THE morning of 6th May 2017 found me blinking at the sun’s harsh glare as its rays danced and sparkled across a vivid blue sea. The sky was azure, dotted here and there with fluffy clouds and palm trees stood proudly in front of the B&B in which I breakfasted. Mountains rose from the island’s interior. Had I somehow travelled to St Lucia by mistake? A glance at my breakfast plate disabused me of the notion. No, this was definitely Scotland.Continue reading “CLXV – Brodick to Lagg”
DAY three of our recent four-day adventure promised to mostly involve walking both sides of the Gare Loch, at the mouth of which sits Helensburgh. Blazing sunshine was unlikely but it was expected to be dry, though rain clouds would sweep in overnight to make the next day a write-off. While this meant that the Lemming and I had to adjust some of our plans for the week, it left those for day three untouched.Continue reading “CLVIII – Helensburgh to Kilcreggan”
I HAD been half-expecting that my walk ending in Glasgow would be the last one of this calendar year before the winter weather rolled in. But, as it turned out, a week of excellent early November weather in Scotland not only coincided with cold and wet weather in London but also with my good friend the Lemming being able to join me for a week, which he did.Continue reading “CLVI – Glasgow to Dumbarton”
THE sky was blue and the sun blazing fiercely when I returned to Girvan late in August. Doused head to toe in my own bodyweight of sunscreen, I strolled back towards the harbour ready to continue from more-or-less where I left off. This would be the first of three days of walking, covering the sixty-odd miles or so between Girvan and Largs. Day one’s objective was Ayr, Ayrshire’s historic county town, where I would stay overnight.Continue reading “CLI – Girvan to Ayr”
THE morning after my arrival in Lancaster, I emerged from my hotel full of enthusiasm, energy and significant quantities of breakfast. A blue sky was bedecked with fluffy white clouds and the clouds were also full of enthusiasm and energy — but probably not breakfast — judging by the speed at which they were bombing across the heavens.Continue reading “CXXIV – Lancaster to Carnforth”
I CHOSE the penultimate weekend of March 2015 on which to return to Preston and continue what was in theory my coastal perambulation, not that much of the first day’s walking could really be described as ‘coastal’.
In theory, my route for the day was pretty simple. I just needed to head west along the northern bank of the Ribble until it widened out into an estuary and I could head north along the coast. That seemed pretty straightforward, what could possibly go wrong?Continue reading “CXXI – Preston to Lytham St Anne’s”
HAVING had a three-month break in my coastal perambulation forced upon me by various factors including but not limited to biting financial constraints and, thanks to the wettest summer in a hundred years, much of the country being inconveniently underwater, I firmly resolved to begin walking again as soon as was feasibly possible.Continue reading “LXXIII – Llanrhidian to Llanelli”
I AWOKE early on Monday morning, refreshed after a deep and restful sleep. I leapt from my hotel bed with a bound of enthusiasm, keen to get on with more walking. I threw back the curtains and looked out of the window, ready for whatever the world chose to throw at me. What I saw out there was Newport.Continue reading “LXV – Newport to Cardiff”
AS IT’S been three weeks since I got back from Cornwall and I’ve let a number of other things get in the way, I thought it was about time I found some to write up some more of that week.
So I did…Continue reading “XLII – Falmouth to Porthallow”
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.Continue reading “XXXIV – Torcross to Salcombe”