South Walk: Charmouth to Sidmouth

Saturday November 8th: Several weeks have passed since Michael Ricketts and I trudged into the village of Charmouth on the South leg of the walk. The plan for this weekend was to try and reach Budleigh Salterton on the Sunday, weather permitting, and for today, get to Branscombe.

I planned to stay at Branscombe overnight, although it had proved tricky finding a suitably priced B&B - but would sort it out en route. So transport wise - decided to leave the car at Exeter and made my way to Charmouth via train to Axminster and then the Bus. Got back on the trail at 10.00am - although the original coast path between Charmouth and Lyme is actually closed due to insecure cliffs, so had to head out of Charmouth the same way that I had just come in by Bus. The path then headed through some woods and across Lyme Regis Golf Course. It was a nice bright morning, albeit pretty windy and fresh.

Lyme Regis viewed from approach from Charmouth

It didn't take long to reach Lyme.

This is a place I know well. As a family we had holidays here, mind you that was 40 years ago! - but also I have some former work colleagues from my days with the Star Newspaper Group who live here, and in fact I was here last August to celebrate the marriage of my friend Peter Greenwood's daughter, Rebecca, and also, on the same night - the 60th birthday of my old boss Philip Evans, - a former Mayor of Lyme Regis, no less, and there have been numerous boozy occasions in Lyme over the years, it has to be said.

I took the opportunity to pop into a new shop that had been opened earlier in the year by renowned Westcountry photographer Richard Austin, who I had worked with at the Star and also met up with at Philip's wedding. He has some stunning photos and has become somewhat of a local celebratory with the publication of his "Animal Magic" books and TV appearances.

The walk along Lyme seafront is always a nice one and there were plenty of people enjoying the sunny morning. The sea was pretty fierce and crashing up around the famous Cob.

From Lyme, the path moves back up onto the cliffs before entering the Landslip nature reserve, a 7 mile winding path through woods, with only a few viewpoints of the sea. It was atrociously muddy and difficult walking, but I didn't hang about - and made good progress finally reaching the outskirts of Seaton at lunchtime, crossing yet another Golf course and dropped down to head for the Seafront.

Received a text from Stevie J at Peninsular - to say that Arsenal were beating Man U by 2-0 in the lunchtime Sky game. So as I was being blown along Seaton seafront and spotted a bar with Sky - it was a no brainer to pop in for a quick refresher. It was packed of course, and as usual I proved to be a rather unusual sight for the locals, with my mud spattered legs and backpack. I should really have arranged to meet up with friends Peter and Ann Greenwood who live in Seaton, and had offered to put me up, when I was passing through - but I'd left it too late and didn't want to land on them unannounced , so decided to carry on through to Branscombe. I had by this time, made several phonecalls to a Farmhouse B&B in Branscombe to no avail - so still without accommodation fixed, I headed on for Beer, which was just over the cliffs from Seaton. The weather was a bit unsettled now.

Beer is a very quaint place - pretty unspoilt and a good old fishing village. The walk from Beer to Branscombe is one that I have done on many occasions and is very scenic. By now, the wind had really got up and it was "hold you hat" time. I took the lower cliff path which takes you past all the chalets and mobile homes which are wonderfully positioned on the approach to Branscombe Mouth.

I have always fancied owning one of those.

Eventually, I reached Branscombe, legs pretty weary - another 14 mile stretch done. The Farmhouse B&B had got the decorators in - but had mentioned a place near the mouth. Branscombe village itself is up a steep hill which I could have done without, so I poked my head into the "Seaside B&B" a beautiful thatched building. The accommodation was superb but pricey to match. I tried to haggle with the price, but having been shown a suite with a bathroom bigger than my lounge and a lovely big bath - I decided to treat myself. The chap showing me round explained that it was his wife's business, so he couldn't negotiate for fear of instant death, which I could appreciate. It did occur to me that his wife would have probably taken one look at me and said that they were fully booked!

As it turned out, I was the sole occupant. My biggest problem was trying not to leave a trail of mud around the place, as everywhere was pristine. Had a relaxing evening - a great meal at the Masons Arms and fell asleep in front of Match of the Day. Some things never change.

Sunday November 9th - I was the first one down for breakfast, which wasn't difficult as I was the only resident! Met the owners wife who seemed very pleasant - turned out that thay have only recently refurbished the place and were quite new to it all. I told her, she would probably have to refurbish my room again, and she laughed manically! I didn't hang about and quickly got back on the trail, as I knew I was going to be in for some rain later. It was dry but very windy and the first big hill out of Branscombe was a bit of a struggle, but I soon got in my stride. The stretch to Sidmouth seemed to consist of several "Mouths" which had to be descended into and then climbed out of!

About mid morning - I could see that the heavens were going to open any minute, and the sensible thing would have been to get into the wet weather gear before it started - but no - I waited until it was heaving and then had to find a spot under a tree to attempt to put my waterproof trousers on!

-which involved taking boots off, sitting down - a right palava in the pouring rain. The next hour was pretty uncomfortable - I was wet on the outside and wet with sweat on the inside, but I got my head down and before long I had reached Salcombe Regis, at the edge of Sidmouth.

If it had been a decent day, the view across to Sidmouth was a nice one. I'm pretty familiar with Sidmouth, having worked there for several years in what seems a former life. It is a very pleasant place to work, even in the Summer, apart from when the International Folk Festival is on. During that particular week, it is difficult to concentrate on work, with a succession of Morris Dancers prancing through the streets with their ridiculous bells and gay attire. Apart from the Morris Dancers, who in my opinion, should be locked away for their own good, the Festival is a superb event which attracts people from all over the Country and Internationally renowned acts from all over the world.
After descending Salcombe Hill - I was eventually on Sidmouth seafront and the waves were pounding in as the weather took another turn for the worse. I had intended to carry on to Budleigh Salterton, but it looked pretty black in that direction and with time against me, I decided to head for the bus stop. My car was back at Exeter and I didn't have to wait long for the bus.
The Silly Season at work was now in full swing - so will be hanging the boots up for a few weeks and putting my Calendar head on!

North Walk: Into North Devon's Hartland

Sunday October 26th : Clovelly.

Woke up to pouring rain and a text message from Stevie J from work, telling me that Ramos had been sacked and replaced by Harry Rednapp!! That's got to be a wind up I thought, and with no TV or radio to hand, I had to phone him to check the story. After a hearty breakfast, I donned my full wet gear and headed off up the cobbled streets and westwards out of Clovelly. The owner of the Hotel had assured me that it would clear up mid morning, so I was looking forward to some spectacular coastline around Hartland Point and would have 11 miles to walk to reach Hartland Quay.

Still pondering the Rednapp scenario, I texted Michael Ricketts and got it confirmed - how could I have doubted it, nothing should suprise you in football.

