prized for centuries as natural places to linger in.

A beautiful area, abundant with spring growth…

…and stunning rock formations that gave the impression that the world is malleable (imagine that!). This wild, raw geology, was the highlight of the day.

Along the way I came across some interesting people. A young guy streaming BBC Classic radio walked to the rhythm of a Tchaikovsky violin concerto (at least that’s what I thought it sounded like). I’ve rarely missed music on this trip, but crossing paths with this guy did make me pay more attention to the sounds around me. I’d been focusing so much on the rhythm of my breathing that I’d lost track of the rumble and rush of the ocean, the tweets and squawks of seabirds, and the ever-present wind that twists through and wraps around everything in its path.

When taking a break in an irresistible patch of lush grass, an older gentleman came past and stopped for a quick chat. He was on his yearly pilgrimage to the place where he and his wife used to listen to the last cuckoos in Devon. They’re not there anymore, but he still does the walk, each and every year.

I later met a younger man who had come with his family to the same farm in Devon for a holiday every year for forty years. He was occupying a contemplation seat on a clifftop, reflecting on the changes he’s seen in the coastline. The shore far below was rough, with horizontal streaks of black rocks (similar to main pic), separated by a little sand and the gathering tide. He recalled years when there was full sand, and years when there was no sand. One recent year, he and his family had been on the beach when they heard what sounded like an earthquake. A huge portion of the cliff came down in a rain of boulders and rubble. It must have been terrifying.

On a more sour note, I spent a good few hundred meters repeatedly checking my boots for the source of a decidedly unwelcome odour. Up and over a stile I discovered the source…

…liquid poo, anyone?

Other natural wonders spotted: basking seals, guard sheep, and a strutting pheasant.

On the horizon, Lundy Island was still very visible. Lundy is a marker of progress on the coast path (you can see it in the distance on the below pic). I read a ditty that went something like this – Lundy light, looks bright, Lundy plain, looks like rain, Lundy low, looks like snow. On this day, Lundy was sitting high, almost like it was floating above the water – bright blue skies!

When I finally reached Hartland Point, I could have happily stopped for the day. I still had a 5 km to go till I reached the Quay, but the Point is a geographical marker of merit as from that point the path turns persistently south. Plus, it’s a good place to stop for a refreshing bottle of elderflower fizzy water. Mmmm.

After Hartland Point there were three steep down-ups that pretty much tapped me of any remaining energy.

When I finally reached Hartland Quay it was a little hard to tell how my knees would react to every step – stiff and sore, or like jelly. Pot luck, I’m afraid. The sticks were necessary at that point. Heck, a zimmer frame would have been welcome! Other aches included a near-raw area where my right arm swings against the beast’s strap, and a broken blister on my left heel that just wouldn’t heal. Each could resolve with a couple days break from hiking, but that wasn’t on the agenda.