Wednesday 10th June 1998 - Day Five, Harlyn Bay - Newquay Prev Next

I had set my alarm for 06:00 as I wanted to make a good start, in the end I woke at 05:30 and started breakfast. By 06:40 I was ready to go but there was a wicked cumulonimbus either side and one large black cloud downwind with a rainbow. I retreated to the launderette and waited while the shower went over, in the end it wasn't much and just after 07:00 I left.

I followed a bit of the path that I had ended up on two days ago, and was already equipped with gaiters for where the grass hung down. I still got wet feet though. A little further on a couple of large horses were lying down in their field as I walked along the edge, and their ears followed me as I walked past and towards Trevose Head.

Trevose Head is high at the end and as I rounded it next to the lighthouse that people seem to like photographing and painting, I got my first view of Newquay, my eventual destination. The weather was excellent although there were some big clouds on the sky and a good wind off the sea. Just down from the lighthouse was another of those round holes in the ground which is also marked on the map, and I could hear the sea crashing about in this one. I got as near to the edge as I dared but I couldn't see the bottom. The sides were sheer and looking at the map contours it must have been about 150 feet deep. The path was easy walking down to the bays. Here the waves burst on some of the rocks and there was foam filling some inlets. At Constantine Bay the path dropped onto sand once more and I went to the shoreline left by the retreating waves to make walking easier.

In the next bay, Treyarnon, I spotted a shop by the beach which did groceries. I stocked up on pie, sausage rolls and Strathmore sparkling water with a twist of lemon. The guy in the shop fancied himself as a bit of a wag and told a different joke to everyone who came in. I got 'how does an Irishman call his dog?' (He put his fingers in his mouth as if to whistle loudly and shouted 'Here boy').

Crossing the stream was difficult on half submerged stepping stones. I have been in Cornwall five days and finding pasties is not easy. I thought I would be living off the things but I have only had two. On the top again I met a very serious walker, big proper wrap over pack, aluminium walking stick and dog. He had just started walking for the day having been camped out just over the other side of the inlet. He was walking from Lands End to John O'Groats, taking this path up to Barnstaple or was it Watchet, then onto another and so on. He had done this path in one go before and taken a couple of months over it. He was retired although he couldn't have been much over fifty, so he had the time and the fitness to do it. A man after my own heart.

The path continued along the top between farmers fields and the sheer drop. Not near enough that one false move would be fatal but I had to make sure as always that if I wanted to look at the scenery then stop, if moving then watch the path. Dropping down to Porthcothan I opened a gate for an elderly couple because they couldn't see the latch, found the toilets then continued. At the rate I'm going I could write a guide book about toilets on the South West Coastal Path. If I hadn't gone to the toilets in the car park and walked back I would have missed the sign pointing off the road to rejoin the coastal path. That's the second time I have nearly missed the pick up from a road back onto the path.

Just out the back of Porthcothan someone had made their fence out of drift wood, and made a half decent job with just one or two holes where the wood wasn't quite long enough. There were also one or two stepped tunnels for the residents of the bungalows to go onto the beach. The place had some character. About two hundred yards from the road it started to rain so I returned to the little newsagents, then occupied myself sending jigsaw post cards whilst the shower passed over. Back on the path past the driftwood fence, a broken boat and the residents tunnels, the sun came out once more as I walked over the gentle headlands.

The going was easy because the ground rarely deviated far from the level. I crossed several different pieces of land at varying distances from the edge including one bit given to the National Trust by someone and celebrated by a small monument. I strode on with just a T-shirt in the pleasant warm breeze when a couple rounded a hedge about a hundred yards away. The bloke immediately took off his coat and quickly stowed it away, presumably so I didn't think he was too much of a wimp, and that he could manage with just a vest, shirt and thick woolly jumper.

Then I saw Bedruthan steps. I took off the rucksack to take a picture and nearly fell flat on my face. I do this every time I remove the rucksack because I am so used to carrying the weight that I unbalance when I first take it off. About two hundred yards further on I heard a helicopter. It was a yellow Sea King that I had seen a lot over the last few days. I presume it is patrolling up and down the coast. I quickly lined up for a picture of helicopter over Bedruthan steps. The helicopter came out rather small.

