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Cadgwith to Porthoustock and I’m done

Cows look in on the tents at Cadgwith Camping

The rain sets in at Cadgwith harbour as I rejoin the path

I take refuge in The Loft at Coverack. The best flat white and cheese toasty ever

Just 5 miles to go

The sun emerges as I approach Porthoustock

The SWCP midway marker on Porthoustock beach. 315 miles done, 315 miles to go.

Camping in the Orchard and breakfast at the amazing Fat Apple Café

The kind folk at Cadgwith Camping see me on my way with a full battery and a flask of tea — all that a solo hiker really needs. I pick up the path in the harbour. Drizzle turns to full-on rain by 11 o’clock — the kind that tests your waterproof and drips down into your boots. Visibility is poor and I lose my way in the mist a couple of times. Eight miles of this and ‘The Loft Café’ in the harbour at Coverack comes as a welcome relief.

I emerge, a cheese toasty and two excellent flat whites later, to bright sunshine. Just five more miles along pebble beaches, huge cranes busy in the vast craters of blasted rock to my left — this is stone-mining territory.

And I’m done — for now. I take a picture of SWCP the midway marker on Porthoustock Beach — 315 (at least) miles from that first marker in Minehead, Sommerset, just over four years ago.

I spend my last night in the wild orchard of the fabulous Fat Apple Café nearby, watching baby deer from my tent. The owner proudly shows me the corner where Raynor and Moth sat with their pot of hot water, to save on the cost of a cup of tea. He said, ‘If only I’d known — I’d have given them breakfast’.

Mullion to Cadgwith

Breakfast at Porthmellin Café, Mullion Harbour

Chocolate making in Mullion

Wild horses in the Pradanack Nature Reserve

The Bishop Islands

Crowds near the Lizard car park

The Lloyd’s signal station on the Lizard, built in 1872 as a communications hub for passing ships

Shadows lengthening 12 miles in

Literally the Best Campsite Ever

No tent to pack this morning, hooray. I sleep in late, reluctant to leave the safety and comfort of an actual bed. I skip the hotel-cooked breakfast and have a flat white and cheese toasty in the excellent Mullion Cove café by the harbour, before rejoining the path once more.

The sun is lighting up the rocks and sea once again. I walk past Mullion Island and through Pradannack Wollas nature reserve.

I take a two mile detour through gorse animal tracks to avoid a herd of cows. It’s tough going, and when I eventually join the path an hour or so later there’s a second herd grazing just up ahead.

I turn the corner at Lizard Point to be greeted by a huge crowd filling the tiny cove and spilling out of the car park, cafés and gift shops. I resist a cup of tea in Britain’s Most Southern Café and drink tea from my flask on the top of the cliff in splendid isolation about a mile further on.

It takes most of the day to walk around the Lizard and then Housel Bay. I leave the path at the Cadgwith Campsite around 7pm. It’s unexpectedly ace. Right next to the path and the sea, hot showers in little wooden huts, a hiker’s tent corner — by now us solo hikers are beginning to recognise each other — and best of all, a food van serving meatballs and pasta and ice cold Beer. I lie in the tent watching the sun go down. All well tonight.

Perranuthroe to Mullion

Crossing Praa Sands as the sun breaks through

The sand gives way to rolling hills

The harbour at Portleven and Natalie’s harbour walk

A tea break and a phone call with Noah

Sea on the left and freshwater lake on the right at Looe Bar

Gunwalloe Bay, last cove before Mullion

Fourteen miles later, so happy to be here tonight

The sun is breaking through the clouds this morning, hooray! The kind folks at the campsite discuss the merits of sticking to the path versus taking the road and shaving a couple of miles off the journey, whilst preparing my flask of tea and cooking me a croissant. Shaving the miles wins today. I have A Destination. An actual bed in a pub in Mullion 14 miles away.

I arrive in Praa Sands around 11. I learn that it is equally acceptable to rhyme it with Bay or Bra; the latter does not reveal that you come from Guildford. A coffee and a cake from the beach café is tempting but I plough on and arrive in Porthleven a couple of hours later.

Portleven is a delightful large harbour surrounded by cafés, restaurants, shops and galleries. My friend Natalie’s lovely hand-made book has won the Portleven Art Prize and I stop to admire it on show in the Net Loft gallery. An artist in the gallery tells me that he walked from his mother’s house in Basingstoke to his home in Bath after she died.

The going is gentler after Portleven, and truly stunning. The National Trust- protected pebble strip of Looe Bar runs between the sea and a fresh water lake for three miles. It’s almost empty. Eventually the beach gives way to gentle rolling hills and coves round Gunwalloe Bay to Mullion.

I sink a pint, eat hot food at the bar and marvel at the en suite and clean sheets. I’m a bit sun burned and blistered tonight, but all ok.