The route out of Clovelly passed through some woods and then out into open fields with a clear view of the splendid large house, Clovelly Court. The Path kept close to the sea through wooded clifftops with occasional vantage points including a hidden stone tunnel which led to a splendid viewpoint.The path eventually wound it's way down to Mouth Mill with it's unusual double arched Blackchurch Rock.

Here the path should have led straight across the beach, but there was so much water running down onto the beach from a stream, that it had formed an impassable torrent. However, I made my way inland to a deserted stone cottage which had a small bridge across the stream. There was a steep climb out of Mouth Mill and and up to Windbury Point where you could see all the way back across Bideford Bay towards Morte Point. It was satisfying knowing that I had walked all of that way albeit in stages. The next point to reach was Shipload Bay, 3 miles further along the windswept cliffs.

A large Radar Dome loomed on the horizon at the end of Shipload Bay and the path passed around the Radar station and behind Barley Bay towards Hartland Point. By now, the sun had appeared and Lundy Island was clearly visible.

Hartland Point with it's old lighthouse is one of the most scenic parts of North Devon. It also had a refreshment snack bar which was a welcome sight. The lighthouse is closed, but you can walk up to a coastguard station viewpoint.

From here to Hartland Quay was a breathtaking walk. The sun was shining, the sea was pounding in, and it felt good to be alive. Although, I didn't realise it, the wind was biting cold but I wasn't staying still enough to worry about it. The path dropped right down into Blackpool beach where there was a lovely old cottage which was obviously for self catering - and what a brilliant location. The path then went up to the ruins of the Warren tower with the church tower of Stoke in the background. From here it was a short walk down to the Hotel at Hartland Quay where I was glad to see my car.

The seas here pounding the rocks with some spectacular spray. After a quick pint at the rather rundown hotel, I made my way back to Uffculme with the Spurs v Bolton match commentary on the radio. Good timing again, and they won.

Hartland Quay Hotel pictured

North Walk: Ho Hum - it's off to Clovelly

Westward Ho at first light.

Saturday October 25th
Another early trip up the North Devon link road. I had worked out a cunning plan with regards to bus links and parking for the weekend. Once I reached Clovelly and beyond to Hartland, the Sunday bus service was non existent, so I would stay the night in Clovelly. It was going to be day of great contrasts - starting at Westward Ho, a famous family resort named after the novel of the same name by Charles Kingsley and ending at one of Devon's most scenic and well preserved old villages.

Meantime, the first bus to catch was the 7.42am from Bideford to Westward Ho. I was going to leave my car at Bideford , as I knew I could catch a bus back to there from Clovelly, which was my target for the day. It would only be 11 miles from Westward Ho - but quite alot of ups and downs as usual. I struggled to get out of bed that morning - it was below freezing, although the forecast wasn't too bad, but I was convinced that I would miss the bus, which wouldn't have been a disaster, but the schedule was tight for the day in order for me to get the right bus back from Clovelly later on. As it happened, as I rolled into the Quay car park at Bideford, the bus turned up opposite. In a bit of a rush, I put the wrong amount of money in the Car park ticket machine, and fumbled about for more change - ended up buying two tickets, hoping the warden would see that if he added them both up - they would amount to a later time in the day!!! - are traffic wardens that clever? - I doubted it - meanwhile, the bus was sat there waiting for the right time to depart, so I needn't have rushed - in fact I still had time to go back to the car for my walking pole. Anyway - it was a beautiful if cold start to the day - and Bideford Quay looked very scenic with the sun rising and lighting up the cottages across the estuary.
At Westward Ho, I grabbed a couple of warm croissants from the Co-op and was on my way.
Once away from the beach huts and caravan parks it was a climb up onto the green clifftops and then a straightforward path heading for Peppercombe Beach. I could see my destination, Clovelly away in the distance, the other side of the large curved ark of Bideford Bay which stretches from Baggy Point to Hartland Point. As the guide book said, it was further away, than it looked, and I would appreciate that more later on in the day!


One of the features of this part of the coast is the number of Lime kilns situated close to the shoreline scattered along the coast.

Another feature was the enormous number of Game Birds. Now, I have met a few game birds in my time - but this was ridiculous. They were springing out of the vegetation in all directions.

At Babbacombe mouth the path went right down to the stoney beach which was strewn with sea litter, mostly plastic of course. It was well away from the tourist route - so I imagine that no one bothers to clean it up.

From here it was a nice stretch to Peppercombe. I was quite pleased that my new boots were holding up well - always a risk, although I had been walking them in all week. Unfortunately, the day's walk was one of the muddiest after all the rain - so they didn't look new for very long. By mid morning, I had warmed up sufficiently to break out the knobbly knees and from Peppercombe headed up through some scenic woods towards the isolated village of Bucks Mill - a poor mans Clovelly. Apparently there used to be alot of inter breeding between the close community at Bucks Mill, so I was expecting to see a village full of half wits and unfortunates. It was a lovely approach to the village climbing down through the woods and suddenly seeing the white cottages. The path ended up right in the middle of the village and there were lots of children playing noisily outside. They all seemed to have the right number of limbs, and I wondered whether they realised how lucky they were to grow up in such a scenic, out of the way place. In fairness they probably hankered for a Macdonalds and a Go Karting track!

From Bucks Mill, it was a long lonely stretch to Clovelly, mostly along Hobby Drive which seemed to go on forever through the Clovelly Estate.

I had been to Clovelly before - it really is beautiful, but by the time I got there - the sun had disappeared and the visibility was poor. The whole village is in private ownership and you enter through a Visitors centre where they fleece you for several pounds just to get into the place. However, if you have walked there - you pay nothing. I arrived in good time for my intended bus back to Bideford - so enjoyed my first coffee of the day and deposited several large chunks of mud off my boots in their cafeteria! I felt quite knackered and put it down to the fact that I hadn't walked the previous weekend so was out of practice. I booked a B&B over the phone. The woman thought me a bit strange ringing from the Visitors centre a few hundred yards away - and even stranger when I said I was getting a bus to Bideford, picking my car up, driving to Hartland Quay, and then getting another bus from Hartland back to Clovelly. Good luck she said. I am now pretty familiar with North Devon's Bus Services and they seem pretty good.

Back at Bideford, the good news was that I hadn't got a parking ticket. So drove to Hartland Quay, where it was blowing an absolute Hooley. The seas were superb. Hartland Quay consists of a large Inn and is no longer a working harbour. The plan was to walk from Clovelly to Hartland Quay on the Sunday and have my car waiting for me. I made sure that they were happy for me to leave my car in their car park overnight and sorted out my overnight clothes. I was faced with a 2.5 mile walk to the village of Hartland to catch the bus, which I didn't fancy to be honest.
It was up a steep hill out of the quay for a starter and having walked about 11 miles....so I flagged down the first car leaving the car park - and the chap who it turned out worked at the pub gladly gave me a lift and dropped me off right at the bus stop. The only problem was that there was an hour to wait for it - so there was no choice but to head for a local hostelry for a couple of pints in front of a welcoming log fire.
Arrived back at Clovelly about 6.30pm and got shown to my room, which was very roomy and had a lovely big bath with loads of hot water - bliss - I even managed to wash my mud caked trouser bottoms as well - took them off first of course!
Spent the evening at the New Inn Hotel bar across the road and then wandered down the slippery cobbled path down to the famous harbour which was deserted. The locals use sleds to drag things up and down the cobbled path which is very steep in parts. It was nice to see it at night and particularly out of season.

