SOUTHWEST COAST PATH REVIEWS: ACCOMMODATION AND FOOD

We’ve been back in Australia for over three weeks, now – a longer time than we were walking the Southwest Coast Path, although it doesn’t feel like it! There’s so much to do here, it’s so familiar, and the time seems at once to fly by and not to move at all. On the trail the rhythm was so steady, so regular that after a week we felt like we’d been walking forever. Before we forget, we have written up a list of highlights and lowlights, recommendations, tips, and things for us to think about next time we do a longer walk. Here is the first section about accommodation and food.

ACCOMMODATION

We stayed in B&B accommodation every night, and were lucky not to stop anywhere extraordinarily noteworthy for its badness. The least good of a good bunch were:
• Whiteways Guesthouse in Penzance. It was small, a bit noisy, and the breakfast was nothing to write home about, BUT it was also only 55 for a double, so we’re not complaining.
• Housel Bay Hotel on The Lizard. This was expensive, booking and confirming was a haphazard affair, and the room wasn’t special, BUT they had a very good breakfast and a lovely view from the dining area. And a bath.
• Rashleigh Arms at Charlestown. Also expensive, and we slept really badly due to the hotness and stuffiness of the room, BUT the room was luxuriously big, there was a gorgeous deep bath, the service was good and they made me a flat white for breakfast!
• Jago Cottage near Portloe. Nothing at all wrong with the accommodation, though it’s a bit of a hike from the path at the end of a long day, and you might not want to stay there if you don’t speak English!

Places that stood out as being excellent were:
• Copper Kettle in Porthleven. The hosts are friendly (we had conversations with people over breakfast who we kept in touch with over the walk) and knowledgable, the breakfast is good, and the packed lunch was enough to keep us going right through the day (we didn’t need dinner!). The rooms are also nice.
• Honeycombe House in Mevagissey. Again, the hosts are friendly, and we had one of the balcony rooms with absolutely spectacular views over the bay and harbour. The breakfast was also nice, although you’d be hard pressed to notice given the amazing vista out the breakfast room window!
• Chyavallon in Polperro. Friendly host, bright and clean room, lovely village, very delicious breakfast (strawberries and kiwifruit on the fruit platter, yum yum yum!)
• Parc-an-Grouse in St Keverne. Perhaps we liked this one mostly because we stayed two nights and had a chance to explore the area – the ponds, St Keverne village and Roskilly’s icecream dairy! However, the room, food and hosts were good and there was a lazy cat and a gorgeous old dog to pat.

Best breakfasts: Chyavallon, Housel Bay Hotel, Copper Kettle, Landrivick Farm (near Helford).

FOOD AND DRINK

We ate and drank our way through a wide selection of fare – some of it excellent, some of it too hideous to finish. We ate a lot of standard pub grub which is not what you would call inspired in its vegetarian options (J is vegetarian, D is not), and there were some nights we were too exhausted to contemplate leaving the room, so we dined on the biscuits from the coffee trays. There were, however, a few non-B&B food high- and low-lights, which we feel we should share. Let’s start with those things best avoided by future walkers!
• The fish in Fowey: from the takeaway shop on the quayside, this fish was at once watery, soggy, flavourless and rubbery. It was a genuinely unpleasant experience.
• The veggie burger at St Keverne. From Three Tuns Pub, this ‘burger’ was literally a fried veggie patty between two halves of a cardboard-tasting white bun – no cheese, no sauce, no pickle, and only a few bits of salad on the side. Luckily the chips were very good and there was some live music and interesting wall hangings to take one’s mind off the burger.
• The ‘oriental’ meal in Penzance. Can’t for the life of me remember what the place was called, but the food was fairly insipid, chips were on the menu, and the other patrons seemed to be giving us the stink-eye for being a same-sex couple. Fun times.
• The cider in Polperro. From Blue Peter, this cider was The Worst Cider I Have Ever Met. It was warm and flat (as was the beer), and tasted like rancid apple juice mixed with cow urine. Coupled with the ‘hilarious’ (read: sexist/stupid) sayings on the rafters, this is possibly our worst-of-the-walk.

And now onto those places that make your day better, the ones you remember nostalgically when stuck half-way up a horrible hillside without a food source in sight at 2pm a few days later. Heh.
• The pasty in Helford. From Down by the Riverside Café, the pasty was fresh and hot, with chunky filling and a crisp pastry. The cream tea was also noteworthy, with freshly cooked scones a perfect accompaniment to a sunny afternoon. The staff were also very friendly and helpful.
• The icecream and food at Roskilly’s, St Keverne. Could it get any better than watching an icecream making demonstration then heading to the café and buying cones with huge scoops of delicious creamy goodness? Yes, it can! If you go at lunch time, you could also have a meal with nutritious soup, crispy salad, and tasty vegetarian tart (not J!) in the courtyard.
• The meal at Citrus Café in Falmouth. After however many days of walking through places where vegetarian food consists of chips and salad and maybe soup, finding Citrus Café was an event to remember. Although not all the options are veg, there were many interesting dishes, like a walnut and blue cheese salad, goats cheese tart, a tasty moussaka, and cakes, cakes, cakes! The music and ambience was also lovely and cosy, and just slightly hippie.
• The Thai meal in Plymouth. Thai Palace was literally around the corner from our final B&B, and we thought we would treat ourselves to a nice meal. And it was a fantastic meal, with a wonderful balance of flavours and textures in every dish, good customer service, and – most surprisingly for me – a selection of tasty Thai wine. I had a rose, which proved so good that I had to have another glass. This was the best meal of our walk, and also far and away the most expensive!
• The hot chocolate at Life’s a Beach café in Maenporth deserves an honourable mention. It was exactly the sugar rush we needed at the time: Hot chocolate topped with whipped cream, dotted with marshmallows (vegetarians might like to ask for them to hold the gelatine), drenched with chocolate topping and finished with chocolate shavings.

HOME

We're home safe and sound after a loooong flight. Home! Our space, with our things, and our tea making accessories. Brilliant! Will write more later.

SOUTHWEST COAST PATH: FOWEY TO PLYMOUTH

Monday 28th September: Fowey to Polperro

All pics of the day

D had a large kipper for breakfast (stinky and tasty!), and J had lots of fruit and no cooked breakfast – you know what they say, a change is as good as a two week walking holiday. We were glad it was going to be a short walk, especially as everyone wanted to tell us that it would be a particularly strenuous stretch of coast and the guidebook described one section as having “severe gradients”. We jumped on the ferry to Polruan for the short crossing, and began the inevitable climb.







Despite the stunning views on offer, the most exciting sight that greeted us this morning was an inquisitive and ottery stoat! A STOAT! Hee! This was extra exciting because in Fowey we'd seen the house on which Toad Hall was based. To recover from this excitement, we stopped for a rest and a cup of tea at the lovely Lansallos Cove. J took the opportunity to de-boot, and for the first time this trip he dipped his feet in the sea. A group of walkers in their 70s showed up and had a thoroughly good time skimming stones; one of them even went for a swim, then rolled around on the stony beach to exfoliate.













After some upping and downing (steep, but with plenty of time to recover), we knew we were nearing civilisation – there was a dramatic increase in traffic passing us in both directions. We stopped for flap jacks and tea at the top of our last climb, and then arrived at Polperro at the ridiculously early time of 2.30. Polperro was a cute little village, even if it was full of tourists.







After checking into our B&B we explored the village for an hour or so, looking at art galleries, buying postcards, drinking the worst cider J has ever had the displeasure of encountering (seriously, it was warm and flat and like some horrid combination of off apple juice and cow urine!), sticky-beaking and scouting out potential venues for dinner. We found a number, but when we went back at 6:30 (the advertised start of dinner time) we discovered that pretty much every place was closed on Monday nights. We ended up at the Three Pilchards, which was inevitably quite crowded, and ordered our food: fish pie and mushroom stroganoff (J also got a glass of wine ON TAP!). A few minutes later, a nervous, awkward teenager in chef's uniform came over to us and announced that they were “out of the stroganoff”. J had “Luxury Burger” instead. Yes, that is what it was called. No, it didn't have turrets.



