It is a better day today as I set off in the opposite direction from yesterday, heading for a wooden stairway at the end of the beach which leads up into the dunes.
The path runs inland a little, passes the golf course and then on to Trevose Head.
From the cliffs I can see two men standing on a rock looking out to sea, I wonder how they got there as I can see no obvious path.
…….I also wonder why almost all the lighthouses I pass use the exact same bright green colour for their doors and window frames – is this dictated by the National Trust? It reminds me of the houses I saw on Lanzarote many years ago. Here there are tight building restrictions to prevent the kind of overdevelopment seen on sister islands like Gran Canaria and Tenerife and even the colour of the houses is tightly controlled. All buildings are painted white, with green shutters in the countryside (for farmers) and blue by the sea (for the fishermen).
I walk around the headland and back down the other side where the path now takes me past fields.
The path narrows and right beside it I come across this memorial – it is a strange place to scatter ashes as it has no real sense of “place” – the view of the sea is obscured and behind the plaque is just an anonymous field. Perhaps the landscape has changed since 1986 – I do hope the sleep of a labouring man IS sweet.
The path now winds its way down, past a lifeboat station and into Mother Ivey’s Bay (I wonder who she was?)
Here, the cliffs are crumbling into the sea (like so many other places on the coast) and there is a diversion which leads me into a large sprawling campsite.
I ask for directions to the campsite toilet and a mother and her two small daughters show me the way. They have been collecting mussels and I am just about to tell my mussel poisoning story when I think better of it. The campsite facilities are immaculate, enough to make me think about taking up camping again, but not quite.
After what seems like an eternity trying to find the way out of the site I am directed towards a gate and back on to the cliff path.
From here I walk down to the beach and take a few photos of what had been obscured by the high hedge of the camping site. I love the colours of the different rock strata.
Around the next headland is Harlyn Bay – I am tempted to stop but I don’t want to miss the bus at Trevone (would have to wait two hours for the next one) and the skies are darkening.
I practically run up onto the cliff path and round to Trevone Bay but I am not quick enough – soaked. Fortunately, I have plenty of time for the bus so I pop into a hotel in the village and lick my wounds over a shandy (it is still quite early in the day).
It is a strange coincidence that I finally have found time to write this blog just before I discover the podcast of Claire Balding reporting on the same walk in her Radio 4 series “Ramblings”. I will listen to it later.
Distance: 6 miles