I walked the first seven miles of this path at Easter and on returning to Tintagel I was looking forward to completing the whole stretch from Crackington Haven to Tintagel. The day was grey with a gusty wind and the promise of sunshine which never materialised. I disembarked the bus at the entrance to the bay at Crackington, wandered down to the sea, collected two interesting stones - one for my pot and one to throw into the water at Tintagel - reset my GPS and got underway.
The first climb 100m to Cambeak certainly wakes the legs and lungs up. Up, down then up again to the first peak where I stopped for five minutes to get my breath back and use my binoculars. From here I could see the headland of Tintagel far along the coast - probably less than eight or nine miles as the crow flies but much further thanks to the in-and-out, up-and-down nature of the cliffs. The next walk up to the nameless cliff at Trevigue past The Strangles beach is one of the toughest on the walk and had me puffing away once I finally got to the top. The view of the walk to High Cliff fills you with dread at just how long the path is but it's deceptive. Although it's long, the climb itself gets easier after the first two-thirds and you get to the top wondering what all the mental fuss was about.
I stopped again at High Cliff, which is almost in heaven for me. The highest cliff in Cornwall is very windy at 223m, or 734ft on the GPS, but a great spot for a refill and a moment to yourself.
The walk down off High Cliff is lovely, across a lower cliff then up, double-back and zig-zag your way up the steep cliff-side past Rusey Cliff. Coming down the other side, a cheery farmer was trying to encourage very resilient cows down the steep slopes to graze on better land. Around Buckator and up and around Beeny Cliff where I took the coastal path instead of the optional route. Last time I was here, the wind was so strong I opted for the optional track which kept away from perilous rocky edges and went across the fields towards Pentargon Falls. I was pleased to take the more difficult route this time as it kept faithfully to the edge of the cliff and seemed to make the walk more complete.
Up until the falls at Pentargon I'd not really felt any strain in my legs. The descent was fine - a couple stopping me to ask where I'd come from and where I was going. They said it was the best coastal path they'd ever done and they seemed experienced; when I told them that High Cliff was along the way they seemed elated that the best was yet to come. It was on the ascent from the waterfall towards Penally that my legs began to shout - a few dozen steep steps up the cliffside and me pushing on my thighs again to encourage them to work properly. I wandered along and sat on an outcrop overlooking Boscastle harbour for something to eat, a sociable blonde boy sat next to me waiting for his parents to come along and shared his experiences of the day.
After half an hour's rest I crossed the bridge over the outlet and walked along the quayside, past crabbing pots and small fishing boats and up the busy cliff past Willapark. This whole stretch to Tintagel is new path to me. It was considerably easier going than the first section but I was pleasantly surprised by a couple of particularly steep drops and climbs, the most memorable being the incredibly appropriately-named Rocky Valley which was, in a word, stunning. I'd like to come back at high tide to see the waves crashing along the rocks. After a brief stop, a steep climb past the headland at Bossiney and along the steady walking past Barras Nose. Finally, down to the beach at Tintagel Haven, heaving with visitors but with plenty of space on the beach to throw my Crackington stone into the sea and collect another one for my pot. I raced up the steep climb back into Tintagel town and up to treat myself to a diet cherry coke before heading home.
12.4 miles across some of the most incredible, hilly landscape I've witnessed. It could have been less windy, I was only slightly disappointed with the stretch between Boscastle and Tintagel, and a spot of sunshine would have been welcome, but otherwise it was the perfect walk. Having the sea to one side for the whole journey is beautiful and I'll try the walk in the opposite direction next time I visit to experience the climbs and descents in reverse. This is definitely my favourite walk and it'll probably be a long time before that changes. I hope to travel around the country a little more in the future and get some new walking under my belt. Watch this space!
A quick note: having plotted this route in software the total ascent for this walk was 1248m, 160m more than Snowdon! That's utterly brilliant!
New flowers and insects found: Common toadflax, white and red campion, wild basil, and a Sexton beetle pretending to be a bee.
15 August 2010
09 August 2010
Coombe Hill, Ridgeway circular, 8.6 miles
Another brilliantly hilly walk, the first with my folks in two and a half months. It was wonderfully pleasant to get in the car and be greeted with whoops and compliments about how much weight I've lost. Thanks guys!
The walk had plenty of lovely wood mixed with tall hills, deep valleys and big views. It ended with a climb up to the monument on Coombe Hill which was overrun with picnickers and opportunist visitors who park two hundred metres away and walk to the end, eager to enjoy the huge view. I don't mind saying it, but I feel I certainly earned my great big uplifting view: lugging my over-packed rucksack across eight hilly miles to get to this point makes it mean much more to me than simply parking up and getting it for free.
