The forecast

Yesterday, en route to the ferry to Exmouth, a sun-dried guy, maybe 50, but looked 80, coming the other way, asked me if I was walking the path. "Yes," I said. "So am I," he said. "I took today off because of the rain," he added. "It is supposed to be much worse tomorrow. Why don't you sit it out?" "I do not sit out," I thought to myself. "I am a woman on a mission. I do not sleep in TENT. I have destinations to reach!" But I smile, and acknowledge his suggestion, and, by the way, I have no idea whether or not he is camping, and I worry.

Get to hotel. Check weather report. It is terrible, dire, one might say. Heavy rain and severe wind. Yellow (or was it orange) wind alert. Water activities cancelled. Thunder at times. This is not good. The route notes describe the spray blowing in your face as a matter of course. Will I be able to walk, as in put one foot in front of the other, against the force of the wind? Will I be blown off the sea wall or a cliff?

Get up early, as things are supposed to become REALLY BAD by noon. Maybe I can beat the forces of nature. I have a plan. I will wear Pertex wind shirt, which has been biding its time in my pack for a moment such as this. I will will wear poncho-that-doubles-as-tent, and rain pants, and stupid orange gators (very bad fashion choice, that). I will face the elements with fortitude.

6:45 a.m. It is raining only a little. The wind is not bad. Keep on the outer garments. IT WILL COME. I will be prepared. Only it gets hotter and more humid, and I am sweating in my costume. Eventually, I can stand it no longer. Take off the poncho and wind shirt, and rain pants. Fifteen minutes later, all of a sudden, it begins to pour.

Took some shots of gorgeous red rock formations, only to discover later that I, having left the SD card in the card reader last night due to excessive anxiety no doubt, had no photos!

Don't you wish you had a pair like this?



Visited Sidmouth Museum where I did meet ye town crier of yore in his snazzy uniform:



This doll is named Rosie (honest), And she has a story. She arrived in Sidmouth with her owner, a little girl, who had been evacuated from London in 1940:




You should hear these waves crash! The sounds and smells along the way are wonderful:




The local RNLI station was open. Here is dude asking for donations:



And dude-ess, too. Or is she showing off her nail polish?



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Location:Sidmouth