Mousehole to Perranuthnoe

Leaving Mousehole in drizzle

Political coastal gardening

Newlyn’s exports: fresh fish…

… and sea art

A swim at the beautiful Jubilee salt water lido in Penzance

St Michael’s Mount emerges from the mist

I wake to a misty drizzle, figure it’s not going to pass and pack up the wet tent. I recover in a café in beautiful Mousehole and then follow the boardwalk out of town for 5 miles through the working fishing ports of Newlyn and Penzance.

It’s fun to be in a town again and a welcome relief from steps. I watch the boats come in and out, have a second café stop in the Newlyn Gallery and swim in the beautiful salt water lido in Penzance.

St Michael’s Mount appears out of the mist and I join the coastal path once more. I decide a shorter day is needed and pitch my tent a couple of hours later in the ‘hiker’s corner’ of a campsite near the path at around 5pm. They are making wood-fired pizzas on site. A Dutch fellow hiker tells me he walks the path because it lets him ‘look at the life, from all the views’.

And so it does.

Lands End to Mousehole

I leave my walking poles in the toilet at Lands End

The sun is out and the going is (mostly) easy

Heather and gorse against Cornish blue

A beacon, pasty and swim at Porthgwara

First view of Porthcurno from the Minack Theatre, sadly inaccessible without a ticket

Through St Buryan, and later Lamorna

Thirteen miles later, Mousehole and a night in the grounds of Mousehole FC

I start the day by leaving my walking poles in the toilet at Lands End. By the time I clock they are missing I am half way to Porthcurno and going back is unthinkable.

The south coast of Cornwall is as lovely as the north, and apart from two or three monster climbs the going is easier. The gorse and heather are in flower, a crazy purple and yellow patchwork quilt against an azure sea.

Three hours in I stop for my first pasty and flat white of the walk, followed by a swim in the tiny but delightful Porthgwarra cove.

After that I crack on. The Kamut app tells me I average 2.2 miles an hour. Whatever, it takes me all day to cover the 13 or so miles to Mousehole, a welcome sight at the end of the day. Mousehole FC have made their grounds and facilities available to hikers. Yay. I’m tired. But all well.

It could be my imagination, but there’s a softness that seems to wrap you in a South West embrace somewhere around about Exeter. Persistent rain streaks the Great Western train windows and a gentle mist descends first on the muddy flats of the River Ex, the terraced houses flanking the railway around Plymouth, the fishing boats far below Albert Bridge after Saltash, and then the rolling green hills as we journey through Liskeard - Bodmin Parkway - Par - St Austell - Truro - St Erth and finally Penzance.

I am hoping the rain is for Travel Day only. The start of another long solo walk and wild camping expedition is bringing up a familiar and not entirely comfortable anxiety, that I know from experience is much lessened if things stay more or less dry. Thankfully the weather app is showing reassuring semi-sunny, cloudy, windy icons for the next seven days.

I catch the £2 Coaster Bus to the Lands End bunk house. A quick half in the First and Last Inn a little way up the road, a re-acquainting with my old friend the Cicerone Guide and I’m tucked up by 10. So far, so good.

#swcp

It could be my imagination, but there’s a softness that seems to wrap you in a South West embrace somewhere around about Exeter. Persistent rain streaks the Great Western train windows and a gentle mist descends first on the muddy flats of the River Exe, the terraced houses flanking the railway around Plymouth, the fishing boats far below Albert Bridge after Saltash, and then the rolling green hills as we journey through Liskeard - Bodmin Parkway - Par - St Austell - Truro - St Erth and finally Penzance.

I catch the £2 Coaster Bus to the Lands End bunk house. A quick half in the First and Last Inn a little way up the road, a happy hour re-acquainting myself with my old friend the Cicerone Guide and I’m tucked up by 9. So far, so good.

Lands End

And so I made it. After 272 sometimes long and sometimes lonely miles, I arrive at Lands End as a three. We cross off the inevitable Lands End Experience where the path has suddenly become a super highway, and have breakfast together in the Sennen Cove café. Thanks for following me! ‘Til next time.

Pendeen to Lands End

At Pendeen watch after a night on the beach

Drying off over breakfast in the fabulous café at Geevor Tin Mine

Rain stops and a windy 6 miles to Cape Cornwall

Cape Cornwall. Where the Irish Sea meets the Bristol Channel. We celebrate with a cup of tea.

Lands End is now a short hop away, and a visitor walks towards us.

…

We wake to the unwelcome sound of drizzle on the tent. We pack up and are on our way by 8. I am desperate for coffee but I know we have a long day ahead and Pendeen seems too far off the path, so we crack on in the steady rain.

Our luck turns a couple of hours later when we meet a warden at the Geevor Tin Mine who directs us to the café museum which is just opened and serving breakfast.

