Sunday 06th June 1999 - Day two, Porlock - Lynton. Prev Next

I don't know why but my eyes always hurt after sleeping whilst camping. I thought it was the cold but I had my woolly hat pulled over my eyes all night. It was a quick two Anadin extra, then get dressed, put the tent away, and go. This trip I intended to 'eat out' more and use the tent for mostly sleeping. The idea was to get going quickly rather than messing around, get a couple of hours walking in and then have a good breakfast.

It was a bright morning with a lot of blue sky as I left at a quarter to six, the best time of day. The path continued its diversion through Porlock and whilst I stopped to check the time and my pack a solitary police car rumbled past in the quiet village.

Down the lanes I walked to Porlock Wier, stopping briefly to say hello to a cat coming out of a field. At Porlock Wier I was in a bit of a dilema on which way to go until I spotted a sign tucked away, then a post next to the Anchor Hotel showing that the path went next to it up a narrow alleyway, then out into fields of sheep bounded by an electric fence.The path briefly touched the toll road out of Porlock and then at the ornate toll gatehouse it departed left, climbing up and up though Culbone woods. I started to get hungry so stopped for a drink, snickers and bread. The sun came out properly and it was glorious.

The path continued to climb and climb then it levelled as I came upon Culbone Church, reputed to be the smallest active church in England. I took a photo then went inside. It had all the look and feel of a church only small, with little pews down each side, bell ropes at the back and a large stone plaque of the ten commandments. I made a donation, signed the visitors book although I wasn't the first that day. Then after picking up a leaflet, I rejoined the path. This part was another unmetalled road which went up and up and up. This must have been the big wooded hill I saw before the church. Near the summit the path straightened and the trees thinned. Looking across was a hill even taller. It's funny but it seems that no matter how high you climb, there is always another nearby hill that is bigger.

The path followed farm tracks for a long way winding around the hillsides before coming out into an open field. It was just after nine, and a good place to have a proper breakfast next to a sign indicating rights of way and permissive paths to Yenworthy Farm and Sugarloaf Hill. Barbecue beef noodles, macaroni and a slice of bread never tasted so good although I had to restart the meths burner. I think I had the holes in the base of my stove pointing the wrong way and the steady breeze blew it out. The view was clear and I could see what I think was Wales over the water, low at the coast and mountains behind.

The coast path on my old map went in the direction of Yenworth Farm, but there was an acorn sign on the path down to Sugarloaf Hill. Down the path went and into woods. I find it easier walking uphill than downhill. When I go down a steep hill my feet sink deep into the front of my boots and squash my toes hard, and the front of my legs pull. My legs were tired and pulling hard at this point, still feeling the effects of yesterday. By the bottom of the hill they were shaking as I crossed a stream.

Little tracks meandering through woodland are my favourite bits, particularly in hot weather. Here and there were more signs pointing the way on permissive paths which must be better than the original old track. I kept seeing references to 'County Gate', a gate I presume between Somerset and Devon. It must be very impressive judging by the number of signs I saw. Eventually the path joined a nature trail. At the top of a rise was a bench and a turning for the nature trail only to County Gate. I stopped at the bench for a rest, boots off, and to write up my log before continuing into the dark coniferous forest. I stopped at just after eleven o'clock and started again about an hour later. The path came to a made up road which wandered up and around stream heads, much like Hobby Drive at Clovelly.

Up a steep rise the coast path suddenly departed down some steps to the right - this was another case of keep your eyes open otherwise you might miss it. I could hear a thud, thud, thud like someone chopping wood. At the bottom of the steps the path bore right and up again where there was a large stone cross, and a path went downhill past the cross. As I started up the other side it became apparent that the thudding was coming from somewhere behind the cross. It warrented further investigation. Behind the cross was some stonework making a chamber which seemed to be a spring source, this ran down a stone channel then into a pipe. The pipe was making a ringing thud, a bit like the chopping knives in Tomb Raider III. At the end of the pipe about ten yards further down was a stone and wooden enclosure where louder thudding was coming from but I couldn't see why. It was obviously some sort of mechanical device but I can't imagine what it did.

