St. Just – Treen
After such an enormous effort getting to St. Just, the walk to Treen seemed somewhat anticlimactic and annoyingly long. Which was silly, because it was a milestone day (passing Land’s End and swapping from the north coast to the south coast), and I had been excited to move on to swcp map three in my five map A-Z set.
Maybe it was because I’d been to most of these places before. The only truly novel place to me was Sennen Cove, where I sucked down a can of flavoured sugar bubbles and inhaled a bag of chips (crisps to the locals) while watching the locals and visitors frollick with their dogs on the beach.
All the signs pointed to exhaustion (and the need to replenish sweat), but I had a schedule to keep and, as I have said many a time to many a fellow loper, the path won’t walk itself. Wise, I know 😉
Some time during this replenishment session, Emily passed me by. We’d first crossed paths briefly scrambling over boulders halfway between St. Ives and Zennor Head, and again at the St. Just YHA. Having compared experiences thus far, and future plans, we both realised we’d be leapfrogging each other for the forseable future. Emily wasn’t sure where she’d bunkerdown this night, but there was a good chance we’d aim for the same camp ground too. Parallel lives shouldn’t really be all that unusual on the swcp, but they are. Everyone walks their own path – which is much of the appeal.
Anyway…
Emily passed me by, grinning after a swim in the frigid Atlantic, and I just waved her on, hoping my energy levels would rise enough to see me through.
Some days, I have learned, are just a slog. Your pack feels like it’s full of rocks, and your legs never quite get into the swing of things. It’s effortful, without the satisfying rush of accomplishment.
With time marching on, I hauled myself up Pedň-mên-du, the headland out of Sennen Cove, and looked out over the Longships rocks to far-distant smudges floating on the water line. Scilly!
Something about seeing those islands I’d happily cavorted on last year gave me a brief surge of oomph and I barrelled around the kilometer stretch to Land’s End, took the requisite photo at The Sign…
…and continued on south-east (woohoo!) through the tourist carnival of Land’s End to Carn Cheer where the madness of daytrippers finally peters out and all before you is clifftop and a meandering dirt line to follow.
The south coast immediately struck me as different to the north. All the way I’d been hearing about the incredibly dry summer they’d had in this bit of the world. But the grass was always green and springs sprung a-plenty. The south, though, looked decidedly browner, and the path was hard pressed. Every step raised a little dust, and I was sucking down water like there’s no tomorrow.
Some sections were covered with amazingly rich heather that seems both delicate and hardy. I loved the myriad colours.
Further on, these beautiful coves harboured the toughest gorse and hedging shrubs that sometimes rose as high as my armpits. My poor tent hung on tight to The Beast, getting battered and bruised and scratched every which way I turned.
After two visciously steep down-ups at Porthgwarra and Porthcurno (site of the magnificent Minack Theatre), I finally rounded Carn Kizzie and trailed with relieved step after step across the friendly manicured fields to the campground at Treen.
I set up camp next to Emily’s tiny tent and breathed a huge sigh of relief.
One mackeral sandwich and can of Korev later and I was watching the full blood moon rise in the east (I have much better camera photos you’ll have to wait for patiently) while listening to the strains of Chicago (the musical) that drifted across the water from The Minack.
Stats: 34789 steps; 164 floors; 24.14 km
PenLoper 