The Lazy Cherub Enigma: 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!!!”