The Fantastic Poles!

How we didn't discover this earlier, much earlier, we're not sure but the answer to making progress through mud is walking poles. I've had them for ages and never used them in earnest until now but they were a revelation as we strode sure-footed along the muddy tracks (often back to oxtail soup, if you've been following). So, bring on the Poles (I'm trying to think of a Brexit reference here and failing, so add your own).

Good progress today, 13 miles and ahead of schedule. Full summary as usual here. 
Started at Gorran Haven but nearly unrecognisable from yesterday as it was high water on unusually high spring tides.

If you remember Mevagissey, with the inner harbour dryed out, today the water was right up to the harbourside level. If that coincided with a storm (like Emma, recently) it's easy to see how there was such significant damage

From there a stiff climb out but having now realised the benefits of walking poles, much easier than before. Both feeling pretty stupid at this late revelation, we put it down to snobbishness - not wanting to look like those old blokes doddering about, until we realised that's exactly what we are. Wonderful thing, self awareness.

Out to Dodman point, the highest headland on the South Cornwall coast and the site of an Iron Age promontory fort, it merits a mention in the shanty Spanish Ladies (no, I don't know the tune but it sure sounds dubious). There is a large stone cross there erected by the local vicar to help as a waymark for shipping. Not as effective as the Gribbin (and Polruan) which we've been able to see for the last two days and has finally slipped round the corner.


From there it's a long series of ups, downs, steps and mud as we follow the path round its various twists and turns. Occasional encounters with villages, though not many, like Hemmick Beach and later Caerhays castle. This was clearly no defensive castle, to judge by its position but it's still pretty impressive and was designed by Nash some 200 years ago. It is famous for its gardens which were started by plant hunters in China and bred the first x williamsii camellias, oh yes.

From there the route next reaches the Porthollands, West and East. Joined by a precarious sea wall and with very substantial sea defences so clearly they've had their share of damaging storms. An impressive torrent of overnight storm run off into the bay. I like these small slightly scruffy places with no pretensions but they are like they are partly because Cornwall is the poorest county in England. Poorer than Lithuania and Hungary according to the New Statesman in 2016.

Despite how it looks, Crispin isn't about to throw up - more obsessed with trying to get Apple's GPS to work (so "it just works" huh?).

From there down into Portloe.

 Karen and I stayed here once at the Lugger Hotel, misguided by a recommendation from the Independent, but it is a lovely village. On the Roseland peninsular, which is a forgotten but beautiful corner of Cornwall, it still has working fishing boats. The harbour and the hotel have featured in a number of films: “Crooks in Cloisters” (1963: Barbara Windsor, Bernard Cribbins, Wilfrid Bramble, Corin Redgrave) sounds like a must-see though much of it was actually filmed in St Mawes.

By now we're on the last leg to Carne beach but there's still 3 miles of headlands, mud and hills to go (there does seem to be a bit of a theme here, but the SWCP is rather wet and hilly). We got to Nare Head with much rejoicing only to have an 'Ice Cold in Alex' moment as we realised there was still one headland to go and even then a long trek down to the beach. Nare head has an old cold war bunker built in the 60s and now maintained by the Royal Observer Corps. There is also an old WW2 bunker from which the Royal Navy, assisted by British film studios, operated decoy lighting and other effects to persuade bombers to drop their ordnance here instead of Falmouth. They succeeded 768 times during the course of the war.

Finally, and with much mutual congratulations, down to Carne Beach owned by the National Trust. We repaired to the Nare Hotel where we were warmly welcomed despite our spattered appearance and cossetted back to normality with a large pot of tea and selection of cakes. Wonderfully friendly staff, so welcoming that we considered delaying our ride back to St Austell to pick up the cars. A massage sounded a much better idea. It is a wonderful place, though the rooms can be ruinously expensive, and is a must to visit if you get a chance. Karen and I stayed here for an anniversary some years ago and absolutely loved it. I still have some driftwood that she insisted on bringing home, though we never made anything with it.

So tomorrow we're aiming to make it to St Mawes, depending on the ferry at Place which is operating at odd times just now because of the spring tides. Since there's not actually a path to walk between here and Falmouth (just ferries) we reckon that justifies us starting the subsequent leg from there, easing the logistics considerably. Cheating a little bit perhaps, but it's not like we're using sandpaper on the ball (ask a cricketer if you don't get this).

Earlier finish than usual but Crispin's still nodded off already.

Peter