Clovelly (again)

It's Clovelly again because the first post got swallowed up in The blogosphere. ¡Qué pena!

So, back to the doings of the day. These brightly painted "shacks" line the beachfront in Westward Ho! I guess if you have lots of gear and you go to the same place often, they serve a useful function:



Say, people, is your vehicle feeling depressed? Has it been making noises of despair, feeling as if other cars are snazzier, newer, maybe even drive themselves? There is a cure! Just bring Old Nellie to this parking lot for a spell. Her self esteem will be as good as new and she will be humming like a dream:





The walk today was gorgeous. I still marvel at the variety of the scenery each day. For some miles, though, the path was narrow and quite overgrown, thankfully, not with stinging nettles:



There were a few tree tunnels:



Foxglove has been a staple since Minehead. This clump gets to be memorialized:



Clovelly, originally an estate, now a tiny town, has two striking features. One is that it is all cobblestone. The other is that you can go either straight up or straight down. Sideways, not so much!





Eli (that is his name; the one in the background is Toby) enjoy those meagre wisps of hay. The food at the New Inn is no better. Neither salt nor pepper for the peas, nor packets of ketchup for the chicken, nor malt vinegar for the fries brought any of it up to edible standards.




Reminds me of a joke: Sarah says to Becky, "So, how was that new restaurant you and Abie tried last night?". "Oy! There you shouldn't go. The food, it was terrible, and the portions, they were so small!"

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Location:Clovelly

A walk in the park

First, the title: a simile, in that there were no parks. OK, so there was one park in Appledore, but I did not visit it. Second, the name of the town, which is always written with a ! at the end.......the town got its name from the Victorian novel, set in Elizabethan England, featuring Sir Francis Drake and the Spaniards, a real Swash Buckler, no doubt, titled Westward Ho! by Charles Kingsley, not the other way around!

Why here is Mr. Kingsley himself!





The walk today, with diversions, was an easy and lovely 15 1/2 miles. The first small portion continued along the asphalt Tarka Trail, but a much prettier section than yesterday's. The trail, an old railway track, has, along its length length, interesting, instructional signs such as:




I never did see any of those kilns, though.

First meander was through the smallish town of Bideford, host to a remarkable number of optical shops. But would you believe that very few carry reading glasses, or, as they are called here, readers. ¡Qué rara!

By and by I happened upon a candy store, the kind where there are jars of sweets lining the shelves and a man behind a wooden counter. One takes the jar of one's choice to the man who measures out the amount you want. What was curious about this shop was that it was open well before 10:a.m., the usual opening hour for businesses of this type. I queried the man about the early hour. He told me that he opens at 8:00 a.m. so that children—though there are not many there—on their way to school, could stop in to buy some treats. How wonderful is that!

After Bideford came the adorable town of Appledore, which is a very short ferry ride from Instow, whence I had set out. However, the ferry runs only once a day for three hours at high tide, which, today, was late in the afternoon, and besides, to have taken it would have meant cutting out about 2/3 of the day's walk. Appledore is known for its dry docks and ship building and such. There was historical information, such as this posted:




A rather odd and optimistic passenger list, definitely not influenced by the Noah story.

Some towns install metal foot markers in the pavement to point out the route:



I love those markers!

A better name, by far, than our "dead-end:"




A section of the estuary that looks like a bunch of mossy jig-saw pieces:




A different Pebble Beach!



Some gigantic white mushrooms in Westward Ho!




Stayed at a gorgeous Victorianish B and B called Culloden House. Enjoyed feeling "dressed up," even if for just a few hours!

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Location:Westward Ho!

Flat is not always easy

Today's route was said to be 12 1/2 miles, but it was just shy of 16. Flat. It was very flat, It looked like this for almost the entire way:



(Sort of like the Farmington Canal, don't you think?)

until at the end, when I got off to take an alternative route, where it looked like this:




a vast improvement. The difficulty was the surface, tarmac all the way, and that is a killer.

First feature of interest was a military training camp. Visitors not allowed:




Right near by, oddly enough, was a posh hotel, where our Fuzz would be welcomed in high style:




Oh, Fuzz, you must come before you go to kitty cat eternity!

The walk was around an estuary. It is surprising that even with industrial invasion and structures causing direct disturbance to the habitat:




that so much bird life can thrive. Not only that, but a LARGE area of grass, which is coarse, thick and a little salty (so said the instructive sign) is excellent food for sheep whose (future) chops are prized for their distinctive taste due to this privileged diet:


Ahhh, she must have been a beauty in her day:



There is a super gourmet grocery in Instow, John's it is called, where I went to get some supplies. There was one package of walnuts left on the shelf, so I snagged it, not having great expectations because I have already bought and tossed about four bags, all the nuts being rancid, but these, it turned out are excellent. I looked on the package to see the country of origin. Would you believe China?

