It's All Downhill (and a lot of Uphill) from here

So... as you may have guessed I am behind in blog posts.  Thing is, walking 8 or 9 hrs a day is tiring!!  My life for the past 10 days has been walk, sleep, walk, sleep.  We've also had some wild adventures that I will get to in the next post.  But then again, would you expect anything less from me? ;-) 

June 3, 2016

Rest Day in Bude

So not much to report on Bude.  It is a nice place to have a day off from walking and for Ken to hit the shops looking for replacement underpants.  He eventfully found a pair at a local running store that cost way more than a pair of underwear ever should.  They are some new space age seamless athletic design for no chafing and sweat wicking.  Apparently, all the guys who run the London Marathon swear by them.  All except one guy who posted a Google review of 3 stars.  He said that at 50, he needed more “support” from his Runderroos.  So now Ken has buyer’s remorse and I have to keep reminding him that this is not a marathon – this is a meditative walking experience - so the only support he needs is for his arches and his Third Eye opening.

We stayed with a guy named Steve (Airbnb) and had a great time.  His dad was visiting and they were both hilarious. He gave us the bedroom with the jetted tub which, yes, I lived in for two days.  A few years ago Steve also hosted a documentary team who were filming a British Special Forces guy trying to run the entire SWCP in 10 days (this same guy also re-created Shackleton’s row boat journey from Elephant Island to South Georgian Island using the same gear as Shackleton).  Anyway, he did make it with the Shackleton re-creation but he blew out his knee on day 5 of the run.  Not sure what this means for us as he dropped out on the stage we have to do tomorrow.  But Ken does have his high tech running panties so that should give us an advantage.

June 4, 2016

Bude to Crackington Haven

19.13 km 

28,187 steps

The first half of this stage is fairly benign.  About 7 km in you get to Widemouth Bay, which has a nice beachside café for coffee.  We made a stop and soon after, the sea mist started rolling in and the day become grey and humid.  The last half is a lot of climbing and going back down again.  Then more climbing.  Then more going back down.  The kind of stuff my nail-less toes love.

Along the way we met another couple doing the trail in the opposite direction – Dave (retired Royal Marine) and his wife Carol.  They were running the trail in short shorts looking pretty damn fit and glamorous.  Dave probably had special issue military Runderroos that gave him an advantage on the climbs.  Anyway, they had their camper van parked at Crackington Haven and told us to come by for tea.  We got into Crackington Haven and did in fact find the van and had a nice tea break with new friends.  Afterwards, Dave and Carol offered to drive us to our B & B which was great because according to Google Maps, it was otherwise a 30-minute road walk.  We stayed at Hannah’s Cottage – a small working farm owned by Stephen and his partner Jonathan.  There was even a campsite down the lane for Dave and Carol!  The cottage was Martha Steward fabulous.  We got tea and chocolate cake when we arrived.  Then I completely flooded the new bathroom spraying the showerhead everywhere.  In the morning Stephen made us a HUGE breakfast with Mario Lanza playing in the background.  It was just like being in Cape Cod for the Tennesse Williams Festival all over again.

June 5, 2015

Crackington Haven to Tintagel

21.75 km

34,325 steps

We caught a lift with Dave and Carol back to the start point in Crackington Haven.  They would walk with us to Boscastle and then catch the bus back to their van while we “soldiered on” to Tintagel.  It was overcast and humid with more ups and downs to test the knees and de-nail the toes.  At Boscastle, we stopped and had lunch together while some random guy belted out Scottish folk tunes to raise money for veterans.  At one point, he started singing “The Wheels on the Bus go round and round” like he was Glen Daly. 

Boscastle’s two claims to fame (not withstanding the fundraising Scottish Bard) is the Witch museum and the flood of 2004.  We didn’t go to the museum but you can see a video on the flood in the info center.  I’d recommend Googling it on YouTube because it is quite an impressive feat of nature. The torrential rain led to a 2 m (7 ft.) rise in river levels in one hour. A 3 m (10 ft.) wave, believed to have been triggered by water pooling behind debris under a bridge suddenly gave way and surged down the valley into the town.  It was like a Tsunami.

From Boscastle it is on to Tintagel.  It was really humid by now with zero breeze.  Basically the next 4 hours sucked.  As you come to the end of the walk you see the cliffs of Tintagel Castle – the ruins of which are supposed to be the birthplace of King Arthur.  In fact, the entire village is one massive homage to King Arthur and Merlin.  It’s kind of Spamalot meets the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism).  By the time we got in, all the tourist re-enactments were closed but we got our fill at the King Arthur Arms where burly men in chainmail and Celtic war paint played pool and checked their iPhones for messages. 

