Sunday 01st June 1997 - Day two, Westward Ho!, Bucks Mills, Clovelly Prev Next

I regained consciousness at 06:40 and started to sort out some breakfast, pasta in chicken and mushroom sauce. I have a small trangia stove which runs off methylated spirits to cook on and a single saucepan. I only bring the bare minimum essentials to save weight but it works well. I caught the 06:55 weather, cloudier and cooler later on - that's what I need. It was time then to check out the showers. The electric meter should have been in a museum, the dial said 50p, a sticker said 10p but I think one florin would have been more appropriate. No-one else was up so I had a quick strip wash in the 'washroom' or shed. It was a very clear sunny morning although the wind had picked up overnight and was a bit gusty. I'm glad I didn't have a big tent to pack away because my little two man one was lively enough. I went and found the farmhouse and settled up, £3 for the night.

I secured the tent firmly this time after it fell out yesterday, I didn't want it falling out again and bouncing over a cliff. An inspection of the map showed a slight detour back before Westward Ho! and then picking up the coastal path. There was no way I could miss Westward Ho!, the only town with the exclamation mark as part of its name. Some day I must read the book.

With this new found pain in my left hip at the front and a matching but less intense one in my bum I had developed a sort of rolling gait, anyone would think I'd been to sea. At the top of the hill there were some luxury new developments with sea view, which looked exactly the same as you would find in an ordinary housing estate anywhere in the south of England but without the sea. Along the same road was the descent into Westward Ho!, a steep hill which presented me with two choices, one road with lines and the other without. I chose to take the first with lines. I put one foot forward and a white Peugeot 205 came around the corner almost on two wheels, self preservation got the better of me and I took the other.

Soon the row of multicoloured beach huts as described in '500 mile walkies' came into view and as soon as they were gone it was back onto the coastal path for real. There were lots of people walking the path as it started out of Westward Ho! on an even made up track. Eventually it went over a stile and became a worn track in the grass. Looking out over the bay I could see a distant land tip with a lighthouse and a white blob, could that be Hartland Point, and if so then a little bit this way would be Clovelly, a good place to aim for. If there were a strip of tarmac across the bay I could probably do it in twenty minutes on a bike, was it really going to take me all day?

It started to get lumpy and the strata could be clearly seen in the rocky outcrops. The view was magnificent - this is what I came to see. There were only one or two people now as the hills became steeper. It was getting towards break time so I would climb to the next one and then find a sheltered spot for a rest. At regular intervals and anywhere that there may be confusion the path is marked by posts with an acorn and a yellow arrow which makes it easy to follow. Just occasionally the path went through clumps of bushes which gave brief respite from the sun which was reaching full strength. As I looked down I could see the beach made of pebbles, only these pebbles were 6" - 12" in diameter with bits of flotsam washed up. I wanted to do what Mark Wallington had done and beach combed trying to find some Venezuelan shampoo or something.

I came across a stile, put the rucksack over it then grabbed the water, snickers and chewy bar. Five minutes later and halfway down the chewy bar, pondering what the grid reference of the nearest supermarket was a voice behind me said 'Hello'. 'Hello' I said. 'You don't expect to see people on this bit of the path do you' said a woman, 'No' I said, 'only' she continued 'we've got dogs and we need to put them through the trap'. 'Oh' I said. I staggered up to see the woman lift the bit I had been leaning on to reveal a hole big enough to get two wet golden retrievers through. She climbed over the stile followed by her husband.

Further down the coast I came across a young couple who asked how far it was to Westward Ho! I had been going for a couple of hours but it wouldn't take them that long. The path descended onto the beach for a few yards and here was my chance to find some foreign flotsam. I found a tube of BP lubricating grease, and another, and another. Then something foreign, Grease de lubrication and then a bread basket. Getting off the beach were some very steep steps. Left foot, right foot...right foot...right foot. I looked down, the second step was missing. It is a good job I wasn't going the other way or I might have ended up flat on my face. That was a steep climb and my right knee started to protest. I passed a couple of more serious women walkers going the other way, 'Morning', 'Morning'.

Shortly after the path went into woodland which stayed as woodland for a long way. This was a blessed relief from the sun. I stopped for a rest at a high point and sat still in the wood near the cliff edge looking out onto miles of gently rippling sea from a great height. A little further on I came across a holiday house then another house which had one part breaking away and there was Bucks Mills. The eating house had some good things including Yorkshire pudding with sausages in gravy. It went down very well but there was so much gravy that I had to supplement a bit of my own bread which I sneaked out of my rucksack. There were lots of things on the menu but 'service with a smile' wasn't one of them.

The climb out of Bucks Mills was long and steep until I arrived at the first field. The path then was a mixture of field edges and woodland. I passed through a rhododendron tunnel and past the remains of a very old car which had proably been there for half a century, just dumped in the middle of nowhere. Another field, woodland and bridge then I was on Hobby drive. This loose road meandered in and out to keep more or less even height for a long way. It was still very windy, the wind was stronger than in the morning and on Hobby Drive twigs and some branches had broken off trees. At one point I disturbed a pheasant which did 0 - 60 in about three seconds, I was a bit concerned for when it decided to land.

I am grateful for the rest provided by the Hamlyns who built a stone bench 'in the year of our Lord God 1901' to commemorate the last 883 yards of Hobby drive. I knew Clovelly was near so I stopped for a drink. A little further on I came across a footpath with a post saying Clovelly 1/4m, and followed it into the back door of Clovelly. I found the main street and checked out for a B&B. The options were New Inn and a house lower down the street. I tidied my hair and rang the door bell of the house. A woman answered the door and I enquired about a room. She didn't have any singles and had I tried New Inn. No, what if I had a double. Well...she'd have to charge for two and had I tried New Inn. How much would the double be, £30. I took the hint and tried New Inn. It was £25 with sharing bathroom in the guest house which was over the road from the main hotel building.

I sat on a step at the top of Clovelly hill and considered the options. I couldn't face walking to Upper Clovelly where there was a campsite. I had the single with sharing bathroom in New Inn, which turned out to be a double not sharing bathroom because there wasn't anyone else staying in the guest house part. Luxury. A long hot soak, gammon steak & a five minute lie down on the bed. Two hours later I regained consciousness, put on my night clothes and didn't surface until 6 O'clock.

Next page, Day three, 02nd June 97, Clovelly, Hartland Point, Devon/Cornwall border, Leddon Farm.

Previous page, Day one, 31st May 97, Newbury, Exeter, Barnstaple, Nr. Westward Ho!.

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