Day 8 Clovelly to Hartland Quay ( 10.5 miles / 17km)

 Day 8    Clovelly to Hartland Quay ( 10.5 miles / 17km)

This day and tomorrow are described as the two most wild, rugged and spectacular of The South West Coast Path.   Tomorrows walk to Bude, while not my longest day at 25km, is said to be the toughest with 10 large back to back ascents and descents coming fast one after another.    The first section today was a shorter preview of what tomorrow will be.  Henry Stedman even gets poetic when describing these  final stages in Devon before crossing into Cornwall…”wild seas crash against rocks carved by time and tide and into alcoves and archways.  It’s a land of rock and reef, storm and shipwreck, lonely, baleful shorelines..”   This really does sum it up.  I’m going to add wind , windy , windy wind!!! 

I was thankful for the shorter distance of 17km today as a little relief after the length of yesterday.    I was also happy to be getting in at an earlier time to have a bit more of a relaxing pub meal instead of the Amazing Race dinner situation of last night.   

But first fuel to prepare for this tea – less stretch.    Becky’s breakie was a farmhouse picture!    The best type of accomodation on this walk is the Bed and Breakfast.   The villages generally don’t open up for breakfast or usually have anywhere to buy sandwiches and supplies until well after the time walkers want to head off.    The bed and breakfast breakfast is ideal and takes the pressure off trying to find somewhere.   On many of these sections there is no where along the way to get any food or supplies.    The Bed and Breakast all offer a packed lunch option and when they hand over the little bag so starts the packed lunch anticipation that builds all morning and the lovely ability to stop wherever you desire to rip it open.   

I saw three other couples on the trail today as walkers all seemed to leave Clovelly at the same time.  It is good job other people were on the trial today with what was to come. 

Today started so sedately leaving Clovelly through sheltered woodlands.   Passing Mouthmill Beach a favourite spot for smugglers and then onto a long stretch of meadow and field walking towards Hartland Point where the Bristol Channel ends and the open Atlantic begins.    Treacherous jagged reefs lie below and it is of no surprise so many ships went down here.

But then came the turning point of the day, rounding Hartland Point the trail turns sharply south and now its walking directly into the force of Atlantic winds.   The cliffs start to tower above rocky beaches and I ‘m thinking  if you are prepared to be doing smuggling here you are well and truly welcome to your smuggled goods.   

Suddenly I became aware I was walking differently, the wind had picked up so quickly.   My walking poles were helping me keep upright as the wind came in and battered me sideways.   I was walking like I was on the moon as with each step I tried to keep as much surface area of boot to the ground.   My hat blew off and had to go in the pack ,  my hair was just flying everywhere – 3 bobby pins broke loose flying over the cliff somewhere and it was just untamed from that point on.    As the path headed closer to the cliff I looked up to see a couple heading up over the cliff edge ridge that was just rock and scree cuttting a path up and over – they were not upright but crawling on hands and feet going up.    I thought surely thats not the path ?!  It was the path. 

In this vast rocky landscape that felt like middle earth there didn’t seem to be another option.   As I start to head up the wind is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.  I could not move forward with it – my poles digging in to keep me standing but that felt too unsteady so I had to drop against the rock .  I look up to see another couple further also pressed flat against the rock unable to stand or move.   

At this point a man appears at the top and starts to yell but I can’t tell what he is saying – the wind is so loud and the noise is deafening.     The message works its way down with the couple above me yelling “GO BACK!”     So I crab crawl back down and to the side hoping for some shelter and the chance to stand up and move .   I get down but can not see another option to get over just grass covered steep cliff with no path or trail.   The man at the top shouting again but as my Dad would say “I’m getting nothing”.  I could not make out a word he was saying – the crouching couple ahead of me headed  down towards me crawling and shout the translation that the only way is up this cliff that we were perched on – it was fairly vertical with no foot or hand holds or trail and it was still impossile to stand but the man in the couple said “GO!”  so we just moved , I was wanting desperatly to get off so I got up as best I could to my feet and didn’t look down.   I didn’t want to look up either to be fair  so I pulled myself up moving as fast as I could  just hoping the top was getting closer bracing my poles into the side and feeling an overwhelming surge of love for them.   I got to the top heart racing and sat in a rock nook for a minute to swear continually for a full minute.  

We moved on as fast as we could to get back to the path that headed away from the cliff edge and to start the final dip and climb into Hartland Quay.   The only thing in Hartland Quay is remote the hotel/pub converted from what were once stables and customs houses  destroyed in a major storm in the 1800’s.  I can believe it – it is just sat there exposed with nothing else around it.   Spooky as all hell to be fair.   Everyone just literally blew into the bar.  White faced and thanking the man who had come to shout us off the ridge .    Whisky shots were ordered but I had to bid farewell as The Anchor Inn up in Hartland village were doing a 5pm pick up for people staying there.   

I got in , arranged a table for an early dinner and went to find a brush.   It was past a brush ,  beyond repair I did what I could , quick change and headed back down – the bar lady telling me that tonight was Sea Shanty night and my room over the bar would get loud.  I said that is no problem at all – I love a good Sea Shanty.  Next thing as my dinner arrives so do all the locals , piling in and the lead Sea Shantier hands out songbooks to us all and up they start !   It was fabulous.   They knew every word and the men and women took it turns to be lead while the room sang the chorus and did the HEY! and the HO!  and the foot tapping and table slapping.   I joined in as I had a song book to follow and quickly tried to get my timing right because ,as I have just learnt , timing is everything in a shanty.  

I had to leave them all to it so I could get to bed and be up ready for part 2 tomorrow.  Rain forecast for climbs and valleys but less cliff exposure tomorrow – should be a test for the knees but not the heart!    

I’m off to sleep while the whole bar below is singing Blow The Man Down. Seems uncanningly fitting for today.   That can be Song of The Day!

Becky’s Breakie

Handy

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And its Blow The Man Down to finish!!