Tuesday 29th September: Polperro to Crafthole

All the photos!

An amazing breakfast greeted us in the morning – mountains of fresh fruit and nuts, home-made spreads, well-cooked and fresh hot food... a lovely start to what would be a long day. In fact, we decided that to play mind tricks on ourselves and make it more manageable, our walk would only officially start in Looe: the first 8kms of our journey would just be travelling to our real walk.



We started our not-walk by climbing out of Polperro past many, many benches, overgrown plots once used by residents as vegetable and flower gardens (the plots thicken...) and through Talland, where we first noticed the purple slate rocks in the cliffs. By the end of the day the colourful rocks had convinced J that a career in geology was calling.



In Hannafore we chatted with some walkers who were just finishing their stint on the path, and entering Looe we passed a statue commemorating Nelson, a bull seal who had been something of a celebrity in these parts – the inscription described him as being “a fine ambassador for his species”.





We came across the about-to-depart ferry (the boat, for those interested, was called Merlin), parted with the 40p each for the crossing and sailed over, saving ourselves several hundred yards of walking in the process. Well, maybe two hundred. After stocking up on food had coffee/tea and cake before commencing our walk proper. This, of course, began with a climb up a steep hill.



Millendreath, despite its fun-to-say Middle Earth-sounding name, was a bit of a dump. Its dominating feature was a run down old entertainment complex. It felt like the badlands, and we hurried on, even though our knees were not so keen. We approached a stretch of coast which our guide book described as “undulating”. We now know that “undulating” means “lots of upping and downing with no flat bits, which will lead to tired legs and sore feet”. However, there was some stunning scenery (as well as a dead mole, which was not so nice). There was a monkey sanctuary marked on the map, but no monkeys were forthcoming.

After all that upping and downing, what we really wanted was a nice flat stretch on soft, even ground. Imagine our joy, then when what we got was a steep descent from close to the highest point on the South Cornish coast into Seaton (on sea level) on steps (ow, my knees) and then tarmac (ow, my feet). We sat in a park and took off our shoes, eating food, drinking drink, and watching the many ducks, seagulls and jackdaws amusing themselves around us. From Seaton to Downderry, there was a choice of routes: up a hard road or across the beach. The beach is not passable at high tide, but the tide was just going out so we decided to risk it. It was mostly easy walking and J further developed his purple rock geology obsession before we had to scramble across large boulders to avoid the lapping waves.









Passing a sign warning naturists to keep away from the school, we left the beach, and zigzagged our way up to the second highest point on the South Cornish coast, stepping gingerly over a small snake as we went. Topping one hill, we looked up to see Plymouth in the distance, gleaming white in the sunshine. It was our first sight of our final destination, as well as of the sun (for that day).



We rested our weary bodies, and ate a chocolate bar, and set off to brave the path as it edged its unfenced way along the cliff edge and into the delightfully named Portwrinkle.





From here it was another 2km inland along hard roads towards Crafthole, and slowly, hobbling in agony, we approached our destination (“206 yards ahead”, the sign announced, rather specifically).



At the Liscawn, we ate until we were full (J finally got his mushrom stroganoff), opened our desert stomachs for strawberry gateaux, limped to our room, and embraced sleep.

Wednesday 30th September: Crafthole to Plymouth – THE FINAL DAY!!!

Pics, pics, pics

Over breakfast this morning, we came up with an invention that will change the world of breakfast forever: a battery-powered toast rack that keeps your toast warm! No more cold toast in the mornings!



Usually, road walking is neither particularly interesting nor fun, but this morning the road in question went passed a military training facility, and we saw many exciting warning signs (“Do not touch military debris. IT MAY EXPLODE AND KILL YOU”) which makes other warning signs seem, frankly, dull.



We also heard gun fire exploding around us, but we figured that they just played a loop CD of gun noises to keep inquisitive walkers and spies at bay. What we didn't see (honestly, guv) were all the cleverly camouflaged soldiers, jeeps and tanks hanging around the grounds.



We stopped shortly after this for some refreshments, and chatted to a couple who were impressed by the amount of sweat on our backs, before starting our walk (we tried the same trick as yesterday to break up the day). Today's walk, however, began with the path playing a nasty trick on us – the acorned waymark pointed us away from the road, steeply down a footpath towards the cliffs, before immediately (and again steeply) bringing us right back up to the road! We were not impressed, and were even less happy when it did EXACTLY THE SAME THING AGAIN almost immediately afterwards!





But we could see Rame Head getting closer – we'd been able to see it in the distance since the week before – and it was relatively easy walking up to the 600 year old chapel and the obligatory iron age fort (“No walker will be surprised,” says our book, when they find the ithsmus ditched and banked). It was another clear day, and we could see for miles and miles in each direction. There were expansive views behind us of headlands we had conquered, and headlands we hadn't (and wouldn't!) ahead of us. It was a nice spot to eat an incredibly healthy mix of different kinds of sweet things – hot chocolate, fudge, cake (we shared a carrot as well, so that's all right) – for lunch.








After poking around the hollow chapel, we headed off to Penlee Point, where we stopped for another break, because J had forgotten to remove his shoes at our lunch stop, and wished to rectify the situation as soon as possible.

On the other side of a sycamore wood, we found the twin towns of Cawsand and Kingsand (the former site of the Cornish/Devon border) then entered the Mount Edgcumbe Country Park, a large parkland of woods, gardens, deer enclosures, manor houses and follies. Follies are hilarious, the end.









We sat on a bench by a manicured lawn, overlooking the bay and Plymouth, drinking tea and airing feet. The path took us through some woods, but the route had been diverted at one point, due to a landspill, up a section of the woods referred to by the locals as “the Zigzag”. It was, as we soon discovered, aptly named. Much climbing, followed by much decending, took its toll on our knees and feet. Fortunatley after this point the path was almost universally and deliciously flat and we hobbled on through the formal gardens, past the estate house and up to the ferry port where we waited for about 10 minutes for the boat to arrive, talking to a group of people who had sped past us in the park earlier on.





Despite being incredibly tired, we felt a wave of elation as we left Cornwall behind: we had walked along its southern coast in its entirety. On arriving in Plymouth, we were greeted by a stencilled wall reading “POWSAWS AGAS DYNNARGH. WELCOME TO ENGLAND.” Definitely not in Cornwall any more!



That evening we celebrated with a very delicious and very expensive meal at The Thai Palace (the most delicious (for J) and expensive of the whole walk), drank Thai wine and beer, and proclaimed that if that was a 250km/150mi walk then we had done it.

They all drank lemonade. The End.

MINI UPDATE

Hello! We've back in London, and we'll be updating soon. I'm also uploading photos at flickr and adding them to old posts as I get through them, so if you scroll down to the first SWCP post you will see some photos of the first day!

SOUTHWEST COAST PATH: PORTLOE TO FOWEY

Thursday 24th September: Portloe – Mevagissey

Pics, pics, pics

Let's start with the positive things about breakfast: fresh, well-cooked eggs, lemon curd, fresh pineapple. The fact that two German women were at breakfast would be neither here nor there apart from the bit where our host appeared to be from the Basil Fawlty school of talking to foreigners: “This is pineapple. Pine – apple. PIIIIINE. APPELLLL.” Oh my goodness. We left the breakfast table shortly thereafter and made our escape back down to Portloe and the coast path.







We foolishly decided to wait to Portholland to buy food (we didn't have a packed lunch), and after quite a scramble through the humid and still morning air, we arrived dripping with sweat to find the promised shop gone, the post office closed, and the toilets only operating because a volunteer had fought the good fight and maintained them without council support. Never mind, we thought, surely there is a kiosk at the carpark and beach near Caerhays Castle. We made the short, pleasant walk around to the cove to find that yes, there was a kiosk. It was also closed. We sat on the grass, drank our tea and ate the biscuits filched from the B&B coffee tray as our nemesisises from the previous day clattered past with their walking poles. We then purchased the castle as it seemed like a good one to add to our collection.



