Sunday 9th June 2002 - Day two, Gillan Harbour to Falmouth Prev Next

I woke early to hear the rain lashing down outside and I was very pleased that I had found a B&B to stay in. I then slept intermittently until eight O'clock when it was time for breakfast. And what a feast it was, cereal, full english, toast and tea, the works.

Breakfast over, I set about improving the waterproof cover for the rucksack by adding a string at the top. When I finished I noticed that it had stopped raining, it was brighter and there was some blue sky in the distance. Maybe I wouldn't need the waterproofs after all. Yep, it was definitely brighter so I packed the waterproofs away.

I paid my due's (£18-00) and said goodbye (I didn't see James the cat) and walked down to the stepping stones after being advised that they might be slippery and it might be an idea to wade across. When I got to Gillan Harbour this would appear to be the case. Of stepping stones there was little evidence, and anything that could be seen was covered in slippery seaweed. I took off my boots and socks, then put a thin pair of socks back on for some protection as you never know what is there and waded over. It didn't get more than about a foot deep at any point. This was infinitely preferable to walking a mile and a half around the edge and I soon had dry boots and socks back on.

The first part of the coast path out of Gillan appeared to go up to the corner of a field but then seemed to fizzle out. Another walker caught up with me and we chatted as we decided which way the path really went. He was doing the whole path in one go and had been at it nearly a month from Minehead. Once we had decided where the path went we followed it around field edges, then the path then ducked into the woods of Bosahan Estate where it is a permissive path. It was quite wet underfoot from the previous nights deluge so I had to watch where I was treading, but nevertheless it was very pleasant. Outside the woods I could see the day brightening up. The woods go on for quite a long way but eventually I ended up on the Helford road and back at the ferry jetty.

On the jetty were several walkers ready to cross including the chap I met earlier. With a months practice he was walking faster than me. The big yellow circle to summon the ferry was already open and presently the ferry arrived and transported us to the other side in a day that was becoming sunnier and sunnier.

On the north side the path continues along field edges and dipping down into the occasional cove. Walking is generally easy on either the field edges or between hedges on a well worn path. Around Toll Point I stopped for a spot of lunch, to write my log and to apply a covering of sun cream as the clouds melted away to fair weather cumulus. I sat on a bench dedicated to one Francis McLaren 1949 - 1960 and soaked in the scene. I also hung out my channel wading socks to dry in the sunshine and aired my feet. As I put my boots back on ready to resume, a mountain biker came crunching down the path behind me. 'Hiya', 'Hi', and he was gone.

A little further some elderly people out for a walk stayed back from a narrow part of the path that was bounded by hedges in much the same way that cars pull over for an oncoming juggernaut on a narrow road. I guess a huge backpack does have some advantages.

Some of the land around Mawnan has been bought by the National Trust and is mostly wood. There are many paths through the wood and a path off to Mawnan that I passed, but only one entrance and exit. The route I took did a zig-zag down to a lower track before climbing up some steps and out of the wood. Gentle undulations with a mixture of little wooded bits and hedges followed until the next piece of National Trust land around Rosemullion Head. At Rosemullion Head it is open fields with cows and not bullocks for a change.

Ahead I could see Falmouth and the next headlands of my walk, behind I took a last look at Gillan Harbour and the mouth of the Helford river. As I walked I started musing about the distance that the path covered. If a mile is 1,760 yards, rounded up is about 2,000, and the path is 630 miles, rounded down is about 600, then the whole thing is about 1,200,000 yards, and, if my pace carrying the rucksack is about half a yard then it is going to take 2.4 million strides to cover the whole thing. A bit generous but 2 million at least. I rambled on. Approaching Maenporth the path cuts across properties access to the sea and is bounded by fences with gates saying things like 'Private', 'Keep out' and 'No access', then a high wooden fence as if the residents behind it wish to deny any existence of the path whatsoever. The path was quite muddy in places.

A man with unsuitably clean white trainers came the other way looking for a beach. He was the advance party for a group of similarly shod friends but the mud was too much and they gave up. At Maenporth I trudged along the back of the beach, was thwarted by the locked public toilets and continued. What is the point of building public toilets if they are then kept locked because of 'running expenses' or some other excuse.

The final stretch to Falmouth is well marked initially by hedgerow edges, then fences. I passed a small monument with a couple and three collie dogs taking a rest then turned at Pennance Point for Falmouth. Here again the path was crossed by mud making it difficult for those without boots.

At Swanpool Beach I was tempted by an ice cream from the beach cafe before going in search of the nearby tent camp site. Swanpool is so named because of the small lake behind it that is a nature reserve and home to many different aquatic birds, including swans. I misread the map and ended going to the cemetry instead.

Once I realised something was wrong and read the map correctly I made my way back past Swan Pool and up the correct road. I found the site which had a large, permanent looking sign outside it saying 'Tent Park Closed' and a big heap of old rubbish. I wasn't doing very well with my intended stops.

It was decision time, did I continue further up the road away from the path where more camp sites were marked on the map, or did I do a little more of the path into Falmouth and find another B&B. I could camp but the weather didn't look so good as earlier, or I could have a comfy bed, no tent to put up and take down, and a full english breakfast. Mmm, I must be going soft in my old age.

In Falmouth I walked up the first road looking in bewilderment at the number of hotel signs. At the top of the road was a hotel offering B&B at 'competitive price' according to the sign. I rang the bell but got no response. In the hotel opposite a lady said she only had doubles at £30, and I received the same response from a gentleman further on. There were several 'No Vacancies', another with £30 for a single then one with a single available for £18-50. I took it.

The single turned out to tbe a small double with a sea view if you looked hard between the buildings. The important thing was that I had a large bed to lay my aching feet, shoulders and head on. Finally after another couple of aspirin I got rid of my headache from the previous afternoon.

I had started reading 'Round Ireland with a fridge' by Tony Hawkes. He has a drunken bet, which even in the cold light of day he thinks is worth doing. It is to hitch-hike around Ireland inside a month - with a fridge. Needless to say it makes good reading. I like humorous travel stories.

I read the book, showered and shaved, wrote my log, read some more book and fell asleep. I was done for the day.

Next page, Day three, 10th June 02, Falmouth to Portscatho.

Previous page, Day one, 8th June 02, Falmouth to Gillan Harbour.

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