11.5 miles today and arrived at our Airbnb at 3:30 feeling great. Chaotic morning though trying to figure out which were the best pockets to put all the things I’d need at hand (it baffled me with 5 pockets on my pants, 6 on my backpack, 3 in my jacket, and I ended up failing, and losing and forgetting where everything was), and it took a lot of time to give my feet all the love and care they needed to survive the day without blisters. Success with that thanks to soft pads on my feet, slippy pads in my shoes, a smooth balm on tender spots. Kimberly was very patient with me.

It was also a late start because I needed to take the classic photo under the Land’s End sign - paying a hefty fee for it - and they don’t open until 10am.

With all that settled, we walked out on the official Coast Path Trail and the first steps of the journey were taken. The trail was soft, easy to follow, a bit narrow at times with scary thorny gorse bushes on either side. It wasn’t too cold, and a gentle breeze wafted the smells of the ocean and spring flowers around. Perfect. In Sennon we visited a sweet art gallery and picked up sandwiches, then continued along its long, long beach.

Climbing to the cliffs again, the wind picked up and eventually we came to the rocky pass out of Sennon Cove that the guy at the holiday park we stayed at had described to us as “killer”. They were big rocks for sure, and the path a little confusing, but we made it through unscathed. I’m sure they can be treacherous if the weather is awful, but we were lucky with the mild day.

Cape Cornwall continued a long way off in the distance, where we had decided to stop for lunch. It always seemed distant, with the turns and twists and ups and downs of the path. Eventually I remembered there was a way to cut off walking out to the cape, and gently suggested to Kimberly we might take it. We decided we are not path purists, and would take an alternative way to our final destination. A new path forked right and we took it! It turns out this way was the same distance, just fewer deep ups and downs, and I enjoyed walking through the little village of St. Just. Kimberly didn’t so much. I like walking through the middle of how other people live, seeing ways different than mine unfolding, and especially when the buildings are old and interesting with clever names, colorful doors, and overflowing gardens. There were monuments to this and that, signs for upcoming spring fairs, and cats sitting in chairs looking out windows. However, there were also narrow roads to walk on that are tough on the feet and terrifying on the nerves.

This is tin and copper mining country, their tall chimneys dotting the horizon and warning signs to stay on the path lest you fall down one of the gazillion shafts scattered all over the cliffs. No active mines anymore, but you can tell people are proud of their history as a mining community. The local football club from Truro are named ‘The Tinners’! They failed to score in their last game. This seems to be a recurring event, people are not thrilled.

Pub and a shandy again tonight. A bowl of custard too! Overheard at the bar where four happy guys sharing pints were chatting about one’s recent trip to Vegas and Arizona: “The Grand Canyon - tell me, is it really that grand?” I’m happy and relaxing into this.