Back up the path to my B&B in the New House. Now, me and locks and keys have a bit of history, so it came as no suprise when I found that I couldn't open the external door to the accommodation.
I was conscious that there was a lady having a fag outside the bar watching as I fumbled about with each of the three keys looking to all intents and purposes like a drunk trying to get back into his own house. After a few hopeless minutes, I peered at the lock and it seemed that there was a key already in it! I conceded defeat and headed for the bar to explain my predicament. The barmaid - said "Oh yes - the other guests broke the key in the door - I told them not to close it" Great - it could only happen to me - locked out of my accommodation, and it was now raining. " I'll see if I can break in" the barmaid continued cheerily and grabbed a sharp knife. For the next 20 minutes 3 of us attempted to prise open a ground floor window with a veg knife and the light from a mobile phone.
Eventually, one of the locals prised it open and clambered in to open the door from the inside.
Meanwhile the brainless culprits who not only broke the key in the lock but then closed the door were snoring away in the warm and dry of their room upstairs.
The Clocks were going back that night - I was looking forward to bacon and egg in the morning and probably a wet walk to Hartland Quay!

North Walk - Bideford to Westward Ho, Ho Hum!

Sunday Oct 12th - Woke up to thick mist, so waited until later in the morning to head back to Bideford ( plus the Grand Prix was on!)

The plan was to head for Westward Ho which was a short 8 mile walk. From there I could get the bus back to Bideford, which wasn't the case if I had wanted to head on any further. Bideford is the base for heading to Lundy island - a popular trip.

There were some splendid old sailing yachts moored at the quay. The Coast path headed out of Bideford, down the estuary and through a pleasant area of woods before heading inland to avoid a stretch where a sea wall had collapsed and then on to Appledore.

In the 19th Century Appledore was a busy sailing Port and of course is still the home of Appledore Shipbuilders, one of North devon's biggest employers. It is a very pretty village with plenty of interesting back streets and gift shops and well preserved cottages. There is a big row going on at present in Appledore, with many of the locals campaigning against a proposed development of the old dry dock, which would see a large apartment block be built. Although the design looked very stylish, it would obscure many peoples view of the estuary and not really be in keeping with the quaint old village. Let's hope sense prevails, and with the dreaded Credit Crunch in full flow, plans are probably on the back burner anyway.

Appledore sits at the southern edge of the mouth of the Taw estuary. From here - it was flat walking all the way around the headland area - Northam Burrows Country Park and onto the long sands of Westward Ho - another popular surfing area. It was another beautiful day - more like August than October - and despite struggling to get out of bed that morning - I was enjoying walking this part of the coast. Everything always looks better when the sun shines of course.
Northam Burrows was a 600 acre area of Dunes and marshland as well as containing the Countries oldest golf course. Golfers had been losing balls in the dunes since 1846 apparently.

I walked the last couple of miles towards Westward Ho on the beach. The surf looked ideal and there were plenty of boarders trying to catch the waves.

Westward Ho itself is a typical family seaside resort - so not really my cup of tea - although as I had 45 minutes to wait for the next bus - I decided to get a Cream Tea down my neck whilst the opportunity was there, and very nice it was too. About time as well, I thought. This walk has been lacking in Cream teas for one reason and another.

Anyway - that was another 8 miles done - next stop will be the famous village of Clovelly.

North Walk; Saunton Sands to Bideford

Saturday October 11th - another dawn visit to Barnstaple Bus Station for the first bus back to Saunton Sands Hotel, where resisting the temptation to pop back in and say hello, I headed for the massive beach. There are a few alternative paths for this stretch- but the easiest route was to walk along the sands which stretch out for 3.5 miles! The sun was just rising and it was a beautiful cloudless sky, so the misty early light was superb. There were plenty of other early risers at the Hotel end - mostly joggers and surfers, but as I got further along towards Braunton Burrows, the place was deserted. At this point you are entering the mouth of the Taw Estuary, and for the next two days, I would be walking the complete stretch of both the Taw and Torridge Estuaries and around the headland to Westward Ho.

As I walked along Saunton Sands, I had a good view of Westward Ho and Appledore across the water illuminated by the rising sun. The tide was going out, and for most of the day, I was looking out over the mud flats of the estuary which was a haven for birds.

My target for the day was Appledore - or at least Bideford - and as it was going to be pretty level walking all the way - I was confident of racking up my longest daily mileage so far.

Walking through Braunton Burrows Reserve was all very scenic in the early morning light - and then the path headed down a tributary towards Braunton and around the perimeter of the Royal Marines base of Chivenor who use the Burrows for live firing practise, and apparently the Americans used it as a battle training area during the 2nd World war. I emerged unscathed and headed along the long cycle track into Barnstaple. The path was also the Tarka Trail and a very popular Cycle track. In the summer, it is a bit like Piccadily Circus apparently, without the black cabs! I was suprised at the number of abandoned boats - areas of the estuary were a bit like a tip, but it was probably heightened by the low tide.

By the time I got to Barnstaple - about 11.15am , I felt like I had done a days walk! - not sure why - but I had been pushing it. Had what I thought was going to be a quick coffee stop at a large establishment on the quay at Barnstaple which turned out to be run by a couple of hapless young guys whose speciality turned out to be burning teacakes. The burnt smell which pervaded the whole establishment, wasn't a great advertisement, but I thought I would be safe ordering a Cappuccino. " It might be a while" I was told. My reply of "Will it be ready today, or shall I come back in the morning" wasn't received as well as I had hoped, but then he was busy burning a teacake at the time.

I reckoned then that at a push, I could make it to Bideford, catch the bus back to Barnstaple, drive home and still just about make it in time for the England v Khazakstan game - life's all about timing!

The path from Barnstaple was again on the cycle track and I was looking at pretty much the same scenery but from the other side of the estuary. For the most part, it followed the old Railway line and at Fremington Quay, the old station had been turned into a busy cafe and restaurant.

The next milestone was going to be Instow which was down the Torridge Estuary which was an offshoot from the main Taw Estuary and at this point, I was definitely flagging. Along the way, the path went through an RSPB reserve and I met a professional looking Twitcher who informed me that he had spotted some Spoonbills as well as some King Eider at Instow, which are very rare in Devon apaprently. At that moment in time, I was more interested in spotting a Queen Vic or some other such establishment, being in good need of a sit down and refreshment.

