Feeling somewhat unclean after a few nights wild camping, I made a quick decision to wash in the small stream beside my camping spot. Before I thought of how cold it was and whether an early morning jogger would pass I stripped and splashed water over all the sticky, sweaty, smelly parts of my body. A very brief performance I was soon dressed again and climbing out of my little valley. I left with some regret as it was an excellent camping spot with soft even turf, as good as any mattress. Too often the rough grass is lumpy and tussocky, forcing you to adjust your sleeping position to match the shape of the ground.
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| Green seas crashing onto the rocks |
As I walked along the cliffs today the multiple sea stacks reminded me of the "12 Apostles", the much vaunted stacks in Australia. With the green foaming white waves crashing upon the rocky shore here, its caves and arches looked just as good, maybe better. Skylarks were singing. Pink thrift, yellow gorse and a multitude of flowers gave the early morning a gay atmosphere. There is little better than a morning walk before breakfast to make a coffee and croissant a heavenly treat, so I was delighted that I could purchase them (and an oaty apricot affair) at Porthcothan Bay Stores. Apologies to the lady with the Harrods bag for holding her up while the shop's staff kindly filled my platypus (this was basically a strong plastic bag to hold drinking water). A gentleman told me of a bench 10 minutes walk away where I enjoyed my breakfast overlooking the bay. A whippety dog was racing around the beach, kicking up sand, playing ball with his owner.
Reaching the sands of Constantine Bay, I headed inland to cut off two headlands. As I am walking from Land's End to John o'Groats, I did not feel the compunction to round every headland that I might if my objective was to hike the South West Coast Path. Walking across a clear, dry path through fields of green crops was also a pleasant way to reach the town of Padstow. Passing a church in the outskirts, I gave a few words of thanks inside, then wandered through the streets by the harbour, crowded with tourists, in search of some lunch. As I bought a crab sandwich and some cake, the lady serving warned me that the seagulls were particularly aggressive in their desire for your food (although I gained the impression they were more interested in people's fish and chips).
Although purists would argue that you should not use ferries if you are to walk every step of the way to John o'Groats, I would disagree. Ferries over rivers are just rather mobile bridges, tracing their spans from one side to the other. So I donned my face mask and took the boat to the village of Rock on the other side of the river. I had earlier spotted an inn which was able to open to tourists under Covid regulations as it had self contained accommodation. I immediately booked but foolishly did not check exactly where it was. I discovered it was in a settlement called "Pityme" (why I wondered) 40 minutes walk in the wrong direction from the Rock. Worth it for a shower, beer and a chance wash some clothes.
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