June 6, 2016

Tintagel to Port Isaac

18.63 km

29,297 km

Ugh.  Just when you think the worse bits are over you realize they are not.  Trailblazers describe this section as “the most challenging leg of the whole walk.  The trail itself is well trodden but the never ending series of ascents and descents may have the weak willed swearing to hang up their boots.”

So I think I just sort of blacked out at this point because I can’t remember how we made it from Tintagel to Port Isaac.

I do remember as we began the walk at the Merlin Caves that suddenly Dave and Carol popped out!  God damn.  Those two are not just epic runners they are also wizards! 

At some point we did make it into Port Isaac and found ourselves in front of a hotel with the biggest Great Dane I have ever seen.  This dog was mutant size.  The owner invited us up to visit him.  This dog weighs 165 lbs.  His head is the size of a small car.  On the veranda are two equally large life like statues of the same dog.  Ken goes over to them and says to the “live” dog “These look just like you!  I bet one of these is your ancestor.”  To which the owner in all his very British seriousness replies “Yes they are.  The one you are leaning on right now his great grandfather Sir Sachamo Lead Belly Manchester James Brown III.  I commissioned that statue to intern his ashes.”

Awkward….

Our lodgings for the night were at Lane End Farm with Nab and Linda.  What a great place!!  I am so sad they are retiring the B & B this year because these two are the best B & B proprietors I’ve ever met.  They are both so funny and can’t do enough to make your stay comfortable.  Linda even made me fresh haddock and poached eggs for breakfast.  Yes, fresh.  If you give her 24 hrs. notice she gets it from the fisherman at the docks.  She’s the type of woman you know takes zero shit from any man but has the heart of an angel.  I mean, this is a place that has a “ladies cupboard” filled with feminine hygiene products, hot water bottles, chocolate covered digestives cookies and Midol.  She and Nab have been married 42 years and Nab say they are still newlyweds (gush!).

Port Isaac is famous as the setting for the British series “Doc Martin.”  I have never seen it so I cannot tell you anything remarkable about it.  What I will say is that the village at the harbor is really nice and I wish we had more time to hang out there and people watch over coffee and gossip with Nab.

June 7, 2016

Port Isaac to Padstow

21.48 km

34,182 steps

“If medals were given out for the toughest section of the SWCP then the initial 3 miles of this winding 12 mile stage would certainly stand on the podium.”

Jesus F Christ.

ENOUGH WITH THE REPETIVE CLIMBING AND ASCENDING ALREADY!!

So the good news is this is really, really supposed to be the last of the SWCP death marches.  This better be for real, this time, because I do not have enough toenails to sacrifice to the SWCP God to get me through another stage.  My knees are organizing a revolt and are forming a union, which means they will demand a lot more break time than Ken is currently allowing.  I fear a crippling strike is imminent.

About all I can remember for this stage are being hot and sticky, sweating a lot, climbing a lot and then having to walk stinking to high heaven on a beach for 2 hours.  Sand is not your friend when you are on the SWCP. 

The torture ends at Rock where you catch a ferry over to Padstow for the night.  Padstow is fondly referred to as “Padstein” in deference to Rick Stein.  Until now we had no idea who he was but he is THE GUY when it comes to Michelin star food cuisine in England.  He has had a cooking/travel series on TV for the last 7 yrs., has nine dining establishments and a cooking school devoted to seafood in Padstow.  So here we are in a foodie’s paradise and didn’t even know it!  We thought about dinner at one of his seafood places but they are closed Mondays and Tuesdays.  That and the $230 CDN per person price tag for a dinner sitting nixed the idea.  And all I have to wear is an Edward Sharpe concert T-shirt and a pair of lyrca shorts so takeaway Chinese it is!

June 8, 2016

Padstow to Porthcothan

24.62 km

36,207 steps

If you haven’t already guessed it, I am pretty tired at the end of the day so this section of the walk will only contain relevant highlights and some bitching and moaning.

As mentioned previously, the grinding ups and downs of the SWCP are behind us now so the walk is more humane.  My bald toes are grateful.