We set off again dry (er) and happy. Just five more miles of (mostly) easy walking before Cape Cornwall appears on in the horizon. It’s a milestone moment, that marks the meeting of seas on a wild and windy point. Lands End comes into view…

And so does Mike. He’s booked a cottage in Sennen Cove for a comfortable last night. A shower, curry, a night with friends in The North Inn at Pendeen and a BED awaits. Thank you Mike!

St Ives to Pendeen

Cornish colours in the early morning as I leave St Ives

First cream tea of the walk

10 miles down, three miles to go

The magic beach appears just before Pendeen Watch.

Watching the sunset from my tent

…

The coast path from St Ives is a bit messy. At one point I am scaling huge boulders hoping that at some point the path will emerge again.

It’s hot and I run out of water. I’m about to leave the path to go search for water in one of the nearby holiday cottages when I pass my walker friend from the day before. She gives me water and we walk on together.

We find a beautiful cottage garden cafe close to the path and I have my first cream tea of the walk.

Towards the end of the day we see Portheras Cove and make our way down for a swim in the sea. It’s fabulous. My new friend is more organised than me. She has a stove to make tea from the fresh water stream that runs into the beach. We pool provisions for supper, pitch our tents and watch the sun go down. I fall asleep listening to the waves.

Godrevy to St Ives

I join the path just before Godrevy Point, lighthouse in the distance

Breakfast on Gwithian Beach

Warned not to walk along the beach at high tide, I follow the path through the dunes

I meet a fellow middle-aged solo female — first of the walk — and we share a coffee at the Cove café in Hayle

First view of St Ives from the bus station

Barbara Hepburn’s garden and workshop in St Ives

Fearless gulls nick chips from your hand

…

A delightful coffee and breakfast on Gwithian beach by Godrevy lighthouse, followed by a happy sand dune hike along Upton Towans Beach. Rather than follow the roads around the estuary at Hayle, I make the bold decision to jump on a bus to St Ives. Emboldened by one decadent move I make another, and check into the Bay Hotel. I spend the afternoon first in a bar, then in the fabulous Barbara Hepburn garden and workshop, and then with fish and chips on the beach. Battery pack sorted, three days of blog posted (my mum was the only one to have noticed its demise as far as I can tell) and loving the hot shower, bed and PILLOW tonight. All well.

Perranporth to Poltreath

Packed up and back on the path by 8

Old tin mines near St Agnes

Breakfast at the beach café

The going gets tough later

Arriving in Poltreath, still nearly two hours to the camp site

…

Majestic chimneys from disused tin mines dominate the path around St Agnes. They are beautiful, and ghostly. I could easily imagine centuries of mine workers living out their (short, brutal) lives on the cliffs.

The day becomes an anxious one as I realise my charger has died and my phone is likely to die soon too. It’ll be two days before I can recharge, so for now I turn it off and start to rely more on following signs and asking people directions. I find, to my surprise that I enjoy being phone-free— everyone is so friendly — but also, not to rely on their directions which are invariably given from a car driver’s perspective. So, the farm campsite outside Poltreath which was ‘five minutes up the road’ was an hour and half slog.

Grateful thanks to the fellow camper who made me a cup of tea when I finally limped in at 7pm, and also to the kind couple who offered to drive me back to the path in the morning. All well.

Newquay to Perranporth

Ferry across the Gannel Estuary

I hit the dunes on the other side. It’s exhausting.

First view of Perran beach

Still walking along it nearly two hours later

Evening setting over the heathland near Trevellas where I spend the night.

…

A flat white this morning at the delightful Fern Pit Cafe and ferry crossing point. It’s high tide so I ask the ferryman to take me across the Gannel Estuary*. I cross the sand dunes at Crantock beach, happy to leave Newquay behind.

The going seems jollier than I remember. Lots of people ask where I’ve come from, where I’m going and wish me luck. Father and daughter backpackers from Land End tell me there’s an easy few days ahead (hooray) but I need to brace for scrambling and boulders after St Ives. Good to know.

I walk for several hours round Kelsey Head and then Pendal Point, where I am rewarded with a first view of the three miles of white sand that is Perran beach. The tide is out and I walk from end to end and celebrate with a bitter shandy when I’m done.

No camping at Perranporth. Too busy. I continue on round Trevellas head and pitch my tent for the night, twelve miles done. So tired.

* I don’t pay him till the other side, obvs.

Back to the path

I read a theory that your back pack is full of your fears. If you fear hunger, it’s full of food. Sickness, and it’s full of hygiene products and first aid items. Cold, and it’s full of clothes. My fears don’t want to be pinned down, because I’ve spent the last few days in a state of low level anxiety, taking things out and reinstating them. Do I need / fear this thing enough to carry it on my back for the next 10 days?*

And so it is that I find myself with the much edited back pack (too late now) on the fast Paddington-Newquay train to resume my journey on the South West Coastal path, which has, by now, become a summer routine.

