HAVING gone to bed without an alarm, I awoke at about four in the morning and vaguely snoozed until about six. I freely admit that I didn’t really want to get up and look out of the window because the dull grey half-light strongly suggested rain. By the time I had performed my ablutions and got dressed, it was a grimly unavoidable truth that Plymouth was firmly enveloped in low cloud and drizzle.
Tag: hills
XXXV – Salcombe to Bigbury-on-Sea
THE last Saturday in September saw me return to Plymouth on an overnight coach, only to then jump on the first bus out of the town. I was joined on this public transport extravaganza by Simkin, who hadn’t been to Plymouth in a while and so used the gap between coach and bus to wander about, much as I had before, taking in all the changes.
XXXIV – Torcross to Salcombe
SUNDAY morning, I awoke bright and early and, after ablutions, made my way downstairs where the B&B owners fed me a massive full English breakfast. They also reminded me to buy water and snacks from the village shop before setting off, there not being any other refreshments until East Portlemouth in twelve and a half miles’ time. Unless I called in at the Coastwatch station on Prawle Point, apparently, where the volunteer manning it generally appreciates having someone drop by and break the monotony and would thus likely provide a cup of tea.
XXXIII – Dartmouth to Torcross
HAVING taken the previous weekend off from walking in order to give my knees a chance to rest, I decided to ease myself back into my perambulatory pastime with a leisurely walk of moderate distance, preceded by a short stint of being an unashamed grockle.
XXXII – Torquay to Kingswear
I AWOKE bright and early in my dodgy-yet-pretentious hotel room feeling very hungry indeed. I had gravely miscalculated in not stopping to eat before getting to the hotel on Saturday night, despite passing a plethora of restaurants in Torquay, and had then felt too tired to go out and look for food upon arriving there. In consequence, I had gone to bed early on a sumptuous dinner of one packet of crisps and my body was demanding calories before it conquered any more hills.
XXXI – Exmouth to Torquay
I WASN’T planning to walk last weekend. Instead, I thought I’d rest my tired knees, which were starting to complain, in an achy sort of way, about the billion or so steps I’ve recently forced them up and down. No, I decided, this weekend I will stay home.
XXX – Seaton to Exmouth
THE actual Bank Holiday Monday began with me lying awake in the small hours wondering if the drunken youths in Weymouth would ever, just for one minute, stop shouting at each other. The cheap and cheerful hotel was rather more central than the previous week’s B&B and in consequence was subject to external noise. All. Bloody. Night.
XXIX – Burton Bradstock to Seaton
MINE was not a lazy Sunday morning, for I found myself up and out of my cheap and cheerful hotel — the main rule of which appeared to be that no two staff members could have the same accent, whether it be foreign or domestic — and awaiting a bus under the gaze of the King’s Statue in Weymouth.
XXVII – The Isle of Portland
SUNDAY’S walk began and ended at Ferry Bridge, being a circular walk around the Isle of Portland.
I awoke not so much with the lark as with a surfeit of alarms, my phone being joined by the alarm clock in my room, which the B&B owners had thoughtfully set for me. I was too early for a cooked breakfast but they laid on cereal, which I declined, and toast, which I munched upon merrily. They then scored highly on the Helpful Mammal Scale of B&B Excellence by asking if, since I wasn’t eating the cereal, I wanted some extra toast instead.
Continue reading “XXVII – The Isle of Portland”XXV – Kimmeridge Bay to Durdle Door
YESTERDAY was a much shorter walk of only eight miles, into which I managed pack a heady mixture of pain, fear, nausea, exhaustion and sheep.
I knew from the outset that I had limited time for the walk. Kimmeridge Bay has no public transport whatsoever, which meant catching a train to Wareham and then a taxi to Kimmeridge. I asked the taxi driver for an estimate of the cost before we set off and, very reasonable chap that he was, he turned off the meter when it turned out to be more.
Continue reading “XXV – Kimmeridge Bay to Durdle Door”