We spent the night in Porthcothan at the Penlan B & B.  When we arrived, there was a large German Shepard lying under a shrub in the front yard.  He looked like he was dead.  Seriously.  We got to the front door there was a sign that said “BEWARE OF GUARD DOG.”  The proprietor (Mary) greets us and Ken makes a joke about the “guard dog sleeping on duty.”  Mary freaks out and pushes past us yelling “SKYE SKYE” and proceeds to shake the dead dog violently under the shrubs.  Skye suddenly leaps to his feet dazed and confused and starts barking wildly while looking around at what exactly or why he has been aroused from his nap.  Afterwards Mary tells us that 3 months ago Skye began to have seizures.  They have since learned he has a brain tumor.  Since Skye is already 12 years old they are just focusing on palliative care for him.  Ken is batting 0 for 0 in the dog joke arena.  He made up for it when the Swedish woman who was staying next door came into our room in a towel asking Ken if he could help her turn on her shower.  Apparently he is much better working out the hot water system than he is with dry canine humor.  We had dinner up the hill at some shitty pub where Ken complained about the sun being in his eyes and I whacked moles in the arcade.  

(I would like to take this opportunity to give a big shout out to another fabulous "couple" we met on the trail - Mick and John.  They were "racing" us for the first week of the SWCP and then they bailed.  Something about the SWCP not being manly and rugged enough for them so they blew us off to go hike the Welsh Coast.  Good luck boys!  Hold on to your knickers :-) 

Another day at the beach

When you give your dog raw meat and steroids...

Hey!  Who wants to ride the giant sling shot 20 times?

Bude - Land of the hipster life guards.  I so wanted to start something in the pool that day...

It really isn't a trip until I french kiss a cow

Straight outta Cornwall!

Where everyone gets crabs and then has to see Doc Martin in Port Isaac

Catching the ferry to Padstow

Druid Goats - they're real.

So....  Ken zoomed in on this photo after he took it and we are about 90% sure it is Prince Harry.  And as off the wall as that sounds, you need to realize that the reason Ken took this photo was that this beach stop was pretty much deserted except for a few guys "having coffee" across the street and this "surfer" running down to catch some waves.  It was so casual and yet, so out of place.  Plus dude is a hot bearded ginger with a board so it HAS to be royalty!

I CAN FLY!!

And so it goes....

And yet another lighthouse more epic than the one at Lynton

Another way point in the journey

Sometimes this trail really takes the piss out of you

Random snack van!!!

Another toe nail bites the dust

SWCP screen saver moment

Ken living on the edge

Ken makes a new friend

Ken looking to see when the next Chinese Take Away shows up on the path

Me whacking the patriarchy - uh moles - at the bar.

Some things Lost and Elevation Gained

May 31, 2016

Westward Ho! to Clovelly

21.35 km

37,228 Steps

Onward we go!  I wanted to fill you all in about Westward Ho! but I am just too tired to look up anything.  What I can tell you is that the town is named after a fictional place in a Charles Kingsley novel. (In the last blog post I referred to him as Christopher Kingsley – my bad. I think that was his fancy dress and beard alias when he hit the clubs). Anyway, Westward Ho! really isn’t much to look at although it seems to do well with holiday rentals.  There is a fish and chip restaurant that must be good since the night before there was a line up around the block waiting to order.  I think at this point in the walk, I am close to earning some fish and chips and I plan to indulge once we get into Plymouth.  There is a place there that is in the top 5 for best UK fish and chips.  Number 1 is in Scotland.  I am not walking that far for fish and chips.  Not unless there are more Nero’s Cafes on the route.

Our walk today started easy enough hugging the coastline.  About half way in, it begins to make some tiresome ascents and descents into more wooded territory.  We made a wrong turn and ended down on Peppercombe Beach.  It was worth the diversion as it is a nice beach but very rocky.  My feet weren’t loving it.  Soon enough we arrive into the shade of Hobby Drive – a wooded bridle path that is tranquil and picturesque.  There is a legend about some guy named John Gregg who 250 years go lived in a cave nearby and made a living robbing, murdering and eating travelers.  He apparently had a family with descendants still living in the area so try not to look too tasty or rich if you walk this section.

Our final destination for today is Clovelly – home of donkeys and feral cats.  Clovelly is a small town built on a steep cliff down to a natural harbor.  It is where Charles Kingsley was born and it was also a favorite summer holiday place of Charles Dickens.  The town remains as it has always been and is often used in movies and TV series for its distinct period piece look.  All that can be attributed to the Hamlyn family who bought the town as part of an estate in 1738.  Christine Hamlyn (and her descendants) then set about renovating the town and ensuring that, to this day, it never leaves the 17^th century. 