It was a steep climb, then a descent involving our least favourite thing (tarmac roads) to Hemmick Beach. We threw ourselves on the wall beside a holidaying couple and chatted for a while. They told us about all their misadventures in the motorhome they'd built from scratch and showed us the edible watercress growing in the stream (J took his shoes off and paddled over to pick some – any excuse to have a splash around, really!).



When they heard about our foodless plight, they gave us a couple of bananas and some chocolate coated digestive biscuits to help us on our way. They have our undying gratitude! We then marched up to the head of Dodman Point (the Dodman), given to the National Trust in 1919. We crossed the iron age earthwork named on the map as 'Bulwark', and wondered at the number of swallows flying about the place – eating the plague of tiny insects and dive-bombing a bird.



When we got to the cross at the top of the headland, another couple told us that the swallows had been chasing a young Peregrine Falcon – one that they'd seen as a juvenile the year before/earlier this year. Cool! We ate our bananas and admired as much of the view as we could see through the swarm of insects, then began the walk to Gorran Haven.







This bit was very beautiful, but I was quite sore in the foot department so we stopped for tea above Vault Beach, then pressed on to Gorran Haven for much-needed icecreams and chocolate. I was so, so, so tired, and unfortunately the next section involved walking very close to the edges of some high cliffs, at which point the fear of (falling from) heights I usually manage to keep under some control came bubbling to the surface, and the first actual tears of the walk fell. It's not nice, that feeling that the ground is moving under your feet, tipping you towards the edge – especially when you logically know that the ground is not moving but that the way you are walking is probably erratic and therefore you're more likely to fall anyway. ARGH!

We had to stop twice again before reaching Mevagissey (once at Portmellon, but the wait was worth it! We checked in to Honeycombe House to find that we'd been given a room with a balcony and a spectacular view of the harbours, the village, and the coastline stretching right the way around to the north-east. We also had binoculars! A+++, would stay again!



We hobbled down to the village and I had a meal composed almost entirely of vegetables at Quay West (what is the Cornish obsession with fajitas?)

Friday 25th September: Mevagissey to Charlestown.

Photos of the day

Fun facts: Mevagissey (called Meva by the locals and people who want to seem down with the locals) comes from the names of two saints (if my memory serves me correctly), Meva and Issey – in Cornish, Meva hag Issey. Charlestown is named after Charles Rashleigh, china clay entrepreneur, who's business took the village's population from 9 to 3000 between 1790 and 1850. Another fun fact: this was meant to be a short and pleasant daywalk. It was quite pleasant, but it involved CONSTANT ascents and descents, and a 1 ½ mile detour along tarmac roads at the end, so it wasn't as easy as one might expect a 12km walk to be!

We woke up to the sun rising across the ocean, spilling orange light into our room. We hung around on the balcony for a bit before and after having breakfast in the stunning sunroom (OMG THE VIEWS, THE VIEWS!).



Because this was a short walk, we wandered through the town for a bit, buying postcards, fudge, iron tablets, carrots and raspberries. It was tempting to take the boat to Fowey (where we'd be staying in 2 days time), but instead we began with the first of many, many steep climbs.







We headed through Pentewan (Pent Ewan, rather than Penty Wan – although I prefer our pronunciation), past a few cats and a man on his knees weeding his white stone front 'garden', then went up a hill and down a hill and up a hill and down a hill and J was sitting around with his boots off (fixing his socks) when an old guy asked us the way to Pentewen, and sped past us. We did some more upping and downing, passed a very cute little cottage in a little cove at the edge of a small wood. It had sculptures in the garden and a little stream running past. We didn't buy this one – I fear the hills may have clouded our judgement!




The cottage was just to the right of frame here.

We stopped for lunch at Black Head, an iron age fort set on a small hill at the end of a ditch-and-banked isthmus, and had our first full view of Charlestown.





Despite the threat of rain, we didn't see much in the way of moisture. Still, we popped the overs on our packs and, inspired by the apparent proximity, we set off refreshed. We went down a hill and up a hill and spoke to some other walkers (who were impressed by our packs but turned their noses up at our anti-camping ways) and went down and up a HUGELY STEEP VALLEY and stopped at the top and were OVERTAKEN BY THE OLD GUY FROM EARLIER IN THE DAY OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?









We stopped in Porthpean (Porth PEEN! AHAHAHA!) for a toilet break (LOL), then went up another fucking hill to the start of the inland diversion, which continued to take us up the hill ON TARMAC. AND THEN! THEN! Where we were meant to turn back to the coast, THE ROAD WAS CLOSED and we thought we were going to have to make ANOTHER DETOUR. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! But we didn't, thankfully, and we arrived at our inn tired and sore and rather shellshocked after a day much harder and longer than we'd anticipated. The room, despite my fears, was great: loads of space, and (glory, glory, hallelujah!) A BATH!!! You can bet your bottom dollar that having a bath was the first thing we did! You have NO IDEA how good it was!



Saturday 26th September: Charlestown to Fowey

Photos of the day ... like soup of the day.

After a bad night's sleep (the room was so stuffy and hot, the fan provided was so noisy, the windows hardly opened, and one of them opened onto the noisy air conditioning unit for the whole establishment!), J had another bath and then we tumbled down to an early breakfast, where D had scrambled eggs with a MOUNTAIN of smoked salmon. We checked out the old boats in the harbour (they use it for period dramas and films, so they say), and climbed out of Charlestown.



I don't mind telling you that I (J) was in a very bad mood – fed up enough with fucking walking that had a bus passed us to Fowey, I would have got on it without a doubt. Luckily, the walking was easy past a golf course and some (ex?) china clay works (it goes into paper and toothpaste, you know), through a caravan park and across a beach to The Ship Inn (one of about 48 we have encountered on this walk) where we had a pint of lemonade each and goggled at the fact you could get wine on tap!









We decided that if we were to walk this far again, we would try to schedule a rest day every fifth day (i.e. 4 days of walking, 1 day off) because going for 6 days in a row is just too exhausting – not necessarily physically, but mentally. We also talked a bit about what our next walks might be. We're keen to finish off the Thames Path (we could probably fit in a couple of days when we're next over) and the Ridgeway, but not so much the SWCP – maybe a little at a time over many years! We'd also like to walk some less well-publicised or big name paths – trying something like the Hertfordshire Way rather than a National Trail might make the trip a bit more of an exploration rather than a tour. Even better, we could design our own!

From Par, it was a quick walk over to Polkerris where we stopped for a pasty and watched some people standing on surfboards and rowing themselves around a series of bouys (fun? Maybe. Funny? Definnitely).





Then it was on to Gribbin Head and the red and white striped daymark we'd first sighted two days before. We stopped for a tea break and had a chat to a few daywalking birdspotters we'd passed earlier. There were a lot of day walkers on this stretch, mostly toting copies of the same short walks in Cornwall book. We have decided that we should approach Jarrold to market these to teh gays – covers in bright pink, ratings from stiletto (high femme/queen) to lace-up boots (daddy/biker butch) – with the title Short Minces in Cornwall. I THINK THIS IS A BRILLIANT IDEA AND I SEE NOTHING PROBLEMATIC WITH IT AT ALL.







In Polridmouth, we spotted another house for those who requested property. The only problem with this one is that you'll get hundreds of Daphne du Maurier fans traipsing past to get a look at the cottage that inspired her novel 'Rebecca'.





From there it was a pleasant (though not flat!) walk into Fowey, watching the sailboats out to sea and stopping by the ruins of St Catherine's Castle for a rest. We knew when we'd reached the town because nobody smiled or greeted us (or returned our smiles or greetings) any more. We've become total country bumpkins, apparently.