Instow didn't let me down - and there was a well placed pub on the Quay where I could sit outside in the sun, enjoy a pint and watch the world go by. In fact, it was quite difficult to get out of the chair, but having aired my steaming feet and after a complete change of socks- I felt alot better, and started on the last stretch towards Bideford. There was nothing very inspiring about this stretch, and I just got my head down and ate up the miles. The final path into Bideford was across an old bridge over the River Torridge. As I literally limped along the quay at Bideford, I was praying to see the bus stop - and in fact I was even luckier, as there was a bus waiting for me! It was 4:15pm - and I worked out that I had covered 22 miles in 9 hours including stops!

And, I only missed the first 25 mins of the match! Back to Bideford in the morning for the short stint to Westward Ho!

The pic above is the view across the Taw Estuary to Appledor

NORTH WALK - A warm wet welcome at Saunton Sands (Not)

Saturday October 4th - ILFRACOMBE to SAUNTON SANDS.
Another crack of dawn start - and I was at Barnstaple for 6:45am to catch the first bus to Ilfracombe. Had been looking at the weather forecast all week - and it was never going to be good - but I was hoping to remain dry for most of the day at least. I invested in a new Berghaus wet weather coat for good measure plus some waterproof trousers - so I was prepared or so I thought!

By the time the bus reached Ilfracombe, it was just before 8:00am and not raining. There was a very welcoming Coffee Bar just by the Bus Station at Ilfracombe, but I resisted the temptation thinking I would get one at Lee Bay - 4 miles up the coast - some hope - it was like the Marie Celeste - deader than the Norwegian Blue! The walk to Lee Bay was a nice one - although pretty up and down - plus, I got my first taste of rain. It was quite cold as well, so I had been looking forward to that cappuccino at Lee Bay, but all I got was more rain. It's supposed to be a very pretty village nestled in a wooded valley, but all I saw was the picturesque bay and a very closed looking hotel which was all boarded up for Winter. I pressed on heading for Woolacombe.

The first point of interest was Bull Point and the Lighthouse. It was at that stage that I was first aware of how strong the wind was. During the whole day - I was to walk round three very prominent Points, as the coastline did a 90 degree turn south and was totally exposed. At each one - I was literally nearly blown away. It was quite exhilarating, in a perverse sort of way. At one of them - I passed a frail looking old lady who I thought definitely looked like a candidate for being swept up and launched towards Bristol, so I had my camera at the ready, and I was already considering how many hits the footage might get on YouTube, but the moment passed without incident.

The second coastal point was Mortehoe which was just before the fabulous bay of Woolacombe.
Having walked the best part of 6 miles from Ilfracombe and hardly seen a soul - suddenly there seemed to be avid ramblers all over the place - and I could see why, as despite the weather, it was a beautiful area.

Woolacombe was the first of my two Hotel excursions of the day. The Watersmeet Hotel was a large establishment overlooking the bay - and very popular with the over 60's it seemed. I didn't endear myself to their cleaning staff by traipsing across the Wilton weave with my muddy boots and settling myself in the lounge bar. The Daily Telegraph's were slowly lowered as I disturbed the elevenses tranquility and generally lowered the tone of the place. "This isn't a Backpackers" I could hear the Major mutter! I finally found Manuel and tried to order a Cappuccino. It turned out that their modernisation programme hadn't quite reached the stage where the luxury of an Espresso machine was to be considered as essential - but the waiter thought that he might be able to do me a frothy milky number! I said that I would leave it to his discretion, and ended up with a boiling hot weak coffee in a glass that was so hot you needed an oven glove to lift it to your mouth!

Slightly refreshed, I left and headed around the back of Woolacombe Bay, through the large area of Dunes. It was starting to throw it down, and didn't really stop, for the next 3 hours. The new coat got a good christening in more ways than one. There were plenty of surfers catching the waves, although despite the weather the swell wasn't that large - probably because it was about low tide.

At the end of the Bay, the path headed around the back of Putsborough and out towards the well known Baggy Point.
It was blowing a hooley at this point - and it was a case of head down and follow your nose- or bald head to be more accurate!
I was pleased to see that there were quite a few other walkers getting soaked as well - made me feel alot better. I managed to just about stay upright to get round Baggy point and from there you got a good view of Croyde Bay. By the time I got to the beach and Surfing area, I was deperate for a loo - and I only mention this, because it turned out that Croyde was 5 star rating when it came to these facilities. Maybe, all big surfing beaches are the same, but the individual Unisex lavatories were 1st class. They were very large and I did wonder whether the surfers like to take their boards with them, when performing such duties. In fact the toilet was so wonderfully spacious and dry, that I seriously considered eating my lunch there - but it didn't quite seem right somehow - I would have probably been breaking an EEC Health and Safety regulation.

From croyde - it was a fairly miserable few miles across the beach and round the coast to Saunton Sands. I was looking forward to reaching Saunton, as my guidebook said that the well known Saunton Sands Hotel welcomed all - including walkers. As to whether that included smelly soaking wet windswept baldheaded walkers, I was yet to find out! The walk along Saunton Down gave great views down the length of Saunton Sands - another massive beach with flat sands and waves rolling in. Finally the path ended at the road across from where was the 5 STAR hotel. I trudged across the car park heading for the Glass doors of the reception looking forward to a warm welcome.
The two Doorman in full regalia eyed me through the glass. I think only Saddam Hussein or possibly Gazza would have been received with less enthusiasm. I can only imagine the sight that I looked - I had my baseball cap on underneath the large hood of my waterproof - soaking wet shorts, bright red nettle rashed legs and boots covered with sand. I could see in their eyes that they were dreading the thought that I might just be hoping to enter the 5 STAR Establishment. What they knew, and I didn't - was that a Posh wedding reception was in full flow - and beautiful people in beautiful clothes were adorning their beautiful hotel. The last thing they wanted was a smelly steaming sand splattered old sod tramping around in soaking wet socks spoiling the general ambience as well as the furniture!

However - I gave them one of my best smiles - and said " Shall I take my boots off?" - "Oh yes please Sir, if you wouldn't mind Sir" - I like a bit of subservience now and again especially when I am looking like I have just crawled out of a sewer - fair play to the man - a professional through and through. "Where shall I go" I said - and before they could answer in a rude manner, "which bar"?

Unfortunately, there was no hiding place - and I "adorned" the main bar with it's stunning views - with Wedding guests milling about, I tried to hide away as best I could. I was going to have a Cream tea - but that suddenly seemed inappropriate. At one point - the very handsome bride and groom were escorted right past me to head out onto the very windswept patio for some photographs - with two photographers in attendance. Not missing an opportunity for a Blog photo - I leapt up and got a couple of pics of them as they came back - which must have seemd quite bizarre from an onlookers point of view, but it amused me no end.

Another reason for stopping at the Hotel, was the fact that it was also a Bus stop - so after a Pint and a packet of crisps - I was on my way back to Barnstaple. Another 15 miles or so done. Wet and hungry - I was looking forward to getting home. Sunday looked pretty much the same weather wise - so I didn't head back - but will do next week - and I will be heading for Westward Ho - and maybe a Cream tea!!!