The streets are impossibly steep and narrow.  Hence the donkeys are the only means of getting goods up and down the cliffs.  There are tons of cats living here.  Someone opens a door and about 6 cats run in and another 6 run out.  Apparently there has always been a “feral” cat population to keep the vermin down and it appears that if you live here, you just sort of accept that you share your home with a dozen or so other feline residents. 

June 1, 2016

Clovelly to Hartland Quay

18.28 km

30,853 steps

Some Clovelly deets before we move on:  We stayed at the Donkeys Shoe Cottage where Debra made me the best poached eggs ever.  Because this cottage is 500 yrs. old and built on a cliff the floors are uneven so every time you walk you sort of fall over and think “Man, that cider is pretty damn strong!”  There is an opening in the Clovelly Coast Guard for Search and Rescue.  But you have to also have gardening skills to keep the place looking nice for all the Japanese tourists.  That’s another thing about Clovelly – it is insanely popular with the Japanese.  I think it’s the cats…

From here we make our way to Hartland Quay and one of two “grueling days of isolated walking.”  Seems every day is rated as intense and every place we stay at has some horror story of how tough the next day’s stage will be.   About an hour into the walk, you come across two peculiar man-made structures in the middle of nowhere.  The first is “The Cabin” – a tiny, tiny one-room cottage where Sir James Hamlyn Williams would come to  stare out the window at the sea and think deep thoughts about his sheep empire.  The second is a wooden hand carved gazebo called “Angel’s Wings” made by a former butler of the estate.  It’s pretty impressive not only in its detail but also when you consider a butler in 18^th century England didn’t exactly have copious amounts of spare time.

Around the halfway mark we completely lost the trail and wandered aimlessly in a farmer’s field.  Eventually we could make out the distant giant golf ball radar station that we knew was on the SWCP.  So we basically trespassed through a bunch of private estates until we came to a public bridle way, which we slogged through for another hour until we reached the radar station and the actual trail.  Near the radar station is a kiosk for treats (which Ken again, would not let us stop for) and then it is the punishing series of “chevron-three” ascents and descents into Hartland Quay.  I could have done without the last bit down into the Hartland Quay Hotel.  I could have also done without the three flights of stairs we had to climb to get to our room carrying our own luggage.  And I could have done with a bath to soak my feet but we only had a shower so I just sat in a fetal position with the showerhead spraying my feet for half an hour.  Then I took two acetaminophen with codeine and crawled downstairs to the pub to get food only to be told that since we had no reservation, we could not get a table until 8:30 which is also when they stop taking food orders.  Do not get me started on the whole “this is the only place to stay and eat in 8 km so why the hell would you not have room to feed your hotel clients that stay here because it is only place on you can stay on this section of the SWCP” rant...

June 2, 2016

Hartland Quay to Bude

24.78 km

4 billion steps (ok – actually 43,844 steps but it felt like a lot more.  A lot more.)

So about the “toughest sections of the SWCP” we all keep reading about (and experiencing)…

According to our Trailblazer’s Guide this section is indeed the toughest on the SWCP.  It 25 km of continual ascents and descents into Bude (ten actual ascents and descents btw – in case you want to count which you won’t because you will be in agony and will lose all sense of reality by about the halfway point.)

Our day started with the smallest English breakfast in human experience at the Hartland Quay.  Thank God I packed 10 pounds of trail mix “just in case” because clearly the one egg and 4 slices of mushroom wasn’t going to get me to Bude.  The weather was overcast which was perfect because you will work up a sweat on this day’s walk.  I would hate to do this in the rain or in the heat of the summer.  There are no towns or “refreshment stops” once you start so you’re committed once you do. 

We started out early so we could get into Bude before dark.  The guidebook says it should take around 8.5 hrs. of continual walking  to complete.  This means it will take us 12 hours because photos, me hobbling down the descents, more photos, me crying as I make another ascent, bandaid and weeping breaks.  You get the picture.

About half way into the walk you reach the bottom of a valley and cross a creek.  There in the middle of nowhere is a sign telling you that you have now left Devon and are entering Cornwall.  You pass some nice waterfalls, Roman ruins, epic cliff drops and more ascents and descents until you crest another cliff and find yourself smack in the middle of a field filled with enormous satellite dishes.  I think this is where Stephen Hawkings has his SETI project – or it is just some farmer who really, really wants to maximize his access to TV stations. 

