Two weeks of my journey down, and about 10 more to enjoy! I’ve walked roughly 142 miles. These have been well-earned miles, I’m assuming and hoping most days over the next weeks are a bit easier. This coastal trail is beautiful but hard going; if you ever have a chance to experience even a short morning on the Cornish or Devon coast, do it. It is stunning, and there are access points along the SWCP to get an experience of its specialness. I added to my route map to roughly show where I am, and today I left Cornwall and entered the county of Devon!
Today we started at 7:30am because the guide said it would be severe, 4,200ft of ascent & descent, and take longer than one expects. And the weather reports forecasted quite a bit of rain and strong winds. All generally true, except that we made remarkably good time and reached the hostel by 2:30pm and the sun came out by 1pm! Still quite windy though, with gusts of 30mph.
We had made sandwiches, had some grapes and apples, and ate while we walked because we really didn’t want to stand around too long in the inclement weather. I was more tired today than I have been, and lifting each leg up the steep slopes felt like a 50lb weight. I think it was my lingering mild cold, but I feel great now so perhaps the fresh wind and climbs really knocked it out for good.
The dark morning with close clouds really sets a sombre mood. Nothing pretty flitting about, trudging steps with head down; Kimberly and I both noticed the heaviness felt with tougher weather. Obviously the rain will effect one’s experience, but to be out in it for so many hours, changing clothes from warm items to waterproof items while not being blown over, really takes the wind out of your sails. Which is an ironic expression, because there was PLENTY of wind to propel the biggest sail. When the sun succeeded in its all day struggle to come out, the birds, insects and we were bouncing in the warmth.
Today the ocean and cliffs continued to impress. We had to cross many creeks on bridges or stones, and we took a short break in the remote writing hut of poet/playwright Ronald Duncan. Beautiful poetry displayed on all the walls. I saw more fabulous big black beetles that have been on the paths for days and finally got a photo, I came over a ridge and scared a flock of sheep, and as I climbed and they scampered I counted 92. Now I have a real image to recall on those nights when I can’t sleep… And my favorite moment of the whole day was when three beautiful horses walked over to say hello, and seemed to plaintively beg for a treat. They didn’t get our apples, but somehow they must have known we had them because they really gave us the saddest eyes as we walked away.
Tomorrow is another long, steep hilly one. But fewer, and the weather looks better. The old schoolhouse hostel is quiet, time to climb into my bunkbed.