I packed my bag with three kilos of stuff - tins, a kilo of raisins, stuff. As I'm in training I wanted to push myself; I didn't really notice the weight on my back, but as soon as I took it off it felt quite heavy in my hands. That weight was probably three or four kilos less than I'll be taking to the coast with me, so I will add more weight over my next few walks. The pack itself was comfortable, with its shoulder-straps nicely placed, chest- and waist-straps taking the pressure of the back. The weight was packed too low - something I'll need to experiment with. I also need a bum-bag type job to keep my regular-access stuff in, and a strap of some kind for my map case. Lots to get!
Also: 26 miles this week. Getting there.
The walk had plenty of lovely wood mixed with tall hills, deep valleys and big views. It ended with a climb up to the monument on Coombe Hill which was overrun with picnickers and opportunist visitors who park two hundred metres away and walk to the end, eager to enjoy the huge view. I don't mind saying it, but I feel I certainly earned my great big uplifting view: lugging my over-packed rucksack across eight hilly miles to get to this point makes it mean much more to me than simply parking up and getting it for free.
I packed my bag with three kilos of stuff - tins, a kilo of raisins, stuff. As I'm in training I wanted to push myself; I didn't really notice the weight on my back, but as soon as I took it off it felt quite heavy in my hands. That weight was probably three or four kilos less than I'll be taking to the coast with me, so I will add more weight over my next few walks. The pack itself was comfortable, with its shoulder-straps nicely placed, chest- and waist-straps taking the pressure of the back. The weight was packed too low - something I'll need to experiment with. I also need a bum-bag type job to keep my regular-access stuff in, and a strap of some kind for my map case. Lots to get!
Also: 26 miles this week. Getting there.
05 August 2010
North Marston, Quainton, East Claydon, Verney Junction, Addington, Adstock, Coombes, Thornborough Bridge, Bourton, Buckingham linear, 14.7 miles
I caught the bus out to North Marston and, after it navigated its way past a stray shih-tzu puppy, I disembarked and started out along the Quainton Road, off St John's Lane and out into open countryside.
I had another "Why was there any doubt?" moment as I got my pace on. I put off walks for unfathomable reasons but as soon as I get out there it's no chore, but an exciting privilege. I'm enjoying the countryside and doing myself good in the process. Please, no more sofa-surfing and more walking!
The path across six fields and a road leads into an enormous field that holds half of Woad Hill. I climbed at a steady rate, remembering that I'm essentially in training for five consecutive twenty-mile days and I must remember to pace myself. There's a natural route up the hill, which certainly left me panting as I reached the top and took in the cracking view. Over the crest, approaching The Best Tree in the World and a large fox bounced out of the long grass and bounded toward the hedge, the white tip of his tail tracing his path.
Down and up and down past Denham into Quainton. I do love this village. I got some good photos of bees enjoying the lavendar but couldn't bring myself to take shots of a hundred wasps burrowing into windfall fruit. Next time I will. Through the village and turning to head north toward home, I climbed Simber Hill without tiring myself and with my legs only gently strained. I continued along the ridge toward the radio mast, right then left over locked gates and along the hedge on a precarious cow path, with a view of strip fields and possible terracing on the side of the slope. Down Conduit Hill - there are a few routes down and I appear to have chosen the easiest and most boring way to do it. Across open fields again spotting three hares by the hedge, who sauntered away as I approached and hit the turbo as I got closer. I'm always astounded how fast hares can run. Two or three crop fields, then horses, a bit of track then left onto a couple of hundred metres of tarmac.
I've often rued road-walking as being wearing and tedious, but today I found a renewed appreciation of flat, solid ground. The going across fields wasn't slightly difficult, but the majority of the five miles already covered was irregular, so to find even ground gave me a chance to work up a good pace and rhythm.
Right onto a path new to me, a partly unmemorable stretch until reaching the hill. A good short climb to a track, tempted to take in a rare view of East Claydon Electricity Grid Sub-Station but without my binoculars it wouldn't have been much of a view, although the view back to Conduit more than made up for it. Past the church and into East Claydon for a brief visit before getting back onto known route. Across, down and into a field where muck-spreaders were loading their steamy payload and flicking it evenly over the rape stalks. Left onto the road through Verney Junction, past the pub and right, over the old railway taking care to slip right through the kissing gate and onto the footpath for a stop to rest. Eight and a quarter miles before stopping. Fantastic.
Recharged with an exotic sandwich and some chicken I continued across harvested fields, pleased to be walking over crunchy wheat stalks instead of wading through chest-high grass. Over Claydon Brook and skirting Addington before trekking across fields to cross the main road and head toward Adstock.
This next field has a name, in my head: "Friendly-Sheep Field". Thrice before I'd traversed this field and twice I'd been fortunate enough to fuss some of the friendliest sheep and lambs I've met. Today, only the mother sheep was interactive, her adolescent offspring less willing to approach now they were almost fully-grown. She snuffled my hand, nuzzled my leg and went all misty-eyed when I scratched her neck, head, ears and the side of her dark nose.