Back on the path I took a photo towards Porlock and was passed by and odd looking young man wearing a middle eastern colourful type clothes. 'Morning' I said, 'Mmmm' he said. A few yards further on the path joined a road which went between two pillars with stone statues of boars heads. I felt I was going into the drive of a posh mansion, and around the corner was a gate keepers house.

The path left the drive and went into serious rhodadendron country. There were acres and acres of them, fortunately high at the side to give me shade from the sun. The path was very muddy in places and a bit dangerous with one bit where it went down sharply with bits of rock sticking out. A slip there and I could really have hurt myself. There were a couple of stone structures, built out of dry stone that enclosed almost 360 degrees and had a stone seat in them. I imagined these would be useful to shelter from bad weather. The other two things of note were a pool by the side full of tadpoles, and near that a diversion allowed by a kind landowner because the cliff had collapsed and taken the path with it. There are places like this where the path is allowed to continue close to its true course because of the generosity of the landowners, and I am very grateful to them.

The National Trust owned the next bit of woodland and I was spared the sun until I emerged from the other side after rounding three streams. This was it, no protection. I had already applied suncream and put my shorts on so I was as ready as I could be.

There was a long descent down the road to the Foreland Point lighthouse, followed by a steep climb with steps back up and round a hill. I crossed a piece of open ground and at the top on the lighthouse path caught my first view of Lynton. Appearences can be deceptive and whilst it looked like a ten minute stroll, I knew it was going to take well over half an hour. I was very high above the sea level, the map says about 250m, and I had to lose all that height as well as cover the distance.

Two young couples were going the other way and asked how far to the lighthouse. I said about half a mile or just over and off they went. I sat on a bench and they trouped back again. "Weather looks like it is closing in" said one of the blokes. He was right, it did look dark over the land so I hurried on towards Lynton.

I eventually arrived at Lynton and as I walked in the rain started. Lynton is very much geared up to the holiday season. There is a wide pathway linking the center to nowhere, but is flanked by ice cream sellers, crazy golf and other resort bits and pieces. The shops are mostly cafes, ice cream parlours and nick nack shops. There is also a cliff railway, built in Victorian times and powered by water. The top car has a tank which is filled with water to make it heavier than the counter balancing car at the bottom, so they swap places. It was much higher and longer than I had imagined.

After a half litre of fizzy orange Tango I took refuge in a greasy spoon cafe and had cheeseburger and large chips. Outside it rained hard. It was still raining when it was time for me to go so I changed into my long trousers and cagoule and strode out. I put the spare bin liner I carry over the rucksack to help keep the water out.

I had seen a campsite marked on the map about 1/2 mile inland. What I had failed to comprehend was the road went up a 1:4 hill to get to it. At the campsite there was no-one in the office even though it should have been open, so I started pitching my tent. As I started the owner opened up for a couple of people who were waiting so I went over. The owner was a very nice chap who asked me where I was going and seemed genuinely interested in what I was doing. The site is next to a fairly fast running big stream so I could hear the rushing of water from it in the tent which was a very soothing sound and acted a bit like white noise deadening all other sound.

The midges at the site were numerous, hungry and looking for food. These were the very small ones which left a small red circle when they bit which would itch like mad later. I had to keep brushing them off but I didn't want to use the insect repellant until I had had my shower. I had a nice long hot shower and got into my sleeping bag with aching legs and bum thinking about the next part of the walk in the morning. I was looking forward to the walk down the hill as much as I enjoyed the walk up.

It didn't take me long to get to sleep, I couldn't keep my eyes open.

Next page, Day Three, 07th June 1999, Lynton - Combe Martin.

Previous page, Day One, 05th June 99, Newbury - Taunton - Minehead - Porlock.

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