Attentive readers of this blog will be puzzling how it is that I can *start in Newquay* this time around, when you last heard from me in Padstow, at least 20 miles north… Keep faith… I have indeed done the miles, but Padstow was where I hooked up with my friend Alice, and frankly, I was having too much fun to keep you updated. However, Alice is an expert landscape and wildlife photographer, so here’s some of her pics of our camping, sea swimming and yurt adventures last summer.

And so, back to Newquay, that bustling, polluted commercial break in the Cornwall coastline. I check into the Newquay Travelodge — where else? — and prepare to set off in the morning. All well.

*Or, bigger question, for the rest of my days?

Cliff top camping at Porthcothan. Photos: Alice

Tintagel to Padstow

I rejoin the path at Lundy Bay

The path overlooks a steep drop to Lundy Hole

Leaving Carnweather point behind

First view of the Rumps

A refreshing breeze as I circle the headland

Polzeath appears in the distance

Surfers catching the waves on Polzeath beach

Perfect lunch stop at the Tubestation, surfer’s café

I hit the dunes around Daymer Bay. Hot hot hot.

Finally, the ferry port! Rock to Padstow

Sun sets over Padstow

In the Cicerone guide to the SWCP, Paddy Dillon advises firmly against taking the bus ‘lest it become a habit’. But then again, Paddy probably didn’t hike from Tintagel to Port Isaac in a heatwave. I pick up the path again at Lundy Hole, the point at which he declares ‘the toughest climbs of the day are largely done’.

[Note to self: retrace the tough Port Isaac to Port Quin section when you are older and greyer]

After a short climb I hit the Rumps. The journey round the headland is magical, with dramatic drops into clear blue Cornish sea. An exhilarating breeze greets me as I turn the point and cools me from the midday sun. Eventually I make my final ascent to reveal Polzeath beach far below, dotted with literally hundreds of surfers catching the waves.

Decent coffee and a cheese toastie from the surfers’ Tubestation café in Polzeath before I begin the long trudge around the dunes. It’s hot and exhausting. I’m grateful to see the ferry port in the late afternoon to catch a ride across to Padstow, and even more grateful to see Alice waiting on the jetty for me. Much as I enjoy solo hiking it is fantastic to enjoy her company in such a beautiful place. We eat mussels and chips and drink wine, and later affogatos at the fabulous Italian on the harbour.

Crackington Haven to Tintagel

First coffee at the farm shop right on the path and overlooking the sea

It’s beautiful in the cool of the early morning

First view of Boscastle

The Museum of Witches

The look out on the site of the old iron fort overlooking the harbour

Revived by my freshwater stream shower

First view of Tintagel

My great grandfather and grandmother’s grave overlooking Tintagel Castle

The sunlight streams through the open tent door. I pack up the tent and am on my way before 8. A magical coffee stop at the Farm Shop right on the path and overlooking the sea. I descend into Boscastle a mile or so later. I am fascinated by the apparently renowned Boscastle Museum of Witches, and stop for a bit to listen to an animated conversation about the healing powers of various crystals. I’m sad to leave Boscastle; it’s one of the prettiest villages yet and the clear sea breaking on a soft white beach is enticing. More steps. And a bit of rock climbing which is not easy with a back pack. The heat intensifies. I give myself a water-bottle shower from a freshwater stream. The cold water is lovely but I am dry only minutes later. Six gruelling miles to Tintagel where I collapse in a bar. They have a room. I take it even though my plan was to get a bit further today and camp.

Most of Tintagel seems to be suffering from a revival of black letter and Celtic runes. And either Arthur or Merlin seem to have once visited all the pubs, cafés and crystal shops too. It’s not very nice tbh, but I am too tired (and a bit sunburnt) to worry about that. Plus, I am on a mission. My great grandfather and grandmother are buried in the churchyard overlooking Tintagel castle. It takes me while to find it. I have my first Cornish pasty of the walk overlooking Merlin’s cave, and retire to my room over the pub. All well.

Bude to Crackington Haven

I leave Bude behind

The path is wide and easy to Widemouth Bay

It gets tougher later

My magic tree refuge when the sun got too fierce

And finally, Crackington Haven

Watching the sun go down from sleeping bag. So tired.

The sun was already hot at 9 o’clock when I pick up the path by the harbour. A wide grassy path runs the top of the cliff with stunning views of an azure sea all the way to Widemouth Bay. The terrain is less kind around Lizard’s point and I am starting to flag on the endless steps in the fierce heat. The owner of a Grand Designs house on the path gives me a can from his fridge and fills my bottle with iced water. It’s not till late afternoon that I make my final descent into Crackington Haven and an greeted by the welcome sight of The Combe Barton. They have beer and food, hooray, but no room, so I pitch my tent a bit further up the coast and watch the sun go down. Fifteen miles done. All ok.

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