We found our accommodation without difficulty, and discovered that our room . . . HAD A BATH!!! so we had baths! Whee! They also quite kindly let us do our washing and drying, which we did while watching Merlin and while out for dinner, respectively. Mmm, clean clothes are grand!

Sunday 27th September: Fowey to . . . FOWEY!!!



DAY OFF!!! WHEE!!! Had bath! Ate breakfast late! Had a gentle stroll (NOT A WALK) around Fowey! WENT ON A BOAT RIDE!!! Saw a kingfisher! Saw a house bought by a man who doesn't want his name mentioned, “So I'll mention his wife, Dawn French”! Bought postcards! Looked in a bookshop! Lolled about! Had a nap! Read the internet! Ate the most disappointing meal of the trip! Sat in lovely gardens, accompanied by the smell of illicit substances! Found a nice cafe! Drank drinks! Rested! Wrote this crap for you to read (I hope you appreciate our dedication)!



NOW. Please excuse us, we're going to watch some TV! Probably 'Coast', because we haven't seen enough of it (and we certainly haven't seen Nicholas Crane – I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED, ENGLAND)!

SOUTHWEST COAST PATH: ST KEVERNE TO PORTLOE

Hello!!! Transmission coming from Fowey (pronounced Foy), where the place we are staying tonight and tomorrow night has wi-fi. Yay! Here is a blog detailing the first half of our week - we will endeavour to bring you up-to-date tomorrow. In short: still having a good time, still very tired and glad we have a day off tomorrow! We are thinking of going on a cruise up the river - NO WALKING INVOLVED, PLEASE!!! As predicted, I have very shapely legs and a portly belly from strenuous walking combined with enormous breakfasts (strenuous eating!), but what nobody predicted was the TAN we would both get! Hilariously, we are darker on our right arms than our left because our right arms are usually facing the sun (south in the day time - weird!!!). Anyway, again no pictures, but I'm sure you can use your imagination or wait for a week or so until we upload the 1000+ photos to flickr!

***

Sunday 20th September: St Keverne

All photos of the day.



How good is a day off? Pretty fucking awesome! Slept in, had clothes washed and dried for us (OMG, SO GOOD), didn't wear boots or socks all day, didn't pack our bags up, didn't go outside until after 10am . . . WONDERFUL! The weather was sunny as we strolled into the village to the sound of church bells.



We bought the essentials: Roskilly's fudge and a razor for J (the first one he's ever bought himself!) because he was looking scruffy.



Our book showed us a bit of the area so we followed a footpath out of the village and to the farm and creamery where all the Roskilly's icecream is made. That's local for you! There was a demonstration of icecream making later in the afternoon, so we toddled back to the B&B via the Ponds – a countryside stewardship area, and very beautiful.



The walk turned out a bit longer than expected as we got a bit lost (well, we didn't get to a gate out for a while, and when we did it was into someone's paddock!), but we had fun. We saw an old waterwheel (what a wheel!), had a very friendly moorhen come right up to say hello, and stomped on some apples. STOMPITY STOMP.



Then we went back to see the icecream demo, had a nice chat to the person doing it (it was her last day, so we got icecream with extra treats in it, shhhh!), ate delicious lunch, then got ENORMOUS 3 SCOOP ICECREAMS and nommed them in the afternoon sunshine all the way back home.



We patted the cat and the rickety dog, retired to our room and watched the repeat of Merlin from the night before (wow, I don't think I needed to see that much of Bradley James' chest, oh well). IT WAS A GENIUS DAY.



Monday 21st September: St Keverne to Helford

Give us this day our daily photos



Today was meant to be a pretty easy day, and it's true that it was easier than much of the previous week (although we walked about 15km, the distance between B&Bs must have only been about 6km by road). We followed secluded inland footpaths to Porthallow (Pralla), where we saw a dead badger on the road – it's sad for me, because that's the first badger I've ever seen.





From Porthallow, the route was diverted straight back inland due to a cliff fall, following footpaths and byways through fields, past crops and pastures. We joined the coast halfway to the Gillan Creek crossing, and it was really nice to have a day doing less sea-coast walking (variety is good! There is only so many times you can look at another headland or cove and say “Wow! Stunning!”)





We got to the creek an hour or so before low tide, so we sat with a German walker (Hannah) and watched the tide rush out. A woman on horseback with dog in tow showed us the stepping stones and recommended we paddle the creek downstream instead. After watching her ford the creek there, we decided to follow her advice, taking off our boots and hanging them around our necks, rolling up our leggings, donning our sandals/thongs, and wading in. The tide was going out fast! J almost lost his thong a few times, and the sand on the opposite side was very sucky and squidgy, but we made it! It was so much fun!!!







After hosing ourselves down, re-booting and saying goodbye to H, we had a quick look in the church and then headed up to the point (Dennis Head or Little Dennis?) between Gillan Creek and Helford. We had a chat to an old couple (with enviously huge mugs of tea) about the headlands we could see in the distance – perhaps we could see all the way to Rame Head, which we will pass on our last day!



We also passed a field with a lot of corn in it. In fact, it was a wall of corn, and some of you may be interested to know that it was this field that gave Cornwall its name.



The walk to Helford was quite nice, through woodlands and small valleys, with glimpses of the estuary through the trees. We stopped at Down by the River Cafe, where we posted our last entry! Highly recommended, as the scones were good and D had the best pasty of the trip so far!





From there, we walked into the village and then out through a lovely wooded valley and some fields to Landrivick Farm, where Linda greeted us with tea and cupcakes!





Soon after we arrived, two walkers we'd met at the Copper Kettle in Porthleven rocked up. Linda booked us all a table at the Manaccan pub, we wandered down there in the evening for a nice meal and a chat, and got picked up in the car and driven home. . . It was the first time we'd been in a car since we'd left London. I soon had to ask Linda to drive me back down, though, because I'd left my jumper behind. How embarrassment! On the way down, Linda talked about how much she enjoys farming, and told me her dad always said, “A contented mind is a continual feast”. I like that.



Tuesday 22nd September: Manaccan/Helford to Falmouth

Pictorial proof



After a breakfast of fresh farm produce (and local pork sausages that D still thinks are the best of the holiday), we wandered down into Helford. Here we got to call the ferry over by opening up the board so a big orange circle could be seen from the other side of the river. We ate a carrot as we waited for the boat to chug across, and were serenaded by a friendly little robin in the bushes behind us. The ferryman told us we were the first passengers of the day (“It's mainly walkers at this hour”), and answered our joking question about catching a lift to Falmouth with a wistful, “I wish!”





On the other side we passed a couple of lovely gardens and estates, and a few more houses for our growing collection of wish-list properties. We walked very, very far. But then we realised we'd only come about half as far as we'd thought. There is nothing more disheartening to a flagging walker who wishes they could be having another day off, let me tell you!







But we eventually made it to Rosemullion head, with its view of the Fal estuary, and ate a chocolate bar in the sunshine, watching a tiny little boat scamper between the enormous ships looming in the bay. We decided that this point should have a sculpture of us/two walkers resting on their backpacks enjoying the scenery. Any takers? I got to enjoy this view a second time when, about half a km further along the walk I realised I'd left the camera behind, and had to dump my bag with D and run back to get it. I almost felt fit for a moment there!

At Maenporth we limped across the carpark to Life's a Beach cafe, and drank the best hot chocolate I've had since those ones in Amsterdam (ahem). They were sweet and very hot and topped with: a mountain of whipped cream studded with marshmallows (D ate all the ones from mine that hadn't already melted), drizzled with a caramel topping and 'dusted' with a thick layer of chocolate sprinkles. GENIUS. We followed them with chips and burgers and felt very healthy.



We pointedly ignored the bus stop and started the final leg to Falmouth. It was lucky we didn't catch the bus, because a few minutes later we saw a TEENY TINY VOLE!!! It scurried right up to D's boot and then on its busy way along the footpath and into the undergrowth. SO CUTE!


you can just see its tail!



