Looe – Freathy
A bit of a mixed day.
The fever of the day before had become a head/chest lurgy and I was feeling ten ways less than stellar, but I had three nights booked in Plymouth ahead of me, so a rest day was on the horizon. All I had to do was get to Portwrinkle or Freathy or Cawsands. From any of those destinations I could catch the bus on to Plymouth from where I could daytrip the shortfall. Easy.
After Looe came three hard ups on tarmac. The first was hard to see on the map because of the overlapping detail of the town, so it kind of took me by surprise, though it shouldn’t have because I was staring at a hill from the east bank of the Looe River. Not spinning on all cylinders today 
The next up along a country lane at Millendreth wasn’t so much of a surprise, but just after that the path got diverted around the Monkey Sanctuary on Looe Hill due to landslip, and even though it returned to the coast across a barren earth field, I decided to just stick to the lane.
Which turned out fabulously as it past by a cool little vinyard. I’d heard there were vinyards down in the west country, but this was the only one I’ve seen so far.
At breakfast that morning I’d got to chatting with Susan and Michael – a retired couple. Susan had spent years doing bits of the swcp whenever she could, and this time Michael had decided to act as chauffeur and PA. Susan had got a head start on me, but I caught up with her when the undiverted bit of path met up with the lane. I have no doubt Susan thought I’d cheated (though she would never be crass enough to say as much). Oh well. As I have said many times to many people – we all walk our own path. I reckon an already diverted path is licence to go which ever way takes your fancy.
We doddled together down to the beach at Seaton, then avoided the town road by walking along the breakwater and sands to Downderry Beach where we found Michael.
I left Susan to her sand-scribing (we all have our traditions) and puttered on, looking for the connecting path back up into town and the swcp proper. I’d asked for directions from a couple of guys walking their dogs on the beach. Their key piece of advice was not to go too far as I’d run into the nudist beach. Good tip.
From town the path climbed up a very steep, but gloriously foliaged…
…zig zag to the top of Battern Cliffs where I had to crack open the emergency Lucozade for an energy kick. Luckily for me, the sun brings out lots of day walkers so I had plenty of excuses to stop and have a chat, and hence rest. The views were spectacular too…
A few km later came the fabulously named Portwrinkle where I came across Michael waiting for Susan.
It’s impossible to see from this distance, but on the western side of Portwrinkle is an MOD fort and shooting range. Remember the booming sounds from a few days ago? Here was one of the potential sources.
On the map theres a big zone spreading far out to sea, ringed by red arrows and big red writing that says ‘DANGER AREA’. I’d seen plenty of helicopters and airforce planes swooping around, but this was the first land site on the south coast.
You can’t walk through the range when they’re firing (obviously), but the only indicator for live firing is a red flag that apparently somebody will raise at either end of the range. What if somebody forgot? Or the wind blew it away, or any other conceivable reason for there being no flag raised. But life is not without risk, and sometimes you just have to trust. So I barrelled through, past the practice ranges…
…and up and around the intimidating Tregantle Fort.
My aim was to get to Freathy by 3.30, when the two-hourly bus would trundle by. This meant I had to hustle, so there are no more pics along this route, but I can promise you that I did arrive just in time for the bus to Plymouth, which surprisingly took the car ferry across Tamar river.
And that was that. Three nights in Plymouth, with a forcast of rain and strong winds – plenty of motivation to rest up and get cosy with a book.
Stats: 33664 steps; 234 floors; 23.39 km
PenLoper 