Day 4 Combe Martin to Woolacombe (12.5 miles / 20km

 Day 4   Combe Martin to Woolacombe (12.5 miles / 20km 

Waking up in the seaside room of my Guest House was lovely after a deep fresh air fueled sleep.     I got packed up ready to move on and had my breakfast prepared by Michelle who sure can poach an egg.     Michelle hurries out the kitchen as I was leaving to hand me my packed lunch for the day.   A fresh baguette filled with ham , salad and chutney!! I carefully placed it in my pack swaddled as I would a new born Kate , – just in a moisture wicking, light weight base layer.    An excellent accomodation and welcoming hostess.  

I started with a quick look around Combe Martin as I had hurriedly bypassed it yesterday on my 6pm arrival and in my haste to get to Michelle.

Combe Martin was a cute seaside town with cafes and shops –  alot with the word Tide in the tital…Tides In, Tides Out, High Tide .   Song of the day chosen early,   Blondie  – The Tide is High but I’m Movin On was the only thing breaking the quiet as I headed up and off on this big day towards Woolacombe and the surf beaches of Devon.     

The first half of of the day was moderate on the difficulty scale with  beautiful path changes from wood to open path winding along the cliffs of Watermouth Bay up towards Hele and then navigating  the very steep slopes of Hillsborough before descending into Ilfercrombe.    As I approached I heard a teacher  on a mega phone sounding like an English version of Mr Richards directing a group of school children on camp -“sun lotion on,  sit still and keep your hands to yourself ” somethings are just universal.       Ilfercrombe is a big and bustling town that caters to visitors , especially young families on holiday .   It was a quick visit only and I was happy when the trail seemed to predict how a walker might feel when briefly met with bouncy castles and mini golf arcades.   

The trail zig zags up the Torrs referred to also as the Seven Hills cut directly into the steep cliff face.  It was time for Michelle’s baguette knowing the second half of this day would need fuel – the rugged cliff half that would come just as the sun was getting hotter with each hour.    I found a quiet bench with a spectacular view that held a plaque in loving memory of  a man called Jack Dale 1919-1999.   I thanked Jack for sharing his spot with me .   Jack was obviously a man of good judgement , the quiet secluded nook, the view and the baguette were all excellent.   

I headed on and came to the beautiful Lee Bay – I took the little bridleppath off the route unable to resist having a look at the famed little hamlet – I’m so glad I did .  Nearly bought a house with a thatched roof that was for sale then had to talk myself out of it and get back on track.   

As I was walking and concentrating intently on how I would decorate the house with the thatched roof I missed a trail waymaker hidden in an overgrown tree for a sharp right and instead walked up a very steep lane for a good while before checking my map and realising I was going to dairy farm instead .   Back I went cursing my lapse in concentration due to wallpaper selections,  bathroom tiles and Laura Ashely bedding for a house that wasn’t mine.  

I zoomed back down giving myself a good talking to and headed up the right path into the area called Damage Cliffs only to be met by a herd of very large cows blocking the path and not budging as I approached.    Cows glare and glare they did .   In a game of Who Blinks First a cow is winning hands down every single time – unbeaten champion of the farmyard.    I just happen to remember from walking the Coast to Coast through many a cow field that cows can be killers.    I’m cautious and for right reason .In the past two decades 54 seperate attacks on members of the public out walking have occured and 24% of those fatal.    I think they just squash you to death against a fence .   I decided that as I am small and the cows were looking down on me it would be a good idea to get dominance in this situation by putting my wallking pole up high to give the appearance of height.    In a commanding voice I told them ‘Move on now, don’t let me tell you twice.’     And it worked .  Lead glarer turned off the path and his mates followed.   This held me up a good 15 minutes and so I needed to shift a bit to get to the final challenge of the day – the legendary Morte Point.  

Rounding the trail past Bull Point and its lighthouse lies the stretch that is Morte Point- a far as the eye can see stretch of ascents and descents -a dozen of them in under 11km.   The path so incredibly close to cliff edge it is rugged in every sense.   Henry’s map book asserts this by quoting the local who once famously described it as “a place God made last and the devil will take first.”     Waves crash hard against the jagged slate rock faces that run directly out to the sea making this the shipwreck coastline – 47 ships went to their graves here in the 19th century so Morte Point meaning ‘Death Point’ seems a fitting name choice.    It was breath taking walking in every sense .   Looking ahead was spectacular but looking back to see where I’d walked was just as thrilling.   

Finally rounding the point and legs feeling the final kilometers of the 25 just done I was gasping for a cup of tea.   The landscape transforms instantly replaced instead by the wonderfully welcoming view of Woolacombe – white houses sat high and glistening in the sun in front of a wide and sandy beach filled with surfers.   I got a burst of final energy to get there – knowing what was awaiting me. 

When booking this walk I had found this area hard to secure a place that didn’t want a 3 night mininum.   I found a bed and breakfast in Braunton my next stop and when I went to book, the lovely owner Sophie, contacted me to say if I was having trouble finding somewhere in Woolacombe she would come and pick me from the trail and take me back the next morning staying 2 nights with her.    Brilliant!   And so it was Sohpie who I called at the end of the day and she delightfully said  “Sit right where you are I’ll be there in 15 minutes darling “.   Oh I could of cried at the sound of her lovely voice – I was hot , sweaty and not realising how in need of a darling I was until I got one.   She whisked me back  had the kettle boiling and had cooked me the most delicious dinner so I didn’t need to go out again to find something.   An amazing cook she used everthing from her garden to prepare the best meal so far on this trip.    She has put my washing on and I go to sleep already thinking about her breakast in the morning.   

In this gorgeous cottage after this gorgeous day I am falling asleep smiling.   

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