SOUTH WALK:- From Abbotsbury to Charmouth - No dodgy knee and No cream Tea!

Saturday September 27th - and the alarm went at 5:30am for an early start to catch the 7.07am bus from Charmouth. I was heading back to Abbotsbury, where I had arranged to meet up with Michael Ricketts for a days walk to Charmouth. I packed extra First Aid equipment and pain killers in readiness. There was thick mist but by the time the double decker bus with it's 4 occupants arrived in Abbotsbury, most of the mist had been burnt off and it was a beautiful morning. Mike was so keen - he had got there half an hour early -and the village was deserted as we headed down the hill to the Swannery where I had ended my last walk from Portland. There was no sign of any swans, but I had e mailed the Swannery advising them that it might be better to keep the swans locked up rather than risk any more outbreak of Harpenden Bird Flu!

As we headed across the fields towards the beachside path, the fields were full of young pheasants, flying in all directions and I managed to fall A over T , much to Mike and the pheasants amusement. For the first hour we walked alongside what was the end stretch of Chesil Beach and were heading for Burton Bradstock. We were a bit startled to come across a sign saying BEWARE SINKING PEBBLES - TURN AROUND! I did a quick 360 degrees swivel, but I don't think that's what they meant. We kept going regardless of the danger and with reckless abandon. At one point, our feet were sinkng up to 2 inches into the pebbles!, but we were hardened men of steel and laughed in the face of such adversity. After about 10 yards we were out of immediate danger - and before we knew it were at Burton Bradstock beach and the welcome sight of the Hive beach Cafe. This was a splendid place and a Bacon roll and Cappuccino went down a treat. After a flat period of coast since Abbotsbury - the orange mud cliffs cliffs started to rise up and it definitely started to look more Jurassic. As we headed for West Bay, our half way point, we passed through Burton freshwater where there was a large Caravan park - one of many on this stretch. Despite the path clearly heading inland to avoid the waterway carving through the beach, Mike decided that we should be able to head straight on - and we only just avoided having to wade across.

From here it was a steep climb up out of the bay but with splendid views and sheer cliffs dropping down to the stony beach. After a couple more miles we could see the harbour of West Bay stretching out in front of us and an impressive series of cliffs disappearing into the distance beyond.

Being a dedicated athlete, it never occurred to me that we could stop in West Bay for a snifter, but when it was suggested - it didn't seem such a bad idea! But after that - there was not much to hang about in West Bay for, so we started out on the 7 mile up and down stretch to Charmouth!
At one point, as we headed across a flat stretch of grassy clifftop - we were approached by 4 women, one of whom proceeded to stop and start rolling up her trousers in front of me! I asked her whether she was going to trying to show off her War wound, which may not have been appreciated given her dubious age, but it turned out that she had a knee support also - and seemed to think that I might want to see it! Of course, a man with my stunning good looks, is well used to women tearing off their clothes at the sight of me, but it turned out that there were 6 of them in total - all had walked from Lyme Regis and were catching the Jurassic Bus back from West Bay.

Our next stopping point was Seatown, and a much needed rest at the beachside hostelry.

From here we were faced with a long climb up firstly to Thorncombe Beacon and then towards Golden Cap - which is the highest mainland point on the South coast.

Silver Cap on the other hand was complaining of "pains in his buttock" - well enough said!
It was a tough climb up Golden Cap, but the views on the way up were spectacular and even more so from the top where you could see for many miles in all directions

It was quite crowded at the top, as you might expect on a sunny Saturday - and we could clearly see our destination of Charmouth about 3-4 miles away. The thought of a nice Dorset Cream tea in one of the many Charmouth tea Houses was a welcome boost to our tired legs and painful buttocks.

On the final descent to Charmouth, we had been warned of an inland diversion around a cliff landslip, but in fact a fellow walker kindly informed us that it was easily circumvented, so we stuck to the original path and were soon at Charmouth Harbour bustling with day trippers stuffing their faces with ice cream cornets. Our walking mission accomplished, the next mission was to find somewhere pleasant for a Cream tea. Let's head up to the main Street, I said - there will be loads of places! I was wrong, so we ended up in the pub again! I had chalked up another 16 miles - the Dorset Health Authorities hadn't been required and it had been another beautiful sunny day - so all was well. After replenishing some of the lost fluids - I gave Mike a lift back to Abbotsbury. He is threatening to join me in Cornwall for another section of the walk, dodgy knees permitting!

Next week, I shall be back up to the North coast to Ilfracombe and heading for Barnstaple!

NORTH WALK:- Combe Martin to Ilfracombe

Sunday 21st September - Back to Combe Martin bright and early, grabbed a quick Cappucino and toast and marmalade at the excellent beachside cafe and then started back on the path at the small beach heading for Watermouth and ultimately Ilfracombe. It was to be an easy morning's walk - just 5 miles. Ilfracombe was a good stopping place as it was on a bus route - plus I had a lawn that needed cutting, not to mention a football game that had to be watched! having said that, it was such a beautiful day, and I was feeling pretty energetic, so I almost wished that I had planned to go further.

On the way to Watermouth,I spotted a figure plodding along ahead of me. I recognised her immediately as the lady I had passed the previous day on the long walk to Combe Martin from Lynmouth. This time, I stopped and had a chat. Heather was her name, and she was on a 6 day walking holiday having started at Minehead, carrying her stuff and staying along the way. She was certainly lucky with the weather - probably one of the best weeks of the Summer. I left her to plod along at her own pace - she was going to do another 12 miles that day - so was obviously pretty fit.

Watermouth was very scenic - a small fjord like harbour, and a perfect base for sailing. Apparently, it was a hive of activity during World War II when they carried out trials for a secret Wartime Operation.

At low tide - the path carried along the edge of the water, but as it was almost high tide - the diversion was along the busy road before rejoining the cliff path for a short period past Widmouth Head and Rillage Point and then again back onto the road to head down into the small seaside village of Hele.

From Hele it was a pleasant walk up to the top of Hillsborough which provided panoramic views over Ilfracombe, which looked very inviting and scenic from a distance. But then I was probably looking at the best part of Ilfracombe, the old harbour and I've since been reliably informed by someone who lives nearby, that Ilfracombe on the whole is a dump, and the hotels are full of unemployed layabouts from Liverpool! Well, I have yet to confirm that - but it looked nice from where I was walking.

Ilfracombe is actually the largest holiday town along this North Devon coast and has been a fishing port since the Middle ages. It was a nice walk from the viewpoint of Hillsborough down to the harbour itself, which seemd a hive of activity - with some large old fashioned rowing boats engaged in a race around the harbour, and various small saling boats scuttling around. Looming over the harbour is Lantern Hill and a small chapel of St Nicholas dating from 1300. I had decided to take the first available bus back to Combe - so didn't have long to look around. One of the downsides of the mission to complete the walk is that sometimes you are concentrating so much on getting the miles done, that you miss out on the sight seeing and don't go out of your way to see things that normally you would.

