LAST weekend, with the Met Office promising snow for much of the country, was obviously going to be dangerously unsuitable for walking further along the coast.
Or was it?
Continue reading “XLVII – St Ives to Portreath”other adjectives are available
LAST weekend, with the Met Office promising snow for much of the country, was obviously going to be dangerously unsuitable for walking further along the coast.
Or was it?
Continue reading “XLVII – St Ives to Portreath”
WITH the January weather proving variable, my forty-second birthday saw me ambling gently along five miles or so of the Thames from London Bridge to Greenwich in the company of two good friends. This was entirely lovely. It also reawakened my desire to walk around the coast again.
Thus, a week later, I found myself dozing fitfully through the eight hour overnight bus journey from London to Penzance.
Continue reading “XLVI – Sennen Cove to St Ives”
I SPENT my seventh day in Cornwall having a day of rest, on which I took the Scillonian III over to St Mary in the Isles of Scilly, accompanied for part of the crossing by dolphins, and generally had a pleasant time chilling out on the mist-shrouded island.
But I’m not going to tell you about any of that; I’m blogging about the walks.
Continue reading “XLV – Newlyn to Sennen Cove”
DAY six of my week in Cornwall saw me rise bright and early and open my curtains to the sight of a wall of dense, white fog. It was, I decided, a faerie fog.
ON MY fifth day in Cornwall I was missing a walking sock, despite there being absolutely nowhere it could have gone. Eventually, having searched repeatedly, I asked the piskies nicely if I might have it back.
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”
PERHAPS because of my mad rush to beat the sunset on the previous day, or perhaps because a shower is just not as restorative after a day’s walking as a nice, long soak in the bath, I awoke on the Monday of my week-long Cornish adventure with my legs feeling like lead. Or possibly something heavier. I’d say perhaps uranium, but they really weren’t being that reactive.
‘This bodes well,’ I thought.
Continue reading “XLI – Boswinger to Falmouth”
ON THE Sunday, after rising early and obtaining a hearty breakfast from Cap’n Jaspers on Plymouth Barbican, I caught a train back to Par and began my next walk. In the rain.
‘It’s the West Country,’ I told myself, ‘it always rains.’
Continue reading “XL – Par to Boswinger”
The weekend before last saw me back in Cornwall, taking a week out to walk the coast from Looe to Land’s End. Because I thought it would be fun.
The first day’s walk was from Looe to Par where, having failed to find any accommodation near Par that wouldn’t require a second mortgage or major gold robbery to pay for, I would be jumping on a train back to Plymouth to stay in one of that city’s fine hotels.
Continue reading “XXXIX – Looe to Par”
Dy’ Sul, my a wrug kerdhes dhiworth Aberplymm dhe Logh (ha dhiworth Dewnans dhe Gernow ynwedh).
Or, in English…
On Sunday, I walked from Plymouth to Looe (and also from Devon to Cornwall). Although technically I didn’t actually walk from Devon to Cornwall as that bit was handled by the Cremyll Ferry as it crossed the Hamoaze, the estuarine part of the River Tamar.
Continue reading “XXXVIII – Plymouth to Looe”