Bedruthan steps is one of those tourist honey pots you come across from time to time. There was a made path to a viewing platform, National Trust shop and lots of people. One bloke walking towards the steps was built like a boxer dog standing upright with a ring through his nose. He said 'Hello' very politely. I looked closely but I couldn't see the words 'do not mess' on his forehead, although I'm sure they were there somewhere. Round the shop and on, and the tourists faded out, they always do when you loose sight of the car park. A woman was out sketching what looked like an aerial farm but I'm sure it was something better. Her husband was about fifty yards further on and suddenly found a lump of rock incredibly interesting to look at as I approached.

Out to sea I could see some heavy weather and judging by the wind direction I thought it was heading straight for me. Mawgan Porth was in sight and I marched quickly. In Mawgan Porth I found a bus shelter and had lunch. A quarter of an hour later it rained although not as hard as I was expecting.

After a bit of dithering and a false start when it rained again I climbed the path out of Mawgan Porth. It was then that I saw a farmer gathering his sheep with a collie. I thought it was me frightening the sheep at first, and then I saw the dog. Up ahead I could see a walker going in the same direction as me but I wasn't catching him up. He looked as though he was doing the path judging by his rucksack. Approaching Watergate Hotel area the path detoured into a farmers field, marked by orange tape and fencing. The notice said 'Path Closed'. This wasn't quite true, it should have said 'Path non-existant' where the cliff had collapsed. You could see the path go on and then nothing. You just hope that it's never going to happen when you are on it. Inland was an airport with one or two old stationary aircraft. Ahead was a tumulus right next to the cliff edge. The path used to go to the sea side of it but an arrow diverted you the other side. This is because the old path was now on an overhang with a mega drop below.

From the top of the tumulus Newquay looked very close. My legs were a bit sore and tired but still had a couple of miles left in them. I decided that I would go on and find a campsite just short of Newquay and go home the next day. The weather had been kind most of the time and I didn't want to push my luck. I realised my nose was sunburned so I applied some cream quickly.

The path now dropped steadily down and in no time at all I was hit with not so much of a 'culture shock' as a 'culture slap in the face'. A row of guest houses cum hotels started with two looking like a Mexican ranch, white painted in the proper architecture, and red tile capped walls. It was a bit strong after walking so much beautiful wild countryside. A sign at the end announced 'Long bar PUB, open to the public'. Quickly I continued following the coastal path around the outskirts of Newquay. Two tents were pitched just off the side of a golf club, one looked remarkably like mine.

At the bottom was a beach, a small river, and a sign saying 'Porth'. There were two camp sites I knew of, one I could see which looked well organised, and another further inland. The nearby one said families and mixed couples only. It looked expensive and I wasn't sure whether they would have me. So I went off to find the other although by this time I was getting tired.

I found the other site which looked a bit of a rip off, but went into reception anyhow. At first I thought they hadn't finished building it, but then I realised the design was more like an airport lounge with registration off to one side and no seats. Two smartly dressed girls at the desk fell over themselves to ignore me and it was only when a third appeared that I was asked could I be helped. The price was £3-55 for the night, OK, but there was a £3-00 booking fee, ah. £6-55 for one night I felt was too much.

Back at the original site I was greeted warmly and only charged £6-25. I pitched my tent next to a fence in the alotted space 21. Pitching was difficult though because the site was turf on shale or something equally hard, probably brilliant drainage but I nearly broke my wrist putting the first peg in. There was a stiff breeze coming off the sea which made the tent flap a bit. I wrote my log then had dinner. Once again I had trouble staying awake, it had been a long walk.

Next page, Day Six, 11th June 98, Newquay - Plymouth - Exeter - (Home)

Previous page, Day Four, 9th June 98, Harlyn Bay (rest).

Return to home page, return to diary index or return to this walk index.