Day: 117 31/5/94 Salcombe to Kingsbridge

Weather: Fine      Distance: 12km (7.5 miles)      Total Distance: 1460 miles

I woke up early at the Youth Hostel with sun pouring in through the tall windows and a good view across the estuary. The Canadian lad was also up early and packing to leave.  I washed and packed quickly and did not stay for any breakfast - mainly because I did not have anything!  The days of having to do a job in the mornings at Youth Hostels has now gone so I could leave with a clear conscience. 

The day began with going back down the very steep hill again and into South Sands.  The road then swept into Salcombe took another few ups and downs.  The road was in fact marked as being closed for cars and it soon became apparent why, because a bridge has collapsed.  A temporary footbridge had been erected fortunately, otherwise it would have meant a steep detour.

The narrow streets of Salcombe were peaceful except for a couple of newsagents open and a collection of delivery vans and street cleaners.  I tried to imagine how in another two hours the scene would be very different.  The north end of Salcombe changed from a twee tourist town to a working boat community, though much of it based on the pleasure boat industry.  Once out of the town I stopped to eat my breakfast - a can of pop and a couple of biscuits.  Walking up the estuary to Batson I was unsure if I could walk down the other side.  I saw someone in a porch putting on their walking boots so asked them. It turned out that I could walk all the way down to the headland past Sharps Manor along good footpaths, but when I turned northwards again my way was blocked to Lincombe because the path was closed to protect breeding birds. I feel much less aggrieved about closed footpaths if it is for a good reason and that reason is explained.

Quite a lot of the remainder of the walk was on minor roads except for a couple of footpaths that cut off corners.  One such path led around the back of Ilton Castle Farm, not  terribly well marked and I walked through the camp site annoying the camper's dogs.

Most cars had been very good at slowing down when they saw me, but one lady coming down the hill north of Blanksmill Farm, appeared determined not to loose speed for her ascent up the other side and sped past me cowering in the hedge.

The road into Kingsbridge was not all that picturesque, and the only highlight was a kestrel flying around the telegraph poles.  I walked into Kingsbridge which was a bit of a shock having been out in the countryside for four days.  The town was bustling. The car park along the river bank was full, this had been transformed into a fair ground next time we came down as a family.  In fact next time I returned, the whole town looked quieter but I am convinced this was only in my imagination.

I was some three hours early to catch the bus to Plymouth, but there happened to be one about to go.  I thought about spending time in the town and looking for the pace we had booked for our summer holidays, but instead decided that I did not like the crowds and caught he early bus into Plymouth.  The ride was bumpy.  The bus called into the Shire Horse Centre and through a couple of the villages I had already walked through.

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Day: 116 30/5/94 Averton Gifford to Salcombe

Weather: Fine   Distance: 20km (12.4 miles)    Total Distance: 1452 miles

After breakfast at Marsh Mills I was ready to head off.  When I was leaving I was hearing a bit more about how the owner was recovering from a head injury sustained from falling off a ladder.  I also heard how he was an Ayrton Senna fan and had been upset by the death of the racing driver.  When I returned to work, I got hold of some posters from Team Courtaulds and sent them to him.  I understand from a letter I received later that they made him feel a bit better.  I hope so.

It was a couple of hundred yards walk up the main road before taking a right turn down a farm track for a mile and then into fields.  The path was adequately marked and it only got rough once in some woods where lots of trees had fallen which were pretty tricky to hurdle over with a rucksack.  The whole route down this side of the estuary was deserted.  I had that feeling I could have been lost in the woods for days.

Bantham was a picturesque village but was already crowded with visitors cars by the time I was walking through.  Skirting the car park the path goes out onto a sand spit and nature reserve with views over the estuary to Burgh Island.  Back along a beach and then up onto the cliff tops for the fist time today.  I experienced a bizarre incident at Thurlestone where I got hit on the leg by a golf ball!  I must admit that although it left a graze, it did not hurt much.  When the golfer eventually came to see if I was OK. The cheek of it all was that he then went to play the next shot, cheeky because if I had not stopped it with my leg it would probably have gone over the cliff!

Thurlestone Sands bought back some memories of when I went there with my parents on a Holiday Fellowship holiday, but not much of it looked familiar, only the rock with a hole in it.  I stopped at the far end of the beach for a cup of tea.  A little annoying detour for 100 yards forced the path inland behind a hotel before it returned to the coast.