Eventually we made it to Swanpool, a kind of outer suburb of Falmouth, and decided to postpone the walk right around the head until after we'd checked in, showered and changed, because our legs and feet and minds were pretty tired. Upon leaving the B&B (The Observatory), we hobbled down the main road towards Pendennis Castle (unfortunately we were there just on closing time, so no admittance) and around the headland, thus completing the days walk.





We did so in shorts and thongs/sandals, and forgot our raincoats, so of course we got wet . . . but it wasn't really rain, it was more of a fine mist that floated around attaching itself to the hairs on your arms and not making you damp until you tried to brush it off.





For dinner we stumbled across Citrus Cafe, with a specials board full of vegetarian options!!! We stuffed ourselves with vegetarian goodness and looked out over the harbour as a flock of white triangled sailing boats went out and came back across the grey, misty harbour. It was pretty special, even after we noticed the unobtrusive rack of Watchtower magazines in the corner. “Please take one”, it said. We didn't.



That night we had glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, and a loud circus across the road. I made up a rhyme: Poor little Jonathan, so put-upon-athan! This rhyme has served us well.



Wednesday 23rd September: Falmouth to Portloe

All photos of the day

This was really the start of the second half of our walk. We began the day by symbolically posting the first guidebook back to London (along with a novel and some bits and pieces collected along the way), then wandering down to the pier and catching a ferry across the broad Fal River (no need to summon the ferry here, it runs every half an hour!) past St Mawes Castle (in the shape of a clover leaf), running around the tiny pier at St Mawes and catching the littlest ferry yet to Place.



Once there we had a nice long look around St Anthony's church (“the finest example of what a parish church might have looked like in the 12th century”) and then cutting off the first, hard looking mile of the walk by taking a series of other footpaths across country. We are no longer concerned with “cheating”, apparently!





There were a couple of other walkers on both ferries, and they finally deigned to talk to us when we were on the second leg. Mind you, there was plenty of other stuff going on during the first ride to keep us occupied – first D lost the stylus for his phone (we considered it a donation to the gods of Fal for a safe journey) and then there was some chef talking to the ferryman about the ferryman's brother in law who was also a chef . . . the cheffing world seems very small and name-droppy. Anyway, we totally beat the very serious, serious, SERIOUS walkers into Portloe. Kind of. Yay for shortcuts!



It was quite easy walking the first half of the day, and despite the very light drizzle and J taking a dive on the slippery rocks in Portscatho, it was quite enjoyable. The second guidebook is shaping up to be much more appealing than the first as it uses words such as “beguiling” - although it did fall into the “unspoilt” trap when describing Portloe!




Beguiling?

We met some people before lunch who were gathering blackberries and what they called Cornish Sorrel, a green leaf that is good in salads or lightly steamed, which has a sour, citrus-y flavour.



We picked a few leaves of our own as we walked down into Paradoe (pron. Prada) Cove (or Tregagle's Hole on the OS map), and we added them to our packed sandwiches as we rested in the remains of an old fisherman's cottage. Lovely.





Not so lovely was the following climb onto Nare Head, although once there the next leg of our walk opened up before us, bathed in sunshine. Behind us, we could see TWO sets of hills – I'd almost forgotten that more of England exists than the coast and its immediate surrounds! Unfortunately, there were a few more climbs that really took it out of us, but we stopped again for tea (and so D could rub J's sore, purple feet) to break the journey.


The one on the right has been rubbed back to life...

A continuously surprised-looking partridge led us into Portloe (“Humans! I shall escape them along this secret footpath! Ah-ha! I've foiled them by going around the corner! OMG! HUMANS! How did they get here onto this footpath? I'd better run away!”).



We dearly wished that the accommodation in town had not been booked out for months and months and months as we followed a few footpaths and laneways to where our B&B, Jago Cottage, was meant to be (according to Google Maps). It wasn't there, but when we knocked on a random door, the occupants helpfully pointed us a couple of hundred metres up the road. There, the host's children let us in (“Mum's just out at the moment!”) and we collapsed – too tired to even contemplate going anywhere for dinner.

SOUTHWEST COAST PATH: LANDS END TO ST KEVERNE

We are sitting in a cute cafe in Helford – it's in an old church, next to the carpark... non-residents are not allowed to take their cars into the village. It's been an easy walk, with a few inland detours where coastal routes were not available or there had been cliff falls. The highlight of the day was the crossing of Gillan Creek, which we had to time for low tide and paddle across! Yesterday we had an amazing and restful day off, eating icecream and lazing about . . . BUT! Here is our journal for the first 5 days of our walk. Pictures will probably not follow until we're back in London, sorry! So you can read this now without photos or in two weeks with photos added.

Tuesday 15th September

All photos of the day

This was the day where every leg of our journey took relatively longer and longer. E&L left for Israel in the morning, and probably got there before we got to Land's End! The train to Plymouth was lovely, took about 3 hours and went through some gorgeous scenery – especially the coastal railway section – thank you, IK Brunel! Trains are fun! You pay less money and get more room than on an aeroplane. The stations got smaller and smaller, so that we thought we might have to take a running jump from a moving train just to get off!



From Plymouth we took another train to Penzance, over a another IK Brunel construction. This trip took a further 2 hours, and we both had little naps. In Penzance, we got pasties and chips,and waited for the bus to take us to Lands End.



The bus. Ah, the bus! It was a double decker bus that took us down every laneway in west Cornwall – down roads that you wouldn't think would fit a double decker bus, let alone a lorry coming in the opposite direction. It was meant to take us 50 minutes to get to lands end. It took us an hour and a half. However, it was hard to be angry at the bus, because we were rather thankful to still be alive. Also, the scenery was rather special.


Us and the bus!




The obligatory shots!


As close as we ever got to Nicholas Crane. Sadface.

Once we made it through the bizarre theme park (including giant tardis), Land's End is actually a very beautiful spot.



However, we didn't have much time to enjoy it, as it was almost 5pm, and we had 8kms to walk with heavy packs before sunset at 7.15. So off we set – the beginning off Our Walk! We noticed then,and have continued to notice as we've gone on, that it is nice to be out at that time of the day, as we largely had the path to ourselves – most of the serious walkers having reached their destinations already, and the Lands End tourists not venturing too far from the car park.


I wonder why? Hmm...









Signs for the Minack Theatre were a welcome sight as we approached 7pm, until we noticed the decent into Porthcurno – down a sheer cliff next to the Theatre, with rough, steep steps, and nothing to hold on to (J says that this description does not fully bring home the horror of the situation, and other people with a healthy respect for heights will know what he means).



Breathing an exhausted sigh of relief, we reached the bottom, and headed up into Porthcurno itself (where the bus had passed some three hours hence). We had tickets for a production of The Mikado at the Minack that evening, but came very close to not going. In the end, we made it up, but left at the interval – it was cold and windy, we were tired, sick and achy, and J had forgotten how racist the play is. We headed down the hill in almost total darkness, and paid a visit to the pub,where we excitedly ordered and ate a jacket potato each. It came with salad! Then came the sweet relief of sleep.

Wednesday 16th September

All photos of the day

Breakfast at Sea View B&B (fairly standard place, notable only for the teddy bears on the beds). We chatted to our new nemesisisisis – some walkers from USA/Canada (all in their 60s and 70s, and already been going 11 days). We ended up seeing them every day until our rest day on Sunday. I tell you what, if we are that fit when we're 70-something I will eat my hat. Their style of walking is very serious business, though, so they were constantly overtaking us as we sat down for morning tea or afternoon tea or lunch or second lunch or a 4 o'clock mystery meal. In conclusion: we take a lot of breaks!









And we needed them! At the end of the day we agreed that this had been the hardest day of walking we'd done, ever. There were a lot of steep ascents and descents! The first half of the day is a blur of hills, steps that have worn away, and spectacular views. Every time we rounded another headland we could see the next point – and all the while the Lizard slipping faintly out to sea on the horizon.



E lent us her bird and flower books, which was awesome. The weird little white flowers growing out of egg-shaped bases are called bladder campion (?), and one of the bright pink flowers is another kind of campion. The mystery berries of which we have eaten handfuls are blackberries. Heh. Well I didn't need a book to tell me that!

Passed through one valley the guidebook described as “totally unspoilt”. We used their toilet. Next valley described as “even more unspoilt”. Even more than totally?They didn't even have a toilet! They were both pretty stunning. “Unspoilt” has become our catch-all descriptor for this walk (“Look at this quarry! Totally unspoilt!”)



St Michael's Mount was in view for the 2nd half of the day, standing there in the bay, looking speccy. The end of the day took us through Mousehole (heehee...pronounced 'mowzel') where we had hot chocolate as we sat in the little port. Mousehole might be a nice spot, for those of you who have asked us to find locations for your new houses.



Then we went through Newlyn where we stopped in a small, friendly local pub (for local people) for beer/cyder, and got chatting to a couple on next table, on holiday from the West Midlands. Lovely.





It was all (mostly) flat street walking from Mousehole, and it flashed by. We arrived in PZ at about 5:30 (it was a 19km walk), eventually found our confusingly-addressed B&B, checked in, showered, changed, went out for a meal (“oriental”, serving chips and ice cream cake), came home exhausted and achy, and slept through the noise of the busy road (D is obsessed with its name: Market Jew St, coming from “Thursday Market”) below our window.

Thursday 17th September

Pics of the day can be found here!

We started the day making quick progress over a flat, concreted path running alongside the beach. Other than the striking St Michael's Mount and the rabbit-filled Marazion Marsh, it was a fairly uninspiring stretch of the walk. If we were to do it again, we would probably take a bus from Penzance to Marazion, and use the extra time and energy to climb up St Michael's Mount. The Mount is, I suppose, a semi-detached island, accessible at low tide via a causeway. It used to be a Benedictine priory, then a fortress, then a port for exporting tin and copper. It now rises upout of the bay, topped by some old buildings remodelled by the Victorians. As we walked towards it, we could only see a silhouette, as the morning sun was rising behind it.



Soon after Marazion, we stopped for morning tea on a rocky beach and were passed by the North Americans. We then passed them on their tea break, and continued along the tops of the cliffs, over green hills and looking out over the blue, blue sea.





We climbed one hill to be greeted with an amazing view of where we had just walked, and were passed once again by the Americans. We walked with one of them for a while and he told us that he'd walked the Appalacian trail (I think he said it was 2000 miles?!) over a few years, including one five-month stint. Holy moly!



Prussia Cove was a highlight of the day. As you walk towards it, you can look down onto the bay, where smugglers' carts cut deep ruts across the rocks (see above). Just off the beach, we walked past Porth en Alls, the base for the international musicians seminar masterclasses, and piano music wafted past us on the summer breeze. It would have been nice to stay a while, but we were both getting sore and tired and well aware that we still had a long way to go!


Toadflax, I think.



We stopped for lunch overlooking Praa Sands by Sydney Cove (above). The beach stretched out for quite a distance – a marked difference from most of the other tiny coves we have passed on this trip. It could have been Sydney! We both de-shoed (un-shod), ate carrots, bagels and hummous, reclined on the grassy slope . . . lovely! The path behind the beach became a little confusing, but a friendly (if rather toothsomely challenged) man pointed out the way. When he heard we were from Australia he shouted incredulously, “What are you doing here?!” We responded with identical gestures and the reply, “It's beautiful!”


wheal prosper engine house, which we passed that afternoon.


another engine house - unusually white.

After this, the day becomes a bit of a blur to me – there were a few old engine houses that we stopped at for a break, but mainly I remember PAIN, stiflingly warm air, MORE PAIN, the sun glaring off the sea, the pack getting heavier, my feet getting sorer, and the persistent belief that I was going to cause a landslide, fall off the cliffs, and die. Fuck you very much guidebook – as if it wasn't enough to read the signs on every cliff “WARNING! UNSTABLE CLIFFS!” and to see the places where the stone walls have fallen into the ocean, you have to make it abundantly clear: “Take notice of any cracks opening up in the path”. SHUT UP! I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!!! My constant mantra for the afternoon was, “Just pretend it's not there. It's OK. Just pretend it's not there.”




D encouraging me!

Luckily, our B&B in Portleven (The Copper Kettle) was AMAZING. The room was huge, the hosts friendly, and we had bathrobes! After a bit of a rest, we hauled ourselves off around the tiny harbour for dinner (it was curry night everywhere, apparently!).



We agreed that this 23km was the hardest day of walking we'd ever done. We were beginning to sense a theme.

Friday 18th September

Photos from the day.

The day began well at the Copper Kettle, with much chatting with other guests – two of whom were walking little sections of the coast path – and PANCAKES! Om nom nom. We were handed our packed lunches . . . OH. MY WORD. They were HUGE. In fact, we didn't even need to get dinner that night, because we were still eating them! The breakfast made a nice change from the standard breakfast fare here. I have thought of a business plan: there seems to be money in making good coffee for Australians in London (see: Flat White, Taylor St cafes, etc), so maybe there is money in making horrible, bland, greasy breakfasts for English people in Melbourne. “Tired of seeing green things on your breakfast plate? Sick of herbs and spices? Come to [NAME], where the most exciting thing you'll taste is the HP Sauce!” Genius.





After a clear start, the day was overcast and a bit cooler. Basically, we could recount this day to you framing it entirely using toilet stops. J's first toilet break was two blocks from the B&B (where he had also availed himself of the facilities). The next PC (public convenience) marked on the map was not for another few miles, so he went again near the appropriately named Loe – this is a lake, cut off from the sea by a bar of gravelly sand (the Loe Bar).


The Loe



We cut inland at one point, avoiding Halzephron Cliff (meaning CLIFF OF HELL cliff), and taking a shortcut to Winwaloe/Gunwalloe Church – Church of the Storms. This was a solitary little place tucked in behind a hulk of hill, protected from much of the weather. We had a snack stop, D used the PC and bought a postcard (which I lost later in the day) and headed around the next headland to Poldhu Cove and Point, where Marconi's wireless station was located, and some more PCs were used by J.





We lunched at Mullion Cove, which is very picturesque and unspoilt. We watched a goose follow a couple around like a dog for a bit, and a dog be completely uninterested in going anywhere near the goose (the goose was probably the larger creature). J used the PCs at Mullion Cove, and we pressed on.





MY LEGS WERE SORE. MY FEET WERE SORE. There was no access to public transport or even to many roads along this section of the walk. It was difficult, and it felt very isolated. Then we were overtaken by a man in jeans and a business shirt carrying a bag of shopping, his jumper thrown casually over his shoulder in the style of a catalogue model. There was also a cyclist who spent most of his time carrying his bike up and down hills.FULE.

At soap rock (an old soapstone quarry, now grown over with grass, and looking very unspoilt) we stopped for first afternoon tea. I dipped my feet in the little stream and demanded a toll in blackberries from passers by. This is my new favourite job in the world.





We took a bit of an unplanned detour near Kynance Cove, through a field of hairy coos (above), past one of the OS maps mystery “settlements” (where D used nature's very public and very convenient public convenience – a tree. Up in the carpark J used the more man-made and more flooded version.


I admit that I only took this to scare my parents. We didn't actually have to walk down here!

The last couple of miles to the end of the Lizard peninsula were painstakingly slow, as J whinged about his sore feet and made D stop at every possible opportunity to admire the view, or the bench, or to have a cup of tea. BUT! Eventually we made it to the southernmost point of mainland Britain (not Lands End, but the Lizard), saw a seal in the water, passed the lighthouse (with its inactive foghorn), and wandered the last km of our 23km around to Housel Bay Hotel just before 7pm. Once there, D blocked the toilet.

Later in the evening, with the toilet unblocked, we had a BATH! J wondered if his feet were more or less sore than the day before. We came to the conclusion that it was the hardest day . . . just joking!



Saturday 19th September

All photos of the day

We awoke, ready for another long, hard slog. Breakfast was had with a stunning view overlooking the bay. We were sat with the other guests, with tables seemingly randomly allocated via room number. J thought it was rather like being at school, and wondered what hotel guest politics had been going on for people to get the best seats.



We had a plan of attack – walk to Cadgwith for morning tea, break the 11kms between Cadgwith and Coverack into 3 manageable sections, have fish and chips at Coverack, and walk on to St Keverne. It was a good plan, in theory. It seemed to be going well as we passed the coast watch,flying the Cornish flag, and the man in the booth leant out his window and had a little chat with us, before marking our passing.





The walk to Cadgwith was relatively easy, along the tops of cliffs and through the unique vegetation of the Lizard. The sea was a brilliant turquoise and looked very inviting. The descent into Cadgwith was very pretty, through private gardens and past thatched roofs, and the mug of tea and toasted tea cakes were very welcome. The village itself was unspoilt.





Our guidebook warned us that the next section to Coverack contained some “tiring climbs”, so we were pleasantly surprised that the first twothirds was a beautiful and easy walk under the warm sun with a cool breeze blowing. The National Trust signs told us to look out for Shetland ponies and basking sharks (sharks in the sea, not on the path), and D demanded ponies at every possible opportunity. PONIES!!! I WANT THEM NOW!!! We'd been warned not to eat our lunch at the bottom of Downas Cove, in case we couldn't make it up the other side afterwards, so instead we sat near the bottom to enjoy the view and ate a chocolate bar for energy. D said “No walkers have passed us today” and the first Canadian obliged by poking her head over the ridge. They all descended and told us that their breakfast had been served an hour late, explaining their tardy appearance. We watched them struggle up the hill with a sense of foreboding, took a deep breath, and marched on. I say march, it was more of a crawl. And an agonising one at that.







We were rewarded, after passing the resting North Americans, by FIVE SHETLAND PONIES blocking our way!



We rested at the old coast guard lookout at Black Head for a final cup of tea as the North Americans passed us for the last time, and totally missed the spectacular panorama that we were enjoying – we could see as far as Falmouth! We were warned about the horrid path coming into Coverack, so we took an inland detour through a field of turnips! Down in the town, we saw a few of our nemesisisises in the pub, and our choice was vindicated – even they said it had been tough going.





Ah, but the reason we were in the pub was that the fish and chip shop was closed between 2:30 and 5 (we were there a bit before 4:30), so we decided to check out the pub menu. Unfortunately, they also didn't serve food until after five. So we tried the cafe. They stopped serving food at 4. Our plans were going very awry. We ended up buying a small tub of Roskilly's ice cream and eating it with a stale bagel overlooking the harbour. It was at this point that we realised we were sitting next to a bus stop, and a bus was due to leave for St Keverne in 10 minutes time. WE WERE SO VERY TEMPTED . . .

SO tempted.

We resisted. Barely. Instead, we shouldered our packs and marched on to Lowland Point (which used to be a beach when the sea levels were higher), stopping for a breather in what would have made a lovely campsite (if you're in to that sort of thing).



From there, it was a painful and winding route through the unspoilt Dean Quarries (they were not blasting when we were there!), onto the beach, up the byway, onto the sealed road (fucking OUCH OUCH OUCH) and to the intersection where I HOPED our B&B would be. It was. Thank goodness!





We'd been given the family room, because they couldn't remember if we'd booked a twin or a double, and as there was a single and a double bed, it would be very easy to move the pillows “like this” so we could sleep in separate beds. LOL.



After a shower and a recoup, we tottered slowly into the village for a drink and a bite to eat at one of the pubs. This was super because it involved sitting next to a display of knots (they all sounded kinkier than one might expect of seamen... oh, hang on...), seeing a bit of random live music, eating a delicious fresh fish (D) and a veggie burger that was literally that: a veggie pattie between two halves of a bun. Nothing else! The chips, however, were fantastic.

UK09: RICHMOND PARK WITH E

here is a map of (approximately) the route we took. we probably meandered rather more than this map suggests. the map also doesn't tell you that the ultimate aim of our walk was to reach SPANKERS HILL WOOD. because it has an hilarious name!



d & i hopped on the train early, going from the second last station on the northern line to the last station on district line. i feel like i've just joined some kind of london club. e was waiting for us at the station, and it was SO LOVELY to see her after not being able to give her squishes since last december! another lovely aspect of seeing her was that she took us to the cafe right near the station (a taylors st coffee place) that makes PROPER, GOOD COFFEE. omg. you have no idea how good it is to find these places in england!



anyway, we walked up to richmond park where there was a duathalon going on, so the main paths were teeming with lycra-clad specimens sporting padded buttocks. charmed. we managed to avoid them for the most part, thankfully, and instead went and hung out with the deer! DEER! EEE!





the grass was very dry for england - it almost looked like home! but in the woods it was that lovely glowy green. nom nom nom. it's amazing that such an enormous open space exists in london, completely surrounded by residential etc suburbs. i guess that's one of the legacies of having royalty own vast amounts of land and not letting plebs on it.





we had a super walk, and were definitely ready to head back to the cafe for lunch and more coffee. but first we had to stop in on the cheese shop (teddington cheese) we'd seen on our way up. it's not a proper holiday until you've bought cheese! we got a delicious, stinky cheese called (i think) epoisses, which was so runny that by the time we got it home we had to eat it with a spoon. we also sampled the oxford blue (quite mild, i thought) and a cornish yarg. i'd never had yarg before, and it had a nice tartness to it.



the cheese was so stinky that on the way home on the train, i overheard someone in the seats nearby ask, "is it just me, or is this carriage really smelly?" heheheheh.

after buying the cheese and having some lunch, we were too lazy to do anything except keep sitting in the cafe and drinking delicious tea. i hightly recommend the place, because they even put a timer on for our green/white tea so we didn't over-brew it. yay! cheese + tea + walking + friends = genius day!



we were going to go out with e&l in the evening, but instead we ate cheese, did some washing, and watched the fog, a rather slow-moving horror film directed by john carpenter of THEY LIVE fame. it was not as funny as they live, unfortunately. but then, what is?

UK09: POST THE SECOND

Saturday, 12th September 2009

After the fox-barking incident, we managed to get back to sleep, and didn’t wake again until after 8! Luxurious! This sleep-in was followed by an unhurried morning spent uploading photos, writing blogs, eating foods… general Saturday morning stuff.

Combining the awesome powers of our OS map and Google Maps, we devised a route to walk from E&L’s place in Edgware/Mill Hill, to M&A’s place in Finchley, avoiding main roads, and indeed all roads, as much as possible.

We set off in the early afternoon, out across the nearby park . . .



. . .and then followed a fairly busy and noisy road for about 15 minutes, before eventually finding sanctuary in a relatively peaceful and rather pleasant tree-lined footpath. The path was virtually deserted (we only saw two other people using it), and considering that it was a warm and sunny weekend day, I can only assume that this is because no one knows it is there. It was wonderful to have that much space to ourselves in the middle of a busy North London suburb.



The path eventually opened up and led us through some delightful community allotment gardens, which were positively bursting with colour and plant life on all sides – cucumbers, peas, beans, courgettes, pumpkins, cabbages, tomatoes, raspberries, enormous sunflowers… it was beautiful, peaceful and exciting.











And on the other side of the allotments, we were met with the stark contrast of the Great North Way – the A1. We walked parallel to it for a short while, passing a small child playing with an empty packet of cigarettes who, when we passed him, insisted on shaking my hand!

We quickly turned off the busy main road, and through numerous backstreets, all with the same name: Holders Hill Road, Holders Hill Avenue, Holders Hill Crescent, Holders Hill Drive… can you guess the name of the area? Around a few more corners, and we were back onto footpaths – the Dollis Valley Greenwalk



This led us past an hilariously excited white afghan(?) dog rolling in poo, all the way to M&A’s house - an hour and a quarter door-to-door.