We eventually get into Bude where we realize two things: Somehow between Hartland Quay and here Ken has lost a pair of his travel underwear and I have lost a toenail.  The toenail is a given – I am not kidding about the ascent and decent portion of the day.  But the underwear…. 

Ken: “I can’t find my other pair of travel underwear”

Me: “Yeah, well I'm missing a toenail on my right foot!”

Ken: “But I don’t get why they are missing.  I always check the room before we leave”

Me: “Well I don’t know what to tell you.  At some point we must have entered a black hole on the trail and re-emerged less than intact.  I have no toenail and you have no underpants.  It happens.”

Ken: “But those were my favorite pair”

Me: “I was fond of my toenail as well BUT IT’S GONE!!  I HAVE NO TOENAIL!!  OPEN THE PROSECCO RIGHT NOW SO I CAN DULL THE PAIN!!!”

A man needs a lot of calcium on the SWCP

Me in Hartland Quay before I found out how long I had to wait for dinner...

I'm King of the World!

Ken having a close encounter

This portion of the path is sponsored by SETI - #notallaliens

A view of Hartland Abbey through Hartland Abbey

Beach Drama

Dragons...

When you need more Ram

"Mom that man is looking at my butt again"

It just goes on and on...

Only 15 more miles!

Tunnel of Love

A little place in the middle of nowhere that two women artists lived for 50 years - with cats.

Clovelly Harbour

The Clovelly Grind

The mayor of Clovelly - Mr. Finnigan Whiskers III

Breast feeding in public is a thing here

"CAN SOMEONE GET ME A FLAT WHITE!?!??!?!"

Walk this way

Pounding the Pavement

May 27, 2016

Woolacombe to Braunton

22.86 km

33,093 steps

Today was the day our luck ran out with the weather.  The forecast for the day was overcast with intermittent showers which meant digging out the rain pants and pack covers – it was going to be a wet one!  The morning started out fine.  No rain and beach and estuary walking all to our selves.  For this stage, the walking is flat so any push we make was more trying to beat the rain than make up time lost slogging up and down cliffs.  About two hours in we leave the beaches and head inland to Baggy Point also known as “Wreck Point” for its plethora of ship wrecks and the inability for rescue boats to get to it due to pounding surf and rocks.  Somewhere in the fields of green we lost our way and never made it to the point.  Instead we followed a wet overgrown footpath into the town of Croyde.  I was kind of glad for this since it was starting to rain and I could use a hot drink.  Croyde is another one of these beach towns that appears to completely subsist on vacationers renting trailers in trailer parks.  There are a lot of sand dunes that you can’t go on because it is a lizard protection zone but it does have a nice sandy beach that, even in the cold and rain, people were determined to use as if it was in Maui.  I felt rather pathetic shivering in a café while outside I could see children and adults in bathing suits running into waves blissfully unaware of the inclement weather. 

A break in the rain meant another push to Saunton.  There is not much here except the omnipresent Saunton Sands and the golf course/military training grounds.  Still, it was another welcome relief to come upon civilization because now the rain showers had morphed into rain torrents.  Again, we were fortunate that just as this set in we were at another coffee shop so yes, we settled in had more hot drinks.  It was definitely a moment of relieve and foreboding as we watched the rain pound down.  Relief that we were in a nice café and foreboding that this could be another “Wainwright Flashback” and have to endure 5 hrs. of walking in  “English Weather.”

Fortunately, the rain let up and we make the final push into Braunton.  This was mainly done through the golf course where you had to watch for flying balls and through the military training grounds where not much training seems to be happening.  This may be because this entire area is now a protected wildlife sanctuary for lizards and adders.  You see plenty of signs warning you to not let your horse our your person step on a lizard or adder because doing so can result in a hefty fine.  (Which had me wondering, how would anyone know?  Are the lizards and adders micro chipped?  Do those microchips record who stepped on them and when?  Or are all the lizards and adders under military protection and there, in the marsh, are hundreds of soldiers in gilly suits keeping a watchful eye on their assigned amphibian or snake?)