Off again to and through Adstock village. I've walked from here a number of times but never past the beautiful pub. There followed an unremarkable one and a quarter miles road-walking to the reserve at Coombes, where I took a standing break and made a happy stick figure near a bench - literally, out of sticks. Down past the pond, at the lowest level I've ever seen, over and down the hill to the road and along the brook. I took a sunset shot here, just after the sun'd gone down. Across Thornborough Bridge, past White House, Manor and Home Farms, along the path that follows the ring road and home.
On that final stretch, one final nature display. Three bats put on an incredible air show in the dusky night sky, literally right in front of my face. This was the icing on the cake of a lovely, long walk.
For the record, I massaged my feet and legs when I got in, moisturised my feet and slept well. I hardly ached the next day and apart from a couple of blisters in a new place on my little and next toes on my right foot, suffered no ill effects whatsoever. This is great progress in my preparation for a great big walk next month. Also, I've tagged 2.5 miles in this post for a quick walk out I did locally yesterday evening.
I had another "Why was there any doubt?" moment as I got my pace on. I put off walks for unfathomable reasons but as soon as I get out there it's no chore, but an exciting privilege. I'm enjoying the countryside and doing myself good in the process. Please, no more sofa-surfing and more walking!
The path across six fields and a road leads into an enormous field that holds half of Woad Hill. I climbed at a steady rate, remembering that I'm essentially in training for five consecutive twenty-mile days and I must remember to pace myself. There's a natural route up the hill, which certainly left me panting as I reached the top and took in the cracking view. Over the crest, approaching The Best Tree in the World and a large fox bounced out of the long grass and bounded toward the hedge, the white tip of his tail tracing his path.
Down and up and down past Denham into Quainton. I do love this village. I got some good photos of bees enjoying the lavendar but couldn't bring myself to take shots of a hundred wasps burrowing into windfall fruit. Next time I will. Through the village and turning to head north toward home, I climbed Simber Hill without tiring myself and with my legs only gently strained. I continued along the ridge toward the radio mast, right then left over locked gates and along the hedge on a precarious cow path, with a view of strip fields and possible terracing on the side of the slope. Down Conduit Hill - there are a few routes down and I appear to have chosen the easiest and most boring way to do it. Across open fields again spotting three hares by the hedge, who sauntered away as I approached and hit the turbo as I got closer. I'm always astounded how fast hares can run. Two or three crop fields, then horses, a bit of track then left onto a couple of hundred metres of tarmac.
I've often rued road-walking as being wearing and tedious, but today I found a renewed appreciation of flat, solid ground. The going across fields wasn't slightly difficult, but the majority of the five miles already covered was irregular, so to find even ground gave me a chance to work up a good pace and rhythm.
Right onto a path new to me, a partly unmemorable stretch until reaching the hill. A good short climb to a track, tempted to take in a rare view of East Claydon Electricity Grid Sub-Station but without my binoculars it wouldn't have been much of a view, although the view back to Conduit more than made up for it. Past the church and into East Claydon for a brief visit before getting back onto known route. Across, down and into a field where muck-spreaders were loading their steamy payload and flicking it evenly over the rape stalks. Left onto the road through Verney Junction, past the pub and right, over the old railway taking care to slip right through the kissing gate and onto the footpath for a stop to rest. Eight and a quarter miles before stopping. Fantastic.
Recharged with an exotic sandwich and some chicken I continued across harvested fields, pleased to be walking over crunchy wheat stalks instead of wading through chest-high grass. Over Claydon Brook and skirting Addington before trekking across fields to cross the main road and head toward Adstock.
This next field has a name, in my head: "Friendly-Sheep Field". Thrice before I'd traversed this field and twice I'd been fortunate enough to fuss some of the friendliest sheep and lambs I've met. Today, only the mother sheep was interactive, her adolescent offspring less willing to approach now they were almost fully-grown. She snuffled my hand, nuzzled my leg and went all misty-eyed when I scratched her neck, head, ears and the side of her dark nose.
Off again to and through Adstock village. I've walked from here a number of times but never past the beautiful pub. There followed an unremarkable one and a quarter miles road-walking to the reserve at Coombes, where I took a standing break and made a happy stick figure near a bench - literally, out of sticks. Down past the pond, at the lowest level I've ever seen, over and down the hill to the road and along the brook. I took a sunset shot here, just after the sun'd gone down. Across Thornborough Bridge, past White House, Manor and Home Farms, along the path that follows the ring road and home.
On that final stretch, one final nature display. Three bats put on an incredible air show in the dusky night sky, literally right in front of my face. This was the icing on the cake of a lovely, long walk.
For the record, I massaged my feet and legs when I got in, moisturised my feet and slept well. I hardly ached the next day and apart from a couple of blisters in a new place on my little and next toes on my right foot, suffered no ill effects whatsoever. This is great progress in my preparation for a great big walk next month. Also, I've tagged 2.5 miles in this post for a quick walk out I did locally yesterday evening.
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