Anyway, apart from a look inside the Chapel - I don't think there was much at Ilfracombe to miss - I got myself on the bus, pretty much on schedule to make it back from Combe Martin in time for the lunchtime Chelsea v Man U game. In fact I walked in to the pub at Sampord Peverell, just as the teams were walking out onto the pitch. That's what I call timing! - Next stop - down to the South Coast again to Abbotsbury, where Mike Ricketts is joining me for the stretch to Charmouth. The Dorset branch of St John's Ambulance has been put on standby and all leave cancelled!

NORTH WALK - Back to Lynmouth

Saturday 20th September - and I'm back up on the North coast at Lynmouth, where I had walked to with Keith and Teresa during my 50th party week. I had parked my car at Combe Martin, my end destination of the day and caught the bus back. The path started again at the foot of the famous Lynmouth to Lynton cliff railway - a very eco-friendly railway carriage lift which works entirely by gravity with two carriages going up and down in tandem due to their weight difference. It was a beautiful morning with superb clear light and as I climbed the numerous steps up to the cliff top, the views down to Lynmouth and back towards Porlock were superb.

At the top of the steps you reach a high level path known as the North Walk which then takes you all the way to the well known landmark - the "Valley of the Rocks" and vantage point of Castle Rock. Being a nice day - there were plenty of walkers out and about as well as some Mountain Goats that roam the area. Also roaming the area was Jim Frost! I had passed Jim, who was ambling along the North Walk and he commented at the speed I was walking, I said I would soon be slowing down - and a little bit further on as I stopped for a drink, we got chatting and ended up walking together for the rest of the morning - as far as the Hunters Inn at Heddons Mouth.

Jim, it turned out, was from Bristol and a keen walker himself, he was taking advantage of the weekend's good weather to explore this particular area. It was good to have his company, (even though he was a Gooner!) - somehow, when you are walking and talking, the miles seem to pass alot quicker. We passed through the Valley of the Rocks after enjoying the view from Castle Rock and then headed towards Woody Bay through a very pleasant woodland trail passing the magnificent Christian retreat of Lee Abbey.

The whole of this stretch of coastline is some of North Devon's finest and it made for enjoyable walking. We eventually reached Heddons Mouth and I joined Jim for a drink at the splendid Hunters Inn which was just a bit inland up the river. Funnily enough, we ended up sitting next to a chap from Germany who was walking the Coast path for the second time. He had first walked it 30 years ago! and had come back for a couple of weeks to do part of it, and was going to eventually complete it all again in the opposite direction.

He left us heading for Combe Martin, and I thought I would probably catch up with him at some point, but I never did. I also parted company with Jim, who was heading back to Lynmouth and rejoined the path at Heddons Mouth for the 8 mile stretch to Combe Martin, the first part of which was a very steep climb out of the valley!

The route along this stretch is described in the guide as "long and lonely and without refreshment" and it certainly was long, but having had 2 pints of lager shandy and with a cheese and pickle sandwich in my backpack, I was laughing all the way! There weren't manyother walkers on this stretch, but I did pass a lady of mature years with quite a large rucksack who was obviously on a mission. She was plodding along rather slowly, so I just exchanged pleasantries, barged her out of the way and sped on my way. Having started the whole day later than normal - I was keen to get to Combe Martin before dusk and had been intending to stay there, but hadn't actually booked anywhere.

The last three miles to Combe seemed to take for ever, partly because it involved a long descent down to sea level, only to have to climb up again to a point know as Great Hangman which is in fact the highest point of the whole SW path, and named thus apparently because legend has it, that a Sheep Thief who had a stolen sheep tied about his neck, was resting on a boundary wall, when the struggling sheep leapt off, thus strangling the blighter. Ewe could make that up!

It was nearly 7.00pm when I limped into Combe Martin car park, which was right on the path, so I didn't have to go far to fall into my car. Couldn't be bothered to trail around looking for a B&B - so made my way back to Uffculme thinking of a hot bath & a large G&T!

SOUTH WALK - Swanning along - a nice Sunday stroll

Sunday 14th September - woke up early at my dodgy accommodation in Weymouth. Breakfast wasn't part of the deal - so got up early, cleared out of the room and made my way to the Esplanade. It was another beautiful morning - and I found a beachside cafe where I was delighted to see that Bacon Rolls were on the menu. Unfortunately, I was too early and the cooker wasn't turned on!!

I could have suggested that now might be a good time to turn it on, but bit my tongue and had a healthy energy bar instead. Found out the best place to catch a bus to Portland and was soon standing at the Ferrybridge Inn, the intersection between Portland and the coast path, East and West. I wasn't best pleased to discover that I had left my Map (in it's splendid waterproof map carrier case) on the damn bus seat. I knew I wouldn't see it again, I had ruined the Bus Drivers day by giving him a tenner for a £1.20 fare. He wasn't a happy bunny - cleared him right out of change. So seeing my map on the seat would have pleased him no end.

Anyway - today, I was heading for Abbotsbury - a straightforward 10 mile walk which mostly followed the edge of the Fleet lagoon, a shallow area of saline water which lies behind the bank of pebbles along Chesil Beach. The lagoon is an important conservation area and haven for birds.

It was a pleasant walk if not spectacular and on such a nice day, there were plenty of other walkers. Met a very nice couple blackberry picking who lived nearby and were moaning about how many people there were! They were the archetypal Lord and Lady of the Manor, but very pleasant and wished me good luck on my travels.

After about 6 miles - the path started to head inland in a loop which would end at Abbotsbury. I was putting my foot down, as I knew there was a bus I could catch at 13:21 from Abbotsbury. As it turned out - I got there with 10 minutes to spare - so was quite pleased with that. The path ended at the entrance to the famous Abbotsbury Swannery, from where I headed up to the village.

The last time I visited Abbotsbury, it was with my friend Michael (F1 Dodgy knee) Ricketts. A couple of days later, the Swannery was hit by Bird Flu. You can draw your own conclusions.

Although I had timed it perfectly for the bus , unfortunately it was then 40 minutes late! During which time, I could have eaten a Sunday Roast and downed a well earned Lager. Instead, I ended up spending the best part of an hour having to listen to a couple of simpletons who joined me at the Bus Stop. It became apparent, that they were brother and sister. She looked "simple" - he looked like an Axe wielding maniac. The conversation went like this :

Him " Why have you got a Bus Pass, I don't agree with it, I haven't got a Bus Pass, if I asked for one they would say drop dead and eff off, so why have you got one. In all my 41 years on this earth I've never known anyone who doesn't pay for a bus, I don't agree with it, if I asked for one, they'd say drop dead and Eff off." Her " Mum's got one" Him I've never known anything like it, don't go on about it, I'll throw the bloody thing in the sea, I will, I'm not joking, in all my 41 years, I've never known anything like it. I wish I'd never come on this holiday, I'd rather be at home in Weston. Where's the Bus - there should be a bus every 5 minutes this time of year . Why have you got a Bus Pass and not me, don't go on about it, because it will end up in the sea, If I asked for one they'd say drop dead and Eff off " Her "Mum's got one" Him " I've never ever waited so long for a bus - in all my 41 years on this earth, I've never waited this long for a bus, there should be one every 10 minutes this time of year. Why should you not pay for the bus, I have to pay, everyone has to pay, why don't you pay, in all my 41 years, I've never known anything like it, if I asked for one they'd say drop dead and Eff off. Where's the bus, there should be one every 10 minutes this time of year. I've never waited so long for a bus...........

I haven't exaggerated any of that and was rapidly losing the will to live when the bus did turn up. I sat myself down and they proceeded to plonk themselves right next to me - I thought I'd better move otherwise I couldn't guarantee that there would be a 42nd year of his life!

I was soon back in Weymouth, got back to the car and made my way home. I'd covered another 26 miles. Now it's time to get back up to the North coast - to my last end point, Lynmouth, from where I will head for Combe Martin, along what is meant to be one of the best bit of North Devon's coast.

I'll keep you posted!

SOUTH WALK:- My first Sunny day - and I'm off to Portland Bill

Saturday 13th September and I'm back in Weymouth - this time in the sun and it looks a whole lot better, although I'm not rushing to book 2 weeks at the Hotel Riviera quite yet! I headed back to the Esplanade and the Jubilee Clock where I last left the path.

Weymouth used to be a small fishing village in years gone by, but grew into one of the countries favourite seaside resorts as well as an important harbour. King George III used to spend his summers in the resort, and there is a very smart statue commemorating his patronage. I headed out from the Esplanade towards the old harbour, where I was too early to take advantage of a small ferry which takes you across to Nothe Fort at the mouth of the harbour. I walked the long way round and then headed out around the headland towards Wyke Regis. I was heading for the start of the long straight road onto the Isle of Portland. This has only been officially designated as part of the SW path since 2003 - and was a total of 13 miles from the start of the main road in at the Ferrybridge Inn from where I would pick up the path next time to Abbotsbury. The road onto the island follows behind the impressive bank of pebbles of Chesil Beach which extends for many miles down to Abbotsbury and beyond

After slogging along the 2 mile causeway path - the first point of interest on the Island is the new Osprey Quay Centre and Weymouth and Portland National Sailing Academy which will be the venue for the Sailing events of the 2012 London Olympics. An alternative path took you through this centre which seemed to be a hive of activity. From the harbour, I headed up towards Verne Prison where there were splendid views back towards Weymouth. It was good to be able to see a massive stretch of the Dorset Coast that I had already walked - all the way back to St Aldhelms Head.

Portland was a mix of scruffy MOD buildings, various establishments for offenders and some interesting coastline with an impressive escarpment which was obviously popular for rock climbers and abseilling teams. With it being a lovely sunny day, there were plenty of walkers, many doing the whole trip round the Island and others on various round walks from Portland Bill itself which was very crowded and spoilt by having a plethora of large Beach huts ( or small chalets) scattered around in a random fashion. It looked similar to the Shed/Summer Chalet area of a large Garden Centre.

The main feature was the impressive Lighthouse, in front of which was the sign (pictured left) showing Poole 49 miles!

The path from here along the western side of the Island was very wild and scenic along the top of the escarpment with far reaching views along Chesil beach and back towards Portland harbour. After 3 miles the path dropped down onto the promenade and I was heading back towards the Causeway. The 2 mile stretch back to Ferrybridge seemed to take for ever, but I had spotted that there was a bus stop within 50 metres of the path intersection, which would get me back to my car in Weymouth. My mood wasn't enhanced by 3 buses passing me in quick succession when I was still half a mile away from the Bus Stop! Fortunately I didn't have to wait too long.

I had decided to stay the night in Weymouth, but finding a vacancy wasn't that easy. I eventually plumped for a grotty looking pub and had the sort of bizarre incident that only really happens to me! After asking the barmaid if I could look at the room before deciding - she gave me the key to Room 9 and pointed me in the right direction. I had a bit of trouble getting the key to unlock the door - but it turned out to be a lovely large modern double room clean and bright - in complete contrast to the rest of the pub. En Suite but no bath unfortunately - but it seemed ideal for £35. Even so - I decided to try a couple of other places ( desperate for a bath!) No luck - so returned to the pub - paid for the room and she gave me the key back. I spent 5 minutes trying to get the door open again but eventually admitted defeat and trudged back down 2 floors to the young barmaid. I glanced at the key fob and could see that the key was for room 6! so I told the girl that she had given me the wrong key, an easy mistake, 6 for 9 . No she said - Room 9 is a double room - you are in Room 6 which is the single! She proceeded to take me back up the stairs to Room 6 - a grotty little poky hole with no en suite. I was too tired to argue - and came to the conclusion that I had probably been a complete plonker going to Room 9 in the first place which had obviously been unlocked, although mysteriously, my key had locked the door afterwards. I would swear she told me it was Room 9! Anyway, I crashed out on the bed and enjoyed "Strictly" and X Factor for a couple of hours - good recuperation fodder.

The pub had a live band on that night so there was no point in going to bed early - 3 ageing rockers doing covers - they weren't that bad - so me and the other 10 people in the pub quite enjoyed it! I would swear that the other 10 would have been propping up the bar anyway.!

SOUTH WALK:- From stunning cliffs to hot dog whiffs!

I had planned to walk all weekend - but Saturday was a wash out after the torrential rain so on the Sunday, 7th Sept, I was up at 5:45am to get on the road early to Lulworth Cove, where I finished up on my very first weekend of walking from the Poole end. The roads were deserted so I was back on the coast path by 8:15am heading out from the Heritage Centre up towards Durdle Door. It was another cloudy day, but good for walking. The plan was to walk 11 miles to Weymouth. The first part of the walk was pretty up and down, but with stunning coastline. Durdle Door itself is one of the most photographed areas of the Jurassic Coast with it's unusual semi circular bay and massive natural arch caused by erosion. Apart from a couple of dog walkers, the place was deserted . The next few miles were just as scenic with sheer drops of white cliffs. It was quite comforting being able to see my destination ahead of me at all times. Weymouth stretches out to sea with a long curved bay ending with Portland Harbour and the Isle of Portland Bill joined to the mainland by a long causeway built next to the raised pebble ridge of Chesil Bank to the West.

After a few miles, I reached the village of Osmington Mills. Bizarrely, at this point there was an alternative "inland" coastal path which goes for 16 miles to the village of West Bexington - so for 16 miles you see no coast at all!! - an inland coast path!! - that's ridiculous - so it was a no brainer to give that a miss and from here on - the path meandered through a series of fields and woods until it reached the outskirts of Weymouth at Bowleaze Cove. With all the rain, the paths were slippy and progress was slow - I slowed up particularly after an unfortunate incident where my feet went one way, my body the other and suddenly I was wearing a hedge! Fotunately, or otherwise, there was no witnesses to the undignified nosedive. A few miles further on and I suddenly realised that within a couple of hours, I had been transported from Jurassic natural beauty to Moronic grockle territory.