Our lodgings in Braunton were The Firs B & B.  It was quite a slog into it from the town proper but in the end proved to be well worth it.  The Bennings are avid competitive road cyclists and triathletes so Ken right away got treated to a tour of the cycling man cave of Jim and his son (who also co-owns the bike shop in town which yes, we had to make a pilgrimage to.  All hail the carbon fiber God who personally, I only worship because s/he comes with an espresso machine ready to re-caffeinate weary legs.)

Braunton is also home to the English surf museum where you can learn the history of surfing in the UK.  Seems it started around the turn of the century using coffin lids and progressed from there.  It seems a little less hang ten and more about after a few pints lets get crazy and ride some winter storm waves.  But hey, whatever gets you into the water!

May 29, 2016

Braunton to Instow

23.22 km

34,663 steps

After a much needed rest day in Braunton we are back on the path and on our way to Instow.  This section of the walk is part of the Tarka Trail and is a flat paved trail system created on a disused railway line.  This makes it very popular with cyclists and very busy over all to walk due to “traffic.”  The upshot however is the journey is always punctuated by places to stop for a drink or snacks. Welcome to the civilized section of the trek!

About 3 hours in you arrive at the town of Barnstaple.  We ducked into the town center for a Nero’s break and to grab lunch.  There happened to be an ale and cider festival going on but we did not partake.  Ken has me on a strict “You get one vice only on the walk” regime and so I had to go with lattes over ale.  From Barnstaple we “soberly” made our way to our next waypoint – Fremington Quay.  The quay is a popular rest and hang out spot for cyclists and Triumph motorcycle enthusiasts. 

The remaining journey is uneventful path walking through estuaries and reclaimed farmland until finally we reached our destination at Instow.  The path diverts around a cricket field that was filled with pristine white (in clothing and skin tone) players in the midst of a game.  This particular club has been around since the early 1800’s and still uses the original building with is original thatched roof.  Instow itself is a pretty seas side town with a nice beach and tiny harbor.  It is also home to “John’s Grocery and Bakery” which has the BEST flat white in the universe and has a deli counter to die for. 

Our accommodations for tonight are from Air B & B (The Roses) at the very end of High Road (and yeah, the road is high – my feet were not happy).  What an exceptional value though.  For $60 CDN we got our own room, bathroom (with kick ass rain shower and tub) AND A FRIDGE!!!  Yes a fridge – stocked with beverages for us to have!!  And there was a cat – Seamus aka “Mr. Furbs” who was awesome. 

May 30, 2016

Instow to Westward Ho!

21.38 km

32,025 steps

We are back with the fine weather and another flat walk along the Tarka Trail into Westward Ho!  Our first stop is the town of Bideford for a lunch break.  This place has potential and perhaps if this weren’t a Sunday it could have been more fun but seeing as it was a Sunday, most things of interest were closed (such as the Pannier market) so we ended up with a Co-op meal deal on a bench by the water.  Pretty sketchy along there to be honest. Lots of betting shops and strip clubs that offered bottomless coffee with your breakfast (yeah – open to way too much interpretation).  From here we walk another few hours to the very scenic Appledore, which is actually a short boat ride across the bay from Instow (but again, being purest we took the l-o-n-g way around).  And because it is just across from Instow there is also another “John’s” so FLAT WHITE BREAK!!! 

From Appledore the trail heads into the Northam Burrows Country Park consisting of 243 hectares of coastal plains and sand dunes.  It is home to the oldest links course in England where you are warned to be mindful of flying golf balls and for golfers to be mindful of horses grazing on the green.

Westward Ho! is your typical weekend holiday town.  There is a small arcade and amusement park in the town center and the beach strip is lined with chippies, ice cream carts and teashops.  We stayed at the Village Inn and ate take away Chinese from a place run by white people.  (Ok I’m just going to say it – so far on this walk we have not run into a single non-white person anywhere.  None.  There is, however, a lot of canine diversity J)

Ale and Cider Festival in Barnstaple  

Having a "golden" moment on the promenade in Appledore

Houseboat living in Braunton

Houseboat with an outdoor bathub :-) 

Heading out to see in Instow

If you got 8 hours to kill, take in a cricket match in Instow

The "Ins" of Instow

No heavy machinery in this village

Walker's greeting party

Sunset in Instow

Digging tunnels in the sand.  Future engineers in the making!  (Or not...)

All that is wonderful at John's

Christopher Kingsley of Waterbabies fame looking very dapper in his new scarf and manscaped hipster beard

Skateboarding in Braunton

Snail escort on the trail

Surfs up!

Looking back before looking ahead...

The forever beach in Woolacombe