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

I woke at just gone half five, got changed, went into the toilet block, then as usual spent forever getting ready to go. My calf muscles were a bit sore to say the least as I set off back to Lynton. I was right. I did enjoy the descent as much as the ascent to the camp site.

I picked up the coast path which was not immediately obvious except for a small sign and began a long climb next to the bottom of the cliff railway. From the bottom it really does look a long way to the top. The path was all tarmac which make it easier walking up than it might otherwise have been. After 100yds I had a snickers bar. Twice on the ascent the path crossed the cliff railway on bridges. Eventually it headed west to the Valley of Rocks. I resisted the temptation to detour to see the Valley of Rocks but stuck to the coast path. As I rounded a bend at the other end of The Valley three goats walked across the path and up ahead I could see more on a rocky outcrop.

I crossed the far end of the Valley. It looked interesting, and I could see how people who didn't go far from their cars would be impressed, but I have seen much more spectacular scenery on the path. I continued on the road for a considerable distance through an estate with toll road, then to Woodland bay where it became a real path again. A chap who must have been 15 years my senior came running by and up the hill with ease; suddenly I felt very unfit. All this woodland is nice but I also came to see some scenery - you can get bored of too much woodland you know. Eventually I left the woodland behind and I was on the path next to the sea and some wilder countryside.

Gently the path went down to a rocky outcrop called Highveer Point. An elderly couple walked up from the point before I reached it, and we bade each other 'Good Morning'. At the point the view was excellent in all directions and I stopped for a five minute break. Wales was clearly visible as was the coastline I was walking down, and looking down I could see a path to Heddons Mouth which is a day tripper sort of place. Sure enough there were some day trippers down there. On the other side of the mouth the path could clearly be seen on the hillside but slightly higher up than I was; there were a couple of lads just rounding the corner in the direction I was going.

At ten to eleven I continued on going down a long path, all the way to the stream at the bottom. A nicely made stone bridge crossed the stream before the path went up again. On the flat part before the climb back up were a couple in their early thirties; I don't know what it is but you can tell when people are not going to speak to you. They sat on a bench where the path doubled back and started to climb. 'Morning' I said. The bloke continued looking forward but a look of panic crossed his face as his eyes twitched towards me, his wife stiffened and continued looking forward into the middle distance, her face also registering panic and confusion. I left Mr & Mrs Rude-Person on their bench and began the very long steep ascent.

It was so steep that some of the time I could only move my boots half a boot length forward as one foot after the other I pushed up. The most difficult part was where scree had come across the path and meant careful footwork on a not completely firm surface. Shortly afterwards the slope levelled and I walked up to the corner I had looked at from the other side. It was ten to twelve.

I stopped for a well earned drink and to also put my long sleeve top on as the wind was coming along that stretch. The path narrowed to 3-4 feet wide with rock on one side and a big drop on the other. My instinct was to stop and I had to concentrate on getting myself around it, it was a scary moment. This stage was more open as the wind picked up and I got out my cagoule and put it on over the top. The path continued on past fields of sheep, past an abandoned car in the field and onto open heather moorland. Halfway across the moorland I stopped for snickers and bread, and to find the dustbin liner because I could see rain. In the end the cloud moved futher north and Wales got it.

I was just enjoying a gentle stroll around the hill when into sight came 'Great Hangman', the highest point in Devon (nearly); a large dark forboding hill. The sun came out like it meant it so I put on shorts, plastered myself with sun cream and entered the 'Great Hangman' National Trust property.

Before I got onto Great Hangman itself I had to drop to stream level again. This stream was across a wall and the gap and means down were not easy to negotiate. Luckly there was a tree with a couple of well polished branch stems sticking out that a lot of people had used previously. The 200m climb up Great Hangman was memorable as hot, long and painful, and also for the small skull on the pathway which added to the atmostphere. Dark clouds and a clap of thunder would have completed the scene.

At the summit is a pile of rocks with an upright one at the centre. If I had known I would have brought my own rock up. As I approached the top I got my first glimpse of Lundy far away in the distance, just over 45km away. I sat down and had a drink. A couple walked past and said 'Hello' as I started to pack up and get moving quickly. Further on the sky looked very dark and bubbly, and I had visions of the rain I just managed to avoid in Lynton the day before. Down the other side of Great Hangman I met a fit middle aged couple going up, then dropped down past the very steep hill which is Little Hangman and on to Combe Martin.

Before I got there the pathway split and it wasn't obvious which way to go. I started on the left track but this seemed to be going a long way to nowhere so I back tracked and chose the right track which was nearer the sea and descended steeply. I backed the wrong horse and had to return to the first track which brought me out by coastpath signs into the main car park. It was one of the very few places where the coast path is not clearly marked.

The order I required things in was provisions, dinner and a camp site. The former was satisfied by a grocery store up the main road which stocked more variations of cider than I care to mention, and the latter recommended as Newberry Farm Camp site when I asked. Dinner was provided by the Harbour House Cafe which did an excellent all day breakfast including fried bread, and used ingredients obtained locally or from their own farm wherever possible. I will eat there again if I ever have the opportunity. I was tempted (but resisted) by the Lemon Meringue pie which had at least 3" top above the lemon layer.

Finding the camp site was tricky until I checked on the map. I had walked backwards and forwards a couple of times before I found that it was just around a corner that I nearly got to first time. The lady owner was very business like as she directed me to a plot where, the ground was well drained, flat and mown, and the toilet/showers were immaculately clean. I put up the inner of the tent and draped the outer over some crash barriers to dry off, then went out to 'phone home. The tent was drying well when I returned and I finished off writing my log before getting water, washing up and having a shower. The showers were nice and hot, and were spotlessly clean. I didn't drop off to sleep so quickly and heard the weather forcast at just after midnight, bright start becoming cloudier with rain later possibly heavy.

Next page, Day four, 08th June 1999, Combe Martin - Croyde.

Previous page, Day two, 06th June 1999, Porlock - Lynton.

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