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Location:Instow

An easy day!

It really was, and gorgeous, too! Just one significant climb. Longish, though, at just under 17 miles. There was a surprising variety of scenery, from beach:




along which it was lovely to walk barefoot.

To vast open fields:




through which one does wear boots.

To an estuary:



along which one walks on a raised path.

And much else not photographed.

It was a gorgeous day, which you could probably ascertain from the cloudless sky (see just above). In fact, it was the first hot day. Hot and sunny enough to reapply sunscreen a couple of times.

Surfers, were out early:




And a triathlon was in progress. It was kind of funny to see a big, blow-up Finish Line sign and hear Beach Boys music blaring at 8:00 a.m. A bit later, I had to share the path with runners:



I called out, "Good luck," now and then to which some runners grunted, some said, "Good morning," or "I need it," or some such, but can you imagine my surprise when one guy said, "Thanks, Vicki!" What? Then I remembered that yesterday, as I was headed up a narrow road, an RV, which occupied the entire width of the road was coming the other way. Just as I was trying to figure out what to do, because there was no room to move to the side, the RV stopped, one guy got out, opened a gate, and the other guy turned into a driveway. The guy-who-got-out and I started to chat, and he invited me to see the house that he and his partner(?) were building because it had a great view, especially from the soon to be Bar-B-Q pit. Anyhow, it turned out that the driver guy was participating in the event this morning! How do you like that!

Inter alia, I was very happy to finally get a shot of a bunny, because they do tend to skitter away quickly:




Let's call him Peter!

A flock of black sheep look not ALL that different from the surfers:




On second thought, they do look pretty different. I thought they were otters or some sea creature, what with their basking on the point and all, but, no, they were sheep.

I did not see the bull:





But he must be very bullish because the field was full of his ladies and their young. Here is a pair who seem not to be on speaking terms at the moment:





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Location:Braunton

The 15 mile challenge

Can't say for sure that the stage from Combe Martin to Woolacombe is 15 miles (the book says 14.75 or something) because I forget to reset the GPS after a stop, but it felt like 25. Yesterday's walk is reputed to be one of the toughest on the path, but compared to today's, it seemed almost modest! I don't think I ever did so much upping and downing and so many stairs for such a distance. It took from 7:00 a.m. to about 3:00 with maybe a half hour stopping altogether. Much dramatic scenery, though.

Leaving Combe Martin, the water looked silver:




I just love this shade of blue:



Sometimes it is easy to miss a directional sign:



View from the bench where I stopped for lunch:



Others lunching with a friend:



or alone:




or for the third or fourth time, perhaps:



These were fire-engine red, but look more purply in this picture and maybe even prettier:



Despite the disconcerting sign, you go up anyway:



As elegant as was last night's lodging, so is tonight's, shall we say, casual. Meet Roger, the host:



Did you notice that he is not wearing shoes? He let me use the kitchen, though, to make a salmon sandwich, which was very nice of him.

Tomorrow's walk is longer than today's, but it supposedly has some stretches classified as "easy," but after today's classifications of "moderate" (?) and "strenuous" (here! here!) I am dubious!

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Location:Woolacombe

Lynmouth and Combe Martin

What a wonderful time I had with Ruth and Paul, dear walking friends from many walks ago!



We met in Lynmouth, a town that survives on fudge shops and tea rooms. The Big Town, where there is a bit of a grocery store and a pharmacy, is Lynton to which you can ascend by means of a funicular that works on a weight system. When one car goes up the other car comes down. The trip takes about two minutes. Fun! Dinner at The Sunrise Hotel, the hot spot in town, where the waiter kept addressing me as Madam, pronounced in the French style!

Next morning taxied to Simonsbath, whence we walked about 13 miles back to Lynmouth. I would have been a wreck to have walked this on my own because a couple of significant stretches are over the moor (which makes sense, since the walk is the last leg of the Two Moors Way), so, no path. And what sinage there was was quite poor. There were a couple of swollen streams to cross, too. Both Ruth and Paul are good navigators, but Paul has an Ordnance Survey+quasi GPS on a Tablet, which fits into a leg pocket of this pants. Very impressive and useful. Needless to say, we did not get lost.

After tea at Watersmeet National Trust Tea House, we went on to other explorations, namely a Ravine whose water is used to generate hