Rock to Port Isaac

There are little balls of wet falling - what are they? Oh wait, it's rain! That wasn't forecast. Suits me, though, don't want it too hot. Today's target is Port Isaac where the fun starts (aka the Severe section) tomorrow. The trip had its moments today but all well eventually. Route summary and pictures on Komoot here.

So goodbye to the Camel estuary, looking quite different this morning, not least as it's full of water today. Guess that happens a lot

Not the best day for photos as the mist persisted for most of the day I'm afraid. Polzeath was the first place on the route and judging by the size of the enormous car park it's fearfully busy in summer. You can see why as its a safe and surfing beach.

Polzeath is famous (?) for the fact that the Famous Five didn’t holiday here – in the first novel of the series the children expressed disappointment that their holiday was not to be spent, as usual, at Polzeath. It has been a favourite destination for both David Cameron and John Betjeman.

In 1991 the BBC used Polzeath as the eponymous location for “Tresoddit for Easter” – can’t say I remember it.

Just around the corner from this it all starts to get a bit rocky and I met a volunteer waiting for help to rescue this abandoned (by its mother) seal pup which had apparently been on the beach all night. It wasn't looking too bad but clearly needed attention. Apparently there's a seal sanctuary nearby.

It's not easy to see but (s)he's on the shingle just to the left of the rocks.












From there it's up to Pentire Point where, according to the book, there are the best views on the whole SWCP. Hmm, well not today. This view is looking North. Or maybe South. Not sure.

Actually it wasn't that bad 😀 but it was pretty misty. There's a plaque on the headland to say that the WW1 poem that I've already blogged about somewhere else was actually composed here. I'll let them fight it out. From here it's through the Rumps and the remains of a hill fort. You can just see the ramparts from the other side of the bay. Apparently.

The Rumps

All along here spring has really got going and the bluebells in particular were a sight.
They seem to thrive on hillsides here whereas I'm used to them being woodland plants. the garlic was powerful today as well and the foxgloves are just starting to appear.




The path is clear and well trodden from here and next up is Lundy Bay and the Lundy Hole

Lundy Bay

Lundy Bay

Lundy Hole

By now I'm starting to get peckish and looking forward to lunch - how habits have changed. One thoughtful friend (no names but you know who you are Pike) suggested I just might have more energy after stopping for "a little something" so I had hopes for Port Quin - just up the path and I'd get there spot on lunch time. Desolated to find that the OS showed no cafe, but elated to find a van selling BLTs among other health foods, and that the just-departing 16 teenaged hikers from New Jersey had left some for me. Guess what - Charlie was right: who knew?
Port Quin is tiny though for some reason I'd expected it to be bigger.

The cottages on the harbour are all holiday lets (as is the big house up the road) and it's really not a surfing beach so it was very quiet. Beautifully so. Although small now, the size of the fish cellars in Port Quin show it used to be quite prosperous. the economy was mainly based on pilchards but this was also where granite from Lundy quarries was landed. There were also some small local tin mines.

It also has, on a headland on the approaches to the harbour, an old Victorian folly - Castle Droyden, built about 1830 by a Samuel Symons (a late Regency bon viveur from Wadebridge). As I was taking a picture I remembered that this is where the fantasist pharmacist in Doc Martin goes loopy. You had to see it - too long to explain.

Much refreshed and refuelled, onwards and inevitably upwards onto Kellen Head. From here there would be a natural path along the drystone wall but because the farmer's fence is 30 ft downhill from that the path has to go through many convolutions to find a route along what's left. This means as you've probably sussed a lot of up and down. Still, good practice for the section tomorrow 😕.

So by now I'm feeling pleased that I'm nearly at Port Isaac: and then I met a woman from Montreal who is terrified of the cows in a field that is on our route, so I agreed to walk with her. No problem, I thought, done this loads of times, just ignore them or shoo them away.

These 'cows' (actually yearling bullocks I found out later) hadn't read the instructions though and were very lively, starting to jump up and down, heads lowered, wanting me to play. This is one of the offenders, he kept staring like that for some while

Not good, I'm no toreador and anyway I haven't a cape. Or a sword. Plus they're bigger than I am. The two of us (me and Ms Montreal, not me and the bullock) then spent 20 minutes in a quiet corner waiting for them all to calm down and ignore us before we could move on.

So arrived in Port Isaac, seems like only a couple of days since I was here.

Now, today's cock up was leaving some clothes behind in the B&B in Newquay so I needed to get a cab back to the car in Rock, then to Newquay, then back to the B&B for tonight in Port Isaac. Easy, huh? Er, no. No mobile signal, the cab only goes up to the park and ride and anyway his phone's not on line.

I walked up to the B&B and Julian's son then very kindly took me to Rock. What nice folks. Fellow guests (from California) had already heard the 'cows' story ("saved by a very nice 'young man' " 😊) and in the pizza restaurant later the waitress knew the cattle involved and the man from the Port Quin van hailed me like an old friend. I already feel like I'm part of the community.
Incidentally they're filming here at the moment the story of Fisherman's Friends.

Fascinating facts on Port Isaac will have to wait until tomorrow I'm afraid: I need my restorative sleep ahead of tomorrow's challenging walk to Tintagel. Sun forecast so hopefully better visibility.
Only two more days this trip - distance now under 160 miles.

Peter