When we arrived, we were greeted by J, a friend of my brother, who was the only one up – every one else had disappeared for post-lunch snoozings. They all gradually emerged and each greeted us with an incredulous “you WALKED here???!!!” A relaxing afternoon was had, hanging out, playing with kids (wow! They’re exhausting!), chatting and chilling. Had pizza in the evening (£10 a pizza! OMGWTF!), then home and straight to bed.

UK09: THE FIRST POST!

No matter how many times I fly, I don't think I'll ever get sick of seeing the world from above, of seeing the sky from inside. At one point during the first flight, after we've had breakfast at lunch time in Melbourne I look out the window to see sunrise beginning to pursue us through the clouds. We're travelling west, so dawn seems to stretch out for hours, like a symphony building to a climax, gold and orange in startling contrast to the deep blue above us and the dark earth below. The morning star hangs bright and clear, watching over it all.



These are the things I remember from flying: the web of fairy lights lacing across what I think must have been southern India; a shooting star somewhere over the equator, south of Kuala Lumpar; the mountains rearing up through a blanket of mist and dust as we near Abu Dhabi; the white-as-bleached-bone shoreline and bright blue sea of the Arabian Gulf, and the wonder that human beings can sustain themselves in the face of such dryness (it seems a different sort of dry to Australian desert); the napkin-folds of brown mountain ranges near Diyarbakir; a finger of white clouds marching purposefully towards a distant coastline.



But of course travelling isn't all wonder and amazement! My journal got off to a worrying start, with the first page taken up with calculations of when I would be able to take my next batch of Sudafed and/or Codral (thankfully the cold didn't cause too many problems). Then there is the hot, itchy tiredness that comes after spending 14 hours in a plane, then getting out at your stopover and being greeted with 5am weather that feels more like a sauna than anything (“Did she say it was TWENTY seven degrees outside?” I asked D, thinking I'd misheard. Yes, she did). There is the thirstiness and craving to wet your mouth during the two hours you spend on the ground – only it's Ramadan, and it's after sunrise, so it would be offensive to drink or eat in a public place. There is the guy behind you who you think wants to become one of the ten percent, and the woman he's chatting up who doesn't seem to mind. There is the bizarre patterns of meals (we only got 3 this time – often we get 4), and the way there is never enough of the bit of the meal you really want (fresh fruit, the delicious curry with the roti – luckily I remembered to wear my roti-eating face). There is the woman on the second leg who sits in the hitherto empty row of seats next to you – the row you had been planning to spread out into – and, when she sees you watching, puts her belongings over all four seats, then lies down across the entire row. I am not generally a vindictive person, but I am ashamed to admit that I wished bad things on her. I believe I muttered to D that I hoped she got to wherever she was going and found her bed was horrible and that a dog barked outside her window for the whole night.



At any rate, we arrived in London safe and sound, and M (D's mum) picked us up from the airport. I got through passport control without any hassles, and the person at the desk seemed happy enough to not comment that I hadn't filled in the 'sex' square on my landing card and had written so big that I could only fit my first name on. With her lack of attempt to misgender me, that made this flight the first I've done with a 100% success rate of not being girled. Yay!

M took us back to their house following the directions of my favourite navigator system: “You are no longer on the planned route!” The outer edges of north London are green with just a tiny hint of Autumn colour, and in the dappled sunshine I suddenly felt completely on holiday! Back at M&A's place we had blissful showers and some delicious and much needed food not out of a foil container! We had a short nap (oh, it wasn't pleasant having to force myself awake) found D's wallet (argh!) and headed over to E&L's (D's brother & his partner) where we unpacked, ordered and ate an enormous amount of curry, watched “Deadliest Warrior: Apache v. Gladiator” (hee) and fell asleep as soon as we got into bed.

FRIDAY 11TH

After sleeping through to about 5:30, we hopped up at about 6, ate a tiny breakfast and went for an early morning stroll around the park beside E & L's house. First squirrel sightings of the trip! I forgot how small and cute they are, and they are even cuter when they're dropping acorns out of trees above you! Also: BLACKBERRIES. I ate the first one as soon as I could, and it was DELICIOUS. I hope they have blackberries in Cornwall. . .





M picked us up at about 9 and drove us to Highgate Wood for proper breakfast. The woods are gorgeous, with dappled sunshine on the path and glowing green leaves above, and the little cafe there is also very pretty. Food and coffee were standard for England (we are so spoilt in Melbourne!) - and that means that yes, I did try the coffee (it always takes a couple of goes before I give up). We sat outside in the sunshine and breeze, looked at the OS map of North London I'd had sent to myself at M & A's place, and planned our day. Unfortunately, M couldn't come walking with us, so we said goodbye to her and set off to explore.





IT WAS HORRIBLE. And by horrible I mean absolutely delightful! We stepped off the main paths and explored the smaller tracks watched by curious little robins (D's favourite bird, and I can see why!), and found fallen trees to climb and homemade swings hung from high branches to swing on.





We crossed the road to Queen's Wood (which was called Churchyard Bottom Wood until it was renamed in honour of Queen Victoria), where one of the cutest cafes I've seen for ages sits nestled at the woods edge in a quaint brick building with a fairytale tower.



We weren't hungry or thirsty, though, so we plunged down into the trees, again turning off the main paths and finding sweet little tracks and clearings, following little streams down the hillside. Of course, all this downhill wasn't to last, and we were soon taking off our jumpers and remembering why our daypacks are not ideal for walking (we both had very sweaty backs). To take our mind off it, though, we found another swing. This time hanging above quite a steep incline, and I managed to get onto it and swing out above the path . . . WHEE! It's great being an adult, because you get to do the things your parents never would have let you do! And I didn't die once!



Our plan was to meet up with the Capital Ring, and follow it back to M & A's place. The trail was easy to find and quite well signposted, which was excellent, as we didn't have to stop and look at maps at every second crossroads. In addition, it went back past the cute cafe, so we stopped for a mug of organic tea and to enjoy the surroundings. The walls of the cafe were lined with black and white photos, and the verandah looked out into the woods. It would be interesting to head back there for lunch one day, as the menu looked nice and vegetarian-friendly.





After fortifying ourselves with tea, we followed the Capital Ring back through Highgate Wood, down a laneway, up a quiet street and into Cherry Tree Wood – a park more than a wood, where D used to watch northern line trains go into the tunnel. Of course we couldn't pass up the opportunity for a bit of train spotting, so we found the place and watched the trains go in and come out. Hee!

The signs guided us through East Finchley and Hampstead Garden Suburb, and we found several houses to go on our wishlist (anyone with a bunch of dosh to spare, take note: D's birthday is coming up in November). I do like walking in urban areas, because it affords good opportunities for stickybeaking at people's gardens! Most of the summer flowers are still in full bloom, so gardens are full of colour – at times I felt like someone had turned up the saturation levels, and it was like walking through a bright, nostalgic memory.

We had a rest in another park and watched a very cute and extremely disobedient spaniel refuse to follow its owner (it was still playfighting with other dogs when we left a quarter of an hour later). Then it was along a very pretty little garden beside a wee stream and into Big Wood (almost familiar territory for me), following the Dollis Valley Greenwalk into Little Wood, and then only a short walk up to the stupid un-walker-friendly intersection (Henley's Corner, where we got yelled at by a driver who wasn't looking where he was going – don't get angry at us, get angry at the intersection!) and then back to M&A's place for a shower and a nap. The walk was about 8.5km all up.



The afternoon and evening were spent catching up with family, giving presents, talking and eating Shabbat dinner. I swear I ate about half a loaf of chollah. Man, I LOVE CHOLLAH. It was, in all, a lovely day.

Last night we were awake at about 4 or 5am, and heard this weird sound, like a man shouting, “Aurgh, aurgh, aurgh!” We were sure it wasn't a bird, so we looked out the window into the park and saw a big fox, barking! We think it was barking at a little black and white dog that scampered away down the road. The fox barked a few more times and trotted off into the night.