At Inner Hope the path goes along the main street of the village, thronging with people on the Bank Holiday Monday.  I thought about a drink in a pub but decided against the crowds, so stocked up with pop and cakes and ate them on a bench overlooking the bay.  I moved on as soon as the ski-jets took to the sea and spoilt the peace.  Bolt Tail was much more peaceful though some of the more energetic holiday makers had strode this far.  The exact path was not always evident and at one stage the path turned into a scramble close to the edge - a bit dodgy when carrying a backpack.

There is not much doubt that Bolt Tail to Bolt Head is a beautiful stretch of coast and a sunny day like this made it even more spectacular.  There were some other walkers out and the only other sign of life was in the fairly crowded car park at Westcliff.  Sometimes the path was steep and crept around headlands with steep drops off to the right.  Not far past Bolt Tail I had caught up with a girl who I guessed was out for short walk from Inner Hope, but she walked almost all the way to Bolt Head at the same pace.  I was impressed because I walked virtually without stopping.

Straight after Bolt Head, it became crowded again with people out for a holiday walk.  Two men on mountain bikes were finding the path a little steep and walked much of it.  There were spectacular views around Sharp Tor.  After Sharp Tor the path became wooded and level with cars parked alongside the road.  It was apparently along this stretch that a girl was murdered a few months later.  A sobering thought.  

I had booked into the Youth Hostel at Sharpiton which during the day time was a National Trust gardens.  It was not far off the coast path but it was a very steep climb up a narrow road. Having my NT card on me I was able to go into the gardens. I drank a pot of tea and had a quick nap on the lawn, not quite the thing to do on a National Trust lawn I guess, especially with ones shoes and socks taken off.  When I awoke I got chatting to a group of elderly people who were amused by my nap taking in the middle of the lawn.  They were walkers and told me that I was wise not to try to cross the River Avon because they knew someone who had lost their husband trying to cross it.

At 5 o'clock the National Trust tea room suddenly emptied and transformed itself into a Youth Hostel.  I took a temporary membership and went to my dormitory, a 20 bed large room with great views across the gardens and estuary.  I had the communal tea cooked by the warden, of savory chicken and rice and a huge pot of tea.  Two other families joined me for tea.  After the joint washing up I went down to South Sands for a drink in the pub/hotel overlooking the beach.  I got talking to a group of people from Bristol who included someone who worked at Berkley power station.  When I went back to the dorm in the hostel I met the only other person in the room, a Canadian who seemed quite caught up with the 50 years since D-day celebrations.  There always seems to be a North American staying in every youth hostel.

Day: 115 29/5/94 Stoke to Averton Gifford

Weather: Fine    Distance:  21km (13 miles)     Total Distance: (1440 miles)

The breakfast at my B&B was good, but I was lessimpressed with the packed lunch which I had ordered; no drink and processed ham sandwiches which even I could not stomach!  I met a young couple at breakfast who were mountain biking; I saw them later at the start of the coastal walk at Stoke getting their bikes out of their car. I thought they would not manage much of the coast, but then they proceeded to turn up again at the mouth of the River Erme; quite how they got there I am not certain.

The walk to Stoke retraced the end of the walk the previous night.  I bought a canned drink off a very miserable person at the caravan site shop and then started the days walk.  Knowing that I would probably not be able to wade the Erme until after lunch, I did not rush the morning but enjoyed the cliff walk.  I stopped for a break at the Erme Mouth beach before going around the next wooded headland to the place to cross the river.

I surveyed where to cross for a while but it was not obvious and it was still a couple of hours before low tide.  It was here I met a couple of middle aged ladies who were also backpacking and waiting to cross the river.  I sat at the side of the beach and waited for the tide.  I saw a couple of men wade across at the wide mouth of the river and the lady backpackers then decided to have a go.  I followed, taking my boots off first; it was cold and in places a strong current but not deep enough to get wet shorts.  I had a chat to the ladies at the other side while putting on my boots.  They were hoping to reach Thurlstone but half expecting to have to get a taxi around the Avon, another tidal river and riskier to cross - I think they probably did.

The next part of the coast was again picturesque with some steep descents and climbs.  Certainly by the time I reached Charlborough, I was wondering if the ladies would make it since when I left them the more inexperienced one was having to stop for blisters.  Charlborough was a holiday resort beach with caravan sites, chalets and the smell of hot dogs.. Failing to find the club house open for a drink, I had a cup of tea from a snacks wagon.  Bigbury was not very exciting and had nothing to entice me to stop, though looking back I should have because by the time I got to the B&B I was tired and very thirsty.

After Bigbury I had to climb up the cliffs again, mainly on the main road, only to loose all the height again when the path dog-legged back down to the estuary an a steep track through farmland.  The path then swung back inland, up again, before levelling off, going through fields and than forming a track across a golf course.  After the golf course the path went down to the estuary again at the farm Hexdown.  I was a bit suspicious about whether walkers were welcome because there was an electric fence across the initial farm path.  At the bottom there was a deserted complex of farm buildings, a strange feeling.  I then came out onto a track through a wooded area - it looked safe enough but I disturbed a large fierce dog at one house. I'm glad it didn't escape. The owner drove pase a few moments later in a 4 wheel drive - looking very suspicious. I thought I had stumbled on a drugs smuggling operation or something.

A climb up the track, past an odd house, bought me back onto the road, and soon after left it again to cross some fields (the path being difficult to follow initially) and then down to the estuary.  The walk along the tidal road up into Averton Gifford was hot but pleasant.  I saw a heron and a family of swans with six cygnets.

I found the B&B without any trouble. It took me only a 50 yards off my track.  I was welcomed with a cup of tea.  My room was large but the place was a little old.  The bathroom in particular was strange, the water that came out into the old cast iron bath had bits in!

I went to the pub down the road, The Fishermans Arms, fairly early, had a couple of drinks and then salmon and potatoes.  A pleasant welcoming pub.  I got talking to a local family who had a child about the same age as Sean.  They had the great grandmother there from London who was in her 70's and looked very fit!  I then went back and watched the highlights of the Grand Prix and The Family by Roddy Doyle before going to bed, well tired.

Day: 114 28/5/94 Knighton to Stoke

Weather: Fine     Distance:  21 km (13 miles)     Total Distance: 1427 miles

This was to be the first part of my coastal path walk that I was backpacking.  It just seemed to make sense; hitching was becoming more difficult and I was having to walk long distances at the end of the day sometimes.  There was little public transport on this section and I was not keen on the bike and car option.

I had very much enjoyed planning this holiday; the accommodation and the travelling by train.  I had bought my train tickets from Coventry to Plymouth, Plymouth to Ireland via Holyhead and back to Coventry for £102 (a strange route you may think but I was combining this walk with a holiday to Ireland).

 

The first part of the days walk was a very early start to walk to Coventry station.  My son was not awake when I left the house before 7 o'clock.  In Birmingham it soon became evident why I had had to reserve a seat.  The train was absolutely full.  I sat next to an elderly couple from Derby.  He was a retired steam train driver with some interesting tales.  We passed over the M5 at times where the traffic was stationary on this busy bank holiday weekend.  I had to laugh when at the end of a very smooth journey and arriving in Plymouth 8 minutes early, and having to wait outside the station for a couple of minutes, someone started complaining that BR run the trains with plenty of slack in the timetable in on purpose so they have less chance of having to pay out compensation.

In Plymouth I took a shuttle bus into the centre and then managed to catch an earlier bus than I had planned to Knighton, even though I forgot the name of the place I wanted to go and the bus drivers looked at me very strange when I got my map out!

 

The first part of the walk was on the road, but it was not long before I was stopping to change from my daps into my walking boots to take to country paths.  This part of my planing worked well - changing into daps to do the road parts saved my feet getting sore.  I say daps but they were in fact Nike -Air Cushion; my first proper pair of trainers for many years; expensive but very comfortable.  I had spent a small fortune a couple of weeks previously on a visit to Olympus sports shop on the outskirts of Leicester to get a good anorak and over-trousers, daps and a rucksack.

The path dropped down through some woods, and then across farmland.  I got a little lost coming into Combe and had to backtrack a bit, mainly because I has misread the map - not a good start.  I passed some picturesque parts, past a guide camp but was then thwarted going down a path towards the river; I made it a couple of hundred yards but then the path disappeared.  Back up into Coombe, I bought a pasty for lunch but it was not very nice; and neither was the next section along the main road.  That is the disadvantage with backpacking, it is much harder to jump into the hedgerows. Once off the main road, the remainder of the walk to Newton Ferrers was along minor roads, of minimal interest. It was a shame that there was no path along the estuary to have saved me this road section.

Coming into Newton Ferrers I stopped to buy a drink and food and the owner helped me find my way through the village.  The walk through the top of the village was again not all the impressive but I soon dropped down to the river through a little wood to return eastwards along the road.  Part of the path itself by the estuary was closed because of a collapse so that is why the walking I was along the road.  I passed the International Paint testing station; one of the smaller parts of the Courtaulds empire.  I thought it was ironic that the paint on the sign was all faded.

The tide was out so I was able to walk over the stepping stones to Noss Mayo. It was a larger place than I had imagined, so I stopped at the post office to ask the way to my B&B, but they were new arrivals and did not know. I walked up the river and asked again. By this time I was only a short distance away.  My B&BB was a modern type house perched high above Noss Mayo.  The owners were working in the garden enjoying the sun. I put my stuff in my room and then went down to have a cup of tea.  I did not see much of the owners all my time there, they kept themselves hidden away.

It was still fairly early, so I decided I would walk around the headland, taking advantage of not having to carry my backpack.  After walking back into the village, a walk through a nice wooded area than bought me out onto the headland. There were good views across the different rivers and then over towards the far side of the river at Plymouth, towards Kingsand.  The grass on the headland was very lush. It was like walking through a meadow rather than on a coastal path.

I kept wondering whether to cut back to Noss Mayo shortening the walk, but in the end walked all the way around to Stoke and back on the minor roads.  I had a shower and then went down to the pub for dinner.  It was heavily populated by the Birmingham Navy (as Princess Ann calls them) - those people who jam the M5 on a Friday night towing their boats.  The Good Pub Food Guide had recommended it, but it was very ordinary as far as I could see.  I did not stay too long and went back for a another cup of coffee which the landlady offered me and early an night - it had been a very long day.

Day: 113 2/5/94 Plymouth to Knighton

Weather: Fine    Distance:  20 km (12.4 miles)    Total Distance: 1414 miles

I packed up the tent and left the camp site before most people had even popped their heads out of their tent to see what the weather was doing. I drove the car to Plymouth and parked in the Do-it-All car park; a police car drove in as I was putting on my boots. I was a little unsure if the car would have a ticket on it or been broken into by the time I returned! 

 

The first part of the day's walk was pretty dismal, but at least it was early in the morning and quiet on the industrial estate.  The area was a strange mix of houses and light industry. I guess it was a little like Coventry and bombed heavily leaving an odd mix of old and new. This odd mix continued on the other side of the bridge over the river Plym, which had a disused railway bridge running next to it.

Once off the main road I was into a housing estate, and again getting some strange looks.  I was thankful I had bought the street map of Plymouth because it was again a lot of help.  I stopped at a little shop to buy a drink and other provisions.  The first part of path was closed so I had to backtrack up a road.  The path led into a park and over a causeway and back down the other side by some boats.  I was unnerved by some men acting very suspiciously but could not make out what they were up to.  The path then went around a new sewage works.  I made use of the public toilets near Hoe and then headed towards Turnchaple. I was almost halted because the road around the coast stopped at a navy dock but I managed to find a tiny path and hole in a wall to save me backtracking.

 

Turnchaple was another compact sailing village with very steep roads leading out of it.  I stopped for a break on the dock and drank a canned drink.  There was then a steep climb out of the village southwards and a turn to west.  The road went past a daunting large grey building, Fort Stamford, which appeared to have been converted into a country club, but it was still unattractive in my mind.  Down to the coast again and it opened onto a park type area, Jennycliff, with lots of people walking dogs etc. The next part of the path was along the road the first part of which was an uphill climb.  

It was not too long before the path went away from the road again and along the first nice part of coastal path for a long time.  There were good views across the Sound to Mount Edgcumbe Park.  At Stadden Point I could look down into Bovisand Harbour, which was very actively being used by up to ten inflatables with trainee divers on board.  Bovisand Bay was busy with holiday makers and on the other side  of the bay there was a  caravan and chalet village full of those people who did not want to walk very far!

On the far side of Haybrook Bay, is the start of HMS Camebridge.  The guns were not firing but the path goes very close to those pointing out to sea.  The rest of the walk to Wembury was along low cliffs with the playing fields and rifle ranges of HMS Camebridge on the inside.  At Wembury I had a decision to make; whether to stop there and wait an hour for a bus or to go down to Warren Point and save myself the walk next time.  I decided on the later and pressed on at a fast pace, climbing out of the picturesque village of Wembury and missing out on a cup of tea at the cafe there.

The path was high on the cliffs but it is good walking until the headland at Warren Point.  I take the lower path that cuts down to the River Yealm.  A notice notified walkers that the ferry service had stopped because of a dispute over how much the operators had had to pay for a licence.  Although this did not effect me it must have been devastating for some walkers who were relying on it operating.  The path was now in a very nice wooded area but it was not very clear where it cut back up onto the cliff tops almost doubling back on itself.  I almost ended up in someone's back garden at one stage. Eventually I climbed up onto the cliff top and was very out of breath because I realised I had to make good time in order not to miss my bus.  I met a couple out for a walk and chatted to them for a couple of minutes before making my excuses and carrying on. 

 

Once I had regained the height I had lost, my route cut inland up a farm track, and then along a minor road.  I did not know  where the bus went from but made a decision which way to go on the map and was fortunate enough to come out on the main road right by a bus stop.  The decision of which way to go was made slightly easier by the fact that this was still part of my coastal route.  The last couple of miles was a rush, but in the end I had a fair time to wait for the bus.  The bus stop was on a hill above Knighton, so I watched the bus go down into Wembury and than back again.  The bus bought me all the way back into Plymouth and then I had to walk the short distance out again to the car.  The car park was now much fuller but at least the car was in one piece.

It had been a very enjoyable three days, full of warm and sunny weather. I had enjoyed the camping in particular.  The walking was not the most scenic but at least I had a good stretch ahead of me now and I had the main part of the Plymouth estuary behind me.

Day: 112 1/5/94 Saltash to Plymouth

 Weather: Fine      Distance:  18km (11.2 miles)    Total Distance: 1401 miles

It was a little difficult to wake up since I had enjoyed the previous evening in the pub!  The campsite was now fuller and I had talked to quite a few of the people there so I decided it was safe not to pack up the tent and leave it where it was. I drove to the station and left the car there and started the days walk.  The first part was quite frustrating because it was hilly and almost around in a circle before I found a way onto the Tamar Bridge.  The bridge is high above the river and free to pedestrians.  I remembered on the other side by the toll booths a story I had been told about how the toll collectors had a scam of only declaring a fraction of the cars that passed through the toll and pocketing most of the money and living in luxury.  Their scam had eventually been blown and I guess they had been replaced and a new system introduced.

 

Once off the bridge I doubled back on myself and dropped down to the estuary under the massive pillars of the bridge.  Riverside had a promenade and grassy area and was the nicest part of the days walk.  I cut up through a private residential area and then cut across into a housing estate.  I was relieved to be walking this section on a quiet Sunday morning.  This housing estate was navy owned so was comparatively tidy and well kept, some of the estates I would pass through later in the day were much more depressing.  Access to the southern part of this little peninsula was bared because it was navy property.  I was glad to have the Plymouth road map to work from.  The later part of this estate was grim.  Under the railway, I was on a main road full of shops. I crossed the road and bought snacks and went to the loo.

 

Back on the walk I was fortunate enough to realise that the railway viaduct had a walkway next to it which saved me a stretch.  The path came out on another main road going though a much older area and past the Devonport dockyards guarded by some impressive walls.  The next couple of miles through were more grim estates which were now coming to life. 

 

At Mutton Cove however I got even more depressed by seeing some anglers ripping down a metal fence and throwing it into the sea, all to give themselves a more comfortable place to fish and ignoring the fact that the fence was there for the safety of the children who used the grassy area.  Around the corner from that three young girls approached me and asked if they could walk with me because they had been threatened by a man because they were sitting on a boat.  They walked with me a while before we passed the danger area, then I went over the bridge and down towards Western King Point.  The roads here were crowded because it was the leaving point of the ferry over the estuary to Mount Edgcombe Park.  Having seen what was on this side I was not surprised to see so many people escaping over to the other side.

At Western King Point it was more pleasant and I stopped for a tea and doughnut and ate it in the sun outside a kiosk.  For some reason the way around this peninsular was blocked and I ended up back-tracking past the kiosk again and inland.  Around the dock and seawards again bough me to the busy area of the Hoe.  Although it was extremely crowded here, the sort of place I would normally get very annoyed with, I was more content since it was more pleasant than what I had passed earlier in the day.  The beaches and promenade were full of a mixed age group of people.  At the eastern end there was a attempt to make it into a marina type area.  Once up into the town I found out where the bus station was but walked on a bit to find a convenient place to park the car tomorrow.  Back at the bus station which was in an underground area, I went to enquiries, only to be told that the bus to Saltash left from the main road above.  I picked up a timetable for the bus back at the end of tomorrow's walk.

The bus back to Saltash soon arrived and we rode along some of the bits I had walked along earlier in the day.  In Saltash I popped into a supermarket for a can and also picked up a cheap Wombles video for Sean.  Back at the camp site I lay on a blanket in the sun and relaxed for a while before having a shower, calling home, and then going for tea in the Little Chef services.

 

After tea, I went to Saltash Baptist Church, after calling Margaret and Sean from a telephone box outside the church, I was recently built church not dissimilar to Lawrence Saunders but smaller, and had replaced one burnt down on Christmas night one year by a down and out trying to keep warm.  There was a warm welcome from the small congregation.  The service was short because it was followed by a hymn singing session in the park at the other end of the town as part of the Saltash Festival weekend.  The wind had got up and it was now chilly to say the least.  The minister at the church had been told he was acting as link man between the hymns but it turned out that the committee has meant he was only to say a few closing words - a case of misunderstanding.  The hymn singing was led by the brass band without any links apart from the hymn titles!  I sang heartily with those from Saltash Baptist Church to keep warm.    

 

Back at the camp site I parked the car and then walked briskly down to the pub to warm up.  The man I had been chatting to the previous evening came in with the two young lads, one from RAF in Wiltshire.  They had been taught how to fly fish by the elderly man on a rowing boat on a reservoir.  They were even more sun-burnt than I was.  They could not resist bringing in their catch, about four each, to show us all.  It was a pleasant night but I did not stay too long since I wanted to be in a fit state to get up early and pack the tent away etc.

 

Day: 111 30/4/94 St Germans to Saltash

Weather: Fine     Distance:  21km (13 miles)      Total Distance: 1390 miles

I travelled down to Cornwall the previous evening to a campsite at Notter Bridge, just west of Saltash.  This was to be my last stay in Cornwall as part of this walk - a county with a lot of coastline!  I had found the campsite phone number in a book I had got from the library and from writing to the Tourist Information Centre at Saltash.  I had also enclosed details of my Cornwall clocks but they had not taken up my offer to buy one!  I arrived at the campsite fairly late and called into the gatehouse to find out where to pitch.  It was an unusual site in that the main road split the site in two and access to the campsite was under a small tunnel.  I pitched next to the river, using the lights from my car.  It was too late then to go for a drink so I had an early night.  It took a while to get to sleep because I was not that tired not having walked that day and because of the noise of the river.

 

On the Saturday I took the tent down because I thought I would probably pitch it somewhere else in the field that night and because I was unsure how safe the site was.  I drove to Saltash and eventually found the station. The main street was closed because it was festival weekend.  I caught the 8.20 train to St Germans, a local train but busy with people going to work and with surfers going to New Quay.  It was so busy that the conductor had only just got to me by the time we got to St Germans and because I offered him a five pound note he let me off without paying.  Needless to say there were not many who got off at this quiet village.

Before I had come down I had also written to the Earl of St Germans to ask if I could walk  through his land explaining what I was doing.  He did have the courtesy to reply but declined and said he has once walked from Cornwall to London only on minor roads, doing the last part by boat.  He also declined to buy a clock!  I later found out that my friend Paul had a story to tell about being stuck in a ditch while having a non-authorised driving lesson off his mum in the grounds of Port Elliot while his dad was in a choir practice.

The first part of the walk was thus along the main road, not too busy, but getting hotter by the minute.  I then cut across some fields on a footpath and though a nice wood coming out in the village of Tideford.  There was then not a very nice section along the main road which did not have a footpath only an uneven verge until I cut off again down towards St Erney.  I did not actually go into the village since it was a dead end but went around some of the minor roads.  It was a lovely quiet contrast to the main A38.  I got a couple of suspicious looks of people because there is nowhere to go on this little peninsular unless one has a reason to go to see someone.

 

Back up into the village of Landrake I could avoid the main road for a time by walking the streets in the village, except I got lost at one stage and ended up on as housing estate.  It was not long before I was on the main road again and skirting Notter on the bridge over the campsite.  I breathed a sigh of relief when I left the main road to head down towards St Germans River.  Not far down the road I turned off right to visit the Crooked Inn again - the pub that we had had lunch during our Easter visit.  This time however it was not such a pleasant call - mainly because I had to wait twenty minutes for it to open.  Once up the long drive I sat outside and watched the staff clean up and rescue a set of their keys trapped in a car.  I eventually gave up and opted for a cup of coffee.  There is something to be said for not going back to the same place twice as it is never as good on the second visit.
 

It was then back on thew minor roads again, just taking a minor diversion in Trematon off to the west to walk along a footpath through some fields.  Down near the estuary, but not in sight of the river, I cut off eastwards on a footpath that took me through someone's driveway - I checked with the occupants who were in the garden that I was on the right path.  The path then went through fields and skirted Wivelcombe Farm before trekking through some wooded area near a river - this was very nice and I stopped here for a while out of the sun and got my breath back.  Back up into fields, still following the railway line  and then cut down to the estuary again through some fields.  It was here that I passed by the houses outside which we had stopped last time we were on our way down to Llanreath.  Once through the village I had to cut inland again on the road and over a bridge to find myself in the outskirts of Saltash, past a church with a wedding about to start.

 

A right turn again led me down to the estuary once again to the village of Wearde Quay. There was a path on the maps, past the houses and alongside the railway line.  It was not obvious where the path was on the ground but I pressed ahead through the fields strewn with brambles.  Eventually the path disappeared and for a short while the only way I could make progress without turning back and making a long detour, was to walk alongside the railway line itself and then descend down a steep embankment onto a path and out into the suburbs of Saltash again.  By the time I got back to the car I was very hot, thirsty and pretty tired.  I stopped in a newsagents to get some pop and a paper - I remember the car being very hot!

It was still early so I decided to go to the last rugby match of the season in Plymouth against the league champions Clifton.  I sat in the stand to have a rest.  It was not very full but what crowd were there wee incredibly partisan it was laughable, always claiming Clifton were off side.  Clifton won but it was close and I enjoyed my pasty and tea at half- time.

I returned to the campsite, pitched the tent on the other side of the field from the previous day, showered, and phoned home. The site was now a bit fuller but friendly.  I got talking to one family across the way who had a lad who suffered from a bad skin condition.  The poor fellow had to keep a woolly hat on in this weather.  After that I went down the pub, just outside the campsite expecting an early tea in an empty pub only to realise it was packed full because it was "curry night" and one had to book a table. Eventually I realised that if I volunteered to sit outside, and it was still warm, I could eat their very good curry which I did and then came in to rehydrate a bit more.

Day: 110 7/4/94 Sheviock to St Germans

Weather: Windy/overcast     Distance:  9km (5.6 miles)     Total Distance: 1377 miles

Having lost a days walking at the beginning of the holiday because of the bad rain and my wife being ill, we planned it so that I would do a short walk before lunch and we would travel back to Coventry in the afternoon.  We packed up the car and said goodbye to the Farbrothers.  It had been a good place to stay.

 

My wife dropped me off at the church in Sheviock and then took our son to the beach at Portwinkle for a windy walk.  From the church, I walked North-East down a country lane which later became a footpath thinking that I may be able to walk through the woods at the estuary, but there was signs saying it was private land only through the wood, so I had to backtrack up to the main road which was very frustrating to say the least.  With this possibility exhausted it meant that most of the remainder of the walk was along roads.  It was a fairly non-eventful walk along a moderately busy main road to Polbathic, some of it lined with woods.  Parts of the stretch had road works along it.  From Polbathic to St Germans was a quieter and the first part gained height and offered a view over the river inlet.

Since I was too early to meet my wife, I walked the small circle own to St Germans Quay.  On the way down to the quay, someone asked me if I was lost, I suppose it was an unusual place to see a walker.  Turning left at the river and under a very impressive viaduct, by far the most pleasant part of the days walk.  From there a path led upwards towards the Port Elliot Estate which was well fenced in with tall walls and large gates.

 

St Germans looked a nice village with some old houses.  At the railway station I walked over the bridge and met my wife and son who were waiting for me in the car.  We decided to eat before setting off on the main journey for home so I looked up the Good Beer Guide and found the Crooked Inn at Trematon, only a short drive from St Germans.  It was signposted off the main road and up a long drive full of bends and pot holes with amusing signs such as "this road was built with the aid of a grant from the EEC".  The pub was in a complex of what looked like converted farm buildings which also had an up market bed and breakfast and a children's play area and swimming pool. The most unusual aspect was the animal collection which included a pet goat in the bar.  We ate in the family room upstairs.  The trip home was easy it not being a Saturday. This was added to by my son sleeping for half the trip.

Day: 109 6/4/94 St John to Sheviock

Weather:Cool and overcast Distance: 14.5km (9.0 miles) Total Distance: 1372 miles

My wife dropped me off at the village of St John and then went on to Mount Edgcumbe Country Park with my son. From the pub the walk went down towards the estuary and across a ford. From there it was up a hill, still on the road, before turning right onto a fairly well marked footpath, towards the naval town of Torpoint. I kept an eye out for where I may be able to get down to the coast, but it appeared that it was all MOD property. I thus walked on the landward side of HMS Raleigh, a smart and well protected establishment.

I had bought a street map of Plymouth and surrounding areas the previous day in Mount Edgcumbe, which came in very useful in finding my way around the back streets of Torpoint, initially via a navy housing estate. I could tell it was owned by the MOD because all the lawns were being tended to by contractors. My route then took me along the estuary-front lined with bungalows before it led into the older part of the town and past the ferry landing. Up onto the main road for a while before taking a turn to the right, down some back streets and through a park. I got a little lost in trying to find my way back onto the main road but only had a short walk before turning off down to the quiet hamlet of Wilcove. I bought a drink in the pub overlooking the estuary and drank it outside.

Some quiet lanes and footpaths bought me out to the front of St Antony House, a National Trust property. There was still no obvious right of way along the coast according to the map so I continued on some more difficult-to-find footpaths up to the main road. This left a rather long stretch of road walking to meet my wife at Sheviock. The wooded area along side the road made the walking a bit more pleasant in parts. A walk without a great deal of picturesque places but I was taken with the pub at Wilcove.

We went back ti St Antony House, but since my son had just woken up we did not go around the house but just wandered around the garden for a while, though it was a little difficult to entertain him. We then went to the beach atHannafore (West Looe). The waves were big which scared my son, so we did not make any sand castles. We had tea in East Looe in a restaurant just near the bridge; nothing much more complicated than chips and things. My wife took my son to the shop next door and bought a little toy car to keep him happy while we waited for the food to arrive.

 

Day: 108 5/4/94 Cawsand to St John

Weather: Cold and showers   Distance:  15km (9.3 miles)    Total Distance: 1362 miles

 

 

My wife kindly dropped me off in the car park which is on the hill above the village of Cawsand.  Margaret then went down the beach with Sean to make sand-castles.  I walked through the narrow streets of Cawsand and Kingsand and then found the path into Mount Edgcombe Country Park.  The paths at this stage were very good but a little muddy.  A couple of children hiding up a tree had me well fooled.  They were making animal noises and I stood there for a while peering up into the branches looking for an unusual animal.  The park is open to the public.  The first part of the walk necessitated some detours inland.  A minor road ran to the seawards side of the path but access to it was difficult and it was obvious that pedestrians were encouraged to keep to the path so I complied.
 

At the Cremyll end of the park, there was a series of landscaped gardens littered with the ruins of old fortifications.  The path came out in the main entrance to the park by a tea room in an orangery and a gatehouse converted into a tourist centre.  This is where the passenger ferry from Plymouth drops people off.  The city of Plymouth looked very close at this point but it was quite a few days walk until I would be on the opposite bank.  The path then went along the banks of the river and was muddy in parts.  The walk up to Millbrook was then along a narrow road with some nice cottages overlooking the estuary.  It was bin day and I shadowed a bin lorry for a couple of miles, not out of choice, walking at the same pace as they worked.

                                             

At Millbrook, there was a bridge over the river which led to the football ground.  There was a footpath marked on the map but I had to climb over a fence to gain access to it and then along the river past a couple of boat yards.  I cut back onto the main road at Southdown through a field.  The road then led back into the village of Millbrook, past a scruffy housing estate and then onto a hilly country road all the way to St John.

 

Margaret drove past me on the road; she had had trouble in finding the middle of the village of St John because of the lack of signposts.  Just after she drove past me again driving back into the village, it started to pour with rain, but it was only a short walk into the village by then. We parked the car and went into the quiet pub, the St John Inn, in the village for a drink.

 

In the afternoon we went back to Mount Edgcombe Country Park for afternoon tea until Sean started to get a bit bored and then a chase around the trees and huts in the gardens to tire him out a bit.  Back at Rowan Lodge, Sean spent time playing with their granddaughter before we were served with roast lamb for tea followed by an evenings conversation with Trev and Ken.