At this point - I might mention that you won't see any photos from the first 2 hrs or so of my walk - as at the end of the day, when my camera card was full - I managed to delete them by mistake!!! - Plonker - first time I've done that - must have been tired.
Hartland Quay has an interesting past - it had been a working harbour up until the 19th Century and had 3 lime kilns and a Malt House. The amount of trade and commerce warranted opening a small bank which operated until 1833. The Inn has had several names over the years - and was once closed due to excessive drinking - I wasn't there - honest.
The first part of the walk to Speke's Mill Mouth - I had done before. After heavy rain - there is a dramatic waterfall here - but you only get a really good view of it from the beach - and with a long walk ahead of me - I didn't make the detour. Apparently - I would be crossing 8 valleys during the day's walk - all from high cliff points. The scenery over the whole stretch of North Devon has been splendid - and today was no exception - and infact I was soon to cross the border into Cornwall.
The first place to head for was Welcombe Mouth. On the way, I disturbed a Buzzard on it's prey - a rather mangled looking rat, I think - didn't examine it too closely.
The drop down to Welcombe Mouth and the valley of Strawberry Water was very steep. Welcombe Mouth was one of the few easily accessible parts of the coast on this stretch and there were some surfers getting ready to ride the waves.
A steep climb out of there and before I knew it - I was on the way down again towards Marsland Mouth and halfway down the path was a small stone building which my guide book assured me would be open and where water is provided daily! It was a seaside bolthole for the writer, poet and playwright, Ronald Duncan - known mostly for his work with Benjamin Britten and for being a staunch pacifist. In the early 1900's he set up a Co-operative farming enterprise near Welcombe - but this ultimately proved a failure. I might have got this information from his stone hut - but it was firmly CLOSED. 
At Marsland Mouth, a small bridge took you across the River Marsland - and you pass from Devon to Cornwall in a few strides. At Marsland Beach - there was yet another waterfall. For the next hour or so - it seemed just a succession of ups and downs to small mouths and included a long climb up to Henna Cliff - the second highest sheer cliff drop in England - second only to Beachy Head. Shortly I reached the turn off to Morwenstow - a small village with pub and cafe - but not open at this time of year. I knew I was about halfway to Bude at this point - some people split this section in to two and halt at Morwenstow. I was making good progress and felt particularly energetic for some reason. A little further on - there was a National Trust Sign pointing the way to "Hawkers Hut" This was a small hut made out of driftwood by the Reverend Hawker - the rector of Morwenstow Church in the 1830's - where he used to sit smoking Opium in quiet contemplation. Hawker was a legendary eccentric. He is known to have dressed up as a mermaid and excommunicated his cat for mousing on Sundays. He dressed in claret-coloured coat, blue fisherman's jersey, long sea-boots, a pink brimless hat and a poncho made from a yellow horse blanket. He frequently talked to birds, invited his nine cats into church and kept a huge pig as a pet.
Just a regular sort of guy - his main claim to fame was to be the man behind the institution of Harvest festivals.
The path zig zags on down to Tidna Shute before reaching Higher Sharpnose Point - where you could walk out on a very narrow path to have a superb view inland with outreaching views of large parts of the coast in both directions - see rain splattered panoramica below.
I had about an hour of light rain now - but just got my head down and pressed on. The steep descents and lung busting climbs seemed to go on and on. What made it worse was the condition of the paths which were often a quagmire - and made the walking even more difficult. Some of the paths were obviously used by horseriders - and with all the rain, they had churned them up. After a while - shortly after passing across a scenic valley known as Duckpool I was looking at a large stretch of sands which seemed to go the whole distance to Bude and I got the impression that the worst of the walk was over. This was Sandy Mouth - obviously a very popular spot confirmed by the National trust cafe and car park. It was a beautiful sight - the sands and waves rolling in and there were plenty of dog walkers taking advantage. The path passed along the grassy low cliffs behind and the walking was fortunately much easier. It was only another 3 miles to Bude now. The B&B that I had chosen was at Crooklets Bay which was on the Northern outskirts of Bude itself - and my walk for the day virtually ended at it's front door, which I was glad of. Before that - as I was stumbling down the path thinking of a hot bath - I bizarrely bumped into someone I knew - Steve Lewis from Fourway print - out walking his father's dog. I apologised for looking like a tramp - I had only just scraped myself off the path having completely lost my footing and sat down in a bog! At the hotel - I peeled off my boots and left them outside - an older couple were booking in at the same time - and the woman seemed quite appalled at the vision in front of her - Smelly wet socks - and a seatful of mud.
It was 15:30pm - I had done it in 7.5 hrs, so was quite pleased at that - and back well in time to have a good hot bath and still see England play Wales in the 6 Nations.
I was reminded that I was now in Cornwall - when I discovered that all the male members of staff were wearing black, below the knee shorts, white socks and trainers! - bizarre. The Bar was a good place to watch the rugby - and I stayed and enjoyed a decent meal. One resident at the bar took my attention - he was an old tramp of a man with long scruffy grey hair, but amazingly, with a bright red heart shaped bauble hanging from his straggly beard. He turned out to be the local village oddity - called George ( they are always called George) - and was obviously on the pull!
There was going to be a Valentines Disco, but unlike George, I wasn't up for that - and crashed out for an early night. 15 hard miles done - another 12 to do the next day.
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