Saturday 13th September 1997 - Day One, Newbury - Exeter - Bude - Crackington Haven Next

This was it, after weeks of waiting I was going back to Cornwall to finish off what I started earlier in the year. I dozed on the train going out to Exeter, probably as a result of getting up at 5am, still, these thing have to be done. The journey to Exeter went very quickly, mainly because of my semi-concious state. Pewsey, Castle Cary, Taunton. What I had forgotten about was the two long tunnels that did things to your eardrums. At Exeter the train arrived at one of the centre platforms and I walked up and over the footbridge, past the pseudo Michael Angelo murals. These are of contemporary railway station scenes in a Cistine Chapel style and really quite clever. After obtaining a current Newquay timetable I went out to find the stop for the X9 bus to take me to Bude. The 11:10 had become the 11:30 on the new timetable. It still arrived late. The Exeter Saturday traffic was very busy and the coach moved slowly between numerous traffic lights.

Once we got clear however the open road held no reservations for our driver. He didn't look like Daemon Hill or even related, but he had a certain penchant for speed. We met two X9 buses coming the other way. The first just outside Exeter was at a narrow bit of road in a twisty village. The drivers wound down their windows. 'You busted?' said ours. 'Yeah, had to leave a couple at Oakhampton' said the other. 'Mmm' said ours, 'Daniel's going to have to look at this rota, it's not working'. Busted, that must be a drivers term for full up, and clearly trying to catch the Exeter service from Oakhampton or nearer on a Saturday is a no-no. We stopped at a village about halfway where the bus turned off the main road and did a two point turn for the stop. A bloke with his hair shaved off except for a patch on the top made into dreadlocks and beads got off.

We met the second coach closer to Bude on a straight stretch of open road. We were hurtling one way, the other was hurtling towards us, and in the middle was a house, one of those houses where the front of the house stops and the road starts. Down the side of this house a white metro was pulling into the road, he couldn't see the other coach because of the house. Luckily we all stopped in time and the metro made a tactical withdrawal in order to preserve its shape.

We arrived at The Strand in Bude without further incident. By the time I got off the bus the driver had already unloaded my rucksack and leant it against a nearby bench. I had arrived in only four and a half hours since starting. I visited the toilets then started up where I had left off. Up the hill was Compass Point, a curious two storey tower with eight sides marked south, south west, west etc. I sat on a bench opposite and had my remaining cheese sandwiches, then duly refreshed I was off.

The path followed the undulating hills. These were much more agricultural than those the other side of Bude and altogether tamer. It wasn't long before the path descended past some peoples back gardens and into Widemouth bay. Surf was definitely up although not up to much by Hawaiian standards, nevertheless there were about 40 surfers having a go with various degrees of competence.

Just after the bay the path joins the road, the road is so close to the edge that there isn't any room for the path so they have to share. At the top of the climb out of Widemouth bay is a car park giving excellent views up the coast. I said goodbye to Bude and hoped I wasn't going to see it again, at least not for a few years. One day I intend to do the whole path in one go.

Not quite as far as the car park I walked past the last campsite marked on the map for some distance. I had only been walking for two hours and wasn't ready to stop even with the temptation of good facilities. The path left the road, went over a headland, down a hundred or so steps, and joined the road again. The road twisted and wound upwards, marked on the map by double chevrons, then around a corner the path resumed in its own right. At the stile two couples in Barbour coats and flat caps were talking. We exchanged comments and I trouped on with the wind blowing in from the sea. Half a mile further on I dropped down behind the hedge for a break consisting of a drink and a pasty. Odd really buying a pasty in Newbury then bringing it all the way to Cornwall to eat. I was just packing up when one of the Barbour couples rounded the bend and overtook me. 'Broken down?' he said, 'No, just resting' I said. I followed about two hundred yards behind. They crossed a stile and sat on a bench. As I crossed the stile I found a pair of woman's reading glasses. Up ahead the woman was rifling through her pockets. Putting two and two together I picked up the glasses and as I met up with them again said 'Have you lost some glasses'. 'Er, yes, Oh I was just looking for them' she said as I handed them over. It was my good deed for the day.

A few yards further on the path was marked with a black circle inland, or acorn for coastal path straight on. I went straight on but couldn't see how the path went up the far hillside. Halfway across the field I got cold feet feeling a bit lost and went in the direction the black circle indicated, then I spotted a the familiar acorn and yellow arrow sign by a gap into a wood. The path went down a steep incline in the wood, across a bridge and stile, and up through the wood the other side. I love these places where the path goes through woods, they are enchanting.

It didn't last too long though and it was back up on field edges again. Around a couple of headlands, down and up a couple of steep coombes and I came upon Crackington Haven nestling in the valley. The top of the hill gave me a good view but there wasn't a campsite anywhere. I walked through and found where the coastal path resumed, then round to the pub mentioned in '500 mile walkies'. I craved something fizzy and got a pint of lager shandy and my water bottle refilled. I felt a twinge of elation as I spotted the surf board noted by Mark Wallington was still there, hanging from the ceiling. I pressed on before I did something silly like order another pint.

Up the other side the landscape became a bit wilder and there was a detour around a particularly worn hill. Keep off as it is being re-seeded a National Trust notice said although that didn't stop someone from sitting on the top waiting for the sun to set. All the time I was looking for somewhere to camp as the sun sank lower. Further on I rounded a headland and at the top was an area of bushes, cowpats, thistles and long grass. The sun touched the sea, it was going to have to be here.

I walked around, no cows, no people. I put the tent up, then everything including me inside. This was going to be the first time I had spent a night out in the open. It was a clear evening although it got dark quickly once the tent was up. I could see Hartland Point lighthouse and Lundy Isle lighthouse in one direction, and Trevose Head in the other, the nearest was about twenty miles away. I set myself up in the tent, crawled into my sleeping bag and turned out the light. As I dozed off I suddenly had one of those horrible thoughts you don't want to have just before going to sleep. Would there be a thunderstorm? There I was on top of the highest point for a long way around in a tent with metal poles pointing up, this could be a bad move. If a thunderstorm came I would grab cagoule and waterproof trousers and run down the hill. I prayed there wouldn't be any thunderstorms.

Next page, Day two, 14th September 97, Crackington Haven - Tintagel.

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