Candyfloss, hot dogs, stripy deckchairs, and fat Northeners were suddenly in abundance. On a grey September day - Weymouth looked pretty grotty.

Suddenly I had reached the main promenade - which followed the curved bay. I seemed to attract a few strange looks as I marched along with my walking poles, map around my neck, backpack and knobbly walking knees! Which mountain had I just descended from - I could see them wondering. By this time, I felt I'd walked far enough, so was glad when I reached the Jubilee clock on the Esplanade- my end destination of the day. From here, I headed for the train station, and within 20 minutes was on the Weymouth to London train getting off at Wool. Unfortunately, being a Sunday, the only way to get to Lulworth Cove from here was to use a Taxi. I upset the taxi driver by trying to barter with him - £12 seemed a bit steep for a 5 mile journey - but it was either that or walk! So after a 5hr walk - I was back where I started in 40 minutes. Next weekend - it's back to grotty Weymouth - and carry on around the Isle of Portland.

NORTH WALK:- Mein Head takes a bashing - only another 580 miles to go!

Tuesday August 26th: Well - here we are - a motley crew it has to be said - at the Official start of the SW Coast Path in Minehead - where I was starting my "North" walk of the entire path. The start of the path is commemorated by a metal sculpture representing a pair of hands holding a map. A map was definitely needed as painted on the path by the sculpture were two arrows going in completely different directions! - but it turned out that they have changed the official route since putting the sculpture up.

I was joined by (L-R) my brother Roger, an old friend (in both senses of the word) Bill Duncan, sister-in law, Teresa and my eldest brother Keith - plus their faithful hound Ed for whom it was just another "walkie" It was Tuesday 26th August - and we were all still recovering from a weekend of excess, celebrating my 50th birthday! Friends and family joined me at "The Great House" in Timberscombe, nr Dunster for a House party and BBQ. A good time was had by all, one of the highlights being me cracking my head on a beam, when I got a little over enthusiastic during a Karaoke/Air Guitar competition with my friend Michael Ricketts. We won, as it happens - all down to my guitar technique of course! But Timberscombe was also the perfect location to carry on with my walk, only being 5 miles from Minehead and with plenty of willing Taxi Drivers to pick us up at the end of the days' walking. The first stretch from Minehead was a modest 9.5 miles to Porlock Weir.

Notable absentees were Bill's partner Patricia Radway - who spent the day preparing for a forthcoming Job interview AND more importantly - preparing to cook us all a Pasta supper on our return. I think the sight of my knobbly knees and varicosed legs at breakfast confirmed that she had made the right decision - the pasta was good by the way! Also unable to join us was Roger's partner, Kim Laughton who was distinctly unwell with some sort of virus/stomach complaint all weekend, which was a great shame. Roger and Kim had come over specially from Holland for the party and enjoy the week in Exmoor - but the bug laid her pretty low.

So the five of us set off and after a couple of steep climbs through woods out of Minehead we were on the cliff path heading for the village of Bossington. It was not long before we came across an alternative path - there seems to be quite a few of these - permissible options to the Official SW Coast path - often more scenic and closer to the actual coast. This one was described as "Rugged" and in theory was an additional extra hour of walking - but unfortunately was also supposedly prohibited to Dogs - being an area of wild conservation. Ed was pretty wild about it himself to be honest - he loves a rugged path. So we decided to split up and Roger, Bill and myself - (3 more rugged guys you would be hard to find!) took the alternative, whilst Ed, Keith and Teresa stuck to the official path.
NOTE PIC : Roger - Rugged Aussie Hat - "Sheila" Backpack
It was a beautiful walk through heather laden valleys - strenuous in parts - but worth the detour - and we met up with the others at Hurlstone Combe for a lunch stop

After that - it was on to Bossington Village and then a steep incline down towards Porlock Marsh - a saltwater marsh which had formed after a terrific storm many years ago which breached the Pebble ridge on Porlock beach and flooded a large area inland - which still floods periodically after spring tides when the path becomes impassable.

From here it was level walking all the way to Porlock Weir, where we joined the pebble beach for a short stretch and could soon see arms being waved at us manically from the Car Park. My parents and Kim were waiting for us - we had agreed it would be about 4:30pm by the time we got there - in fact it was 4:29 - that's what I call timing - and we were greeted like long lost adventurers having crossed the Antarctic, when really we had just strolled along the coast a few miles - but we all wagged our tails appreciatively and headed for the Ship Inn for some well earned refreshments.

What should have been a simple round of drinks turned into a drama, as the Barman, who was Polish of course, and had been breathing rather heavily and sweating profusely, proceeded to inform us that he had just been stung by a wasp to which he was allergic, and was in the throes of anaphalytic shock. Expecting him to keel over at any moment - we made sure he finished our order promptly, and then left him to it. Personally, I think he had just been having a dalliance with a member of the kitchen staff - and had rustled up a cunning ruse to elicit sympathy and a fat tip!

TWO DAYS Later we came back to Porlock Weir for the next stretch - a 12.5 mile walk to LYNMOUTH.
This time, it was just myself, Keith,Teresa and Ed who was now a big fan of the SW Coast Path

Much of the days walk was through woodland areas - just inland, with occasional glimpses of the coast through the trees. The path had been altered due to landslips - which seems to be a common problem throughout the route. After a couple of miles we came to the delightful thatched Worthy Toll House - still taking tolls from car owners - and a little bit further on - Culbone Church, which appears in the Doomsday Book and is the smallest church in England, still holding regular services. Not enough room to swing a choirboy - you could just about get 30 people in apparently - or perhaps just 15 American Tourists. The woods surrounding the church once housed a Leper Colony - but they weren't allowed in the Church - there were too many fingers inadvertently left in the collection bowl apparently.

After a brief stop - we headed on towards the Glenthorne Estate where there was a delightful Lodge with very impressive Boar Head Gateposts. Some steep paths up and down followed as we then headed for Foreland Point - where there was an alternative and apparently very strenuous path to a lighthouse, suitable for people with Mountain Goat like qualities. Having just walked 10 miles - we decided to give that the body swerve - and pressed on towards Lynmouth

The last stretch was perhaps the most scenic - or would have been on a nice day, with views stretching out across Lynmouth Bay. We finally bowled into Lynmouth about 5:00pm and were met by Roger and Kim who had spent the afternoon there. We managed to have a nice cup of Tea without encountering any Anaphalytic Poles and headed back to "The Great House" Timberscombe.

Another leg of the walk had been done - next up is to head back to Lulworth Cove and from there walk to Weymouth and around Portland Bill - I'll keep you posted .