It finally happened, and I’m surprised it took so long. I woke up and did not want to walk. I wasn’t particularly sore or tired, and my cold was completely gone; I just didn’t want to put on the same hiking pants, put a pack on my back, put the poles in my hands and set off down the lane. I took the morning a little slower at the hostel. Ate some yummy oatmeal, tenderly rubbed my feet with lotion, chatted with the other guests heading out on the SWCP in the other direction, and eventually I clicked back into the rambling mood.
Once we were out the door, I felt happy and moving was easy. Today was tough going though, not particularly the path (there were ups and downs, about 2,900ft of them), but it was the distance. We thought it would be a 12 mile day, but it was closer to 16 miles. Which is a little demoralizing as the day drags on. It took 7 hours, with a 15 min food break. Extra sad was the one café on the route we thought would be open wasn’t, so we had to eat all our remaining food which made for a meager lunch.
My dad has been present with me for so many days with the bluebells and daffodils, the old man wearing a handkerchief as a sunhat, mushy peas with fish & chips, so many things have brought him to mind. The only gate I’ve seen named was ‘Reg’s gate’. But today was all about the resilience and strength of my mom. I had to channel her to keep my spirits up and moving forward. When she set her mind to a task, it got done. Also, my ingredients for lunch was one half slice brown bread, 1/2 a banana, and half a pat of butter. So I made the sandwich my mom made me when we ran out of ‘normal’ things and I showed up at school with a banana sandwich. I hated it then. But today - delicious, best thing ever. Thanks Mom!
Today’s end point is maybe my most looked forward to destination of the whole 3 months - Clovelly! My parents brought me here when I was 7, and I remember it clearly with its ponies walking up and down the cobbled High Street to the harbor. I brought my children here when they were little. It gets more touristy every year, the estate that owns it even charges admission to enter the village. People live here, but never own their properties. No cars can navigate the narrow cobbled one lane falling down the cliff to the water. I still love it though: white cottages, pretty gardens, tiny harbor way down at the bottom, two pubs, one tea shop, and instead of making donkeys bear all the goods on the steep hill like they used to the people now pull sledges to transport coal for the fires, food, furniture, luggage, everything! Each cottage has a sledge propped up next to its door, kind of like our driveways.
It was a long day, culminating in a childlike delight for me. And of course the path to get here was lovely as always: interesting signs and interesting gates we passed through, beautiful vistas, flowers, people, buildings and even a waterfall!
