9 fabulous miles today, easy on feet & body & mind. After a very large English breakfast at the hostel (weren’t sure what we’d have on offer for lunch & dinner options in the small hamlets we would walk through so we filled up!), we started off at 8:30 heading towards Trevose Head and lighthouse. We crossed Constantine Beach early enough to catch all the local dogs and their walkers enjoying the sand; there were some really fluffy ones in the group with one lab outlier.
We were hoping for the famously great views SW to St. Ives and NE to Bude, but the mist was thick. When we saw a footpath sign ‘1 1/4 miles to Mother Ivey’s Bay’ cutting off the peninsula, we took it. Great decision! When we popped out back on the coastal path and the little cove of Mother Ivy’s Bay in front of us was adorable! The path was soft, flat, and the views so pretty, weaving in and out of little coves - without descending to the beach. Yay! More and more dogs out enjoying the morning, owners trying to keep up behind them. And then we came across the sweetest, saddest memorial to all the dogs who have dearly loved these beaches and have now gone to doggie heaven.
Kimberly sadly looking at all the stones on Constantine Beach, knowing she can’t collect any because she still has many days to go with a pack on her back.
We are camping tonight on a very rustic farm inland a bit, just south of Padstow. Shortly after the junction to turn off the SWCP (abbreviation of the official name of the South West Coast Path) we knew there was another tidal pool and decided to continue on a bit to see if it was possible for Kimberly to take a cold dip. Nope. The tide was high and waves rough. It had also started misting so heavily it was essentially rain. Glad we saw it, we turned around and headed back to the turn off.
The rest of the morning was great: the sun broke through a bit, paths through fields (kissing gates & stiles to navigate) and along quiet one lane roads. We picked up bread, cheese & ham in the one tiny shop we walked by for dinner in our tent, and then suddenly came across a country pub, like you do. This one though ‘The Cornish Arms’, happened to be run by the famous chef Rick Stein. We were making good time, too good actually and we didn’t want to spend hours hunkered down in our tent so we availed ourselves of the warm pub hospitality and ate, drank, played scrabble, sat by the fire, used the internet. Three and half hours passed.
Solid blue sky drew us out and we walked the couple miles to our farm campsite. We saw pretty flowers beside the trail and a house with really big stones. Arrived at our minimalist campsite, tent set up, hanging out by the double decker bus stranded here in the field for a second life as a bar (sadly closed till summer), and the cold wind is picking up so soon I will take shelter in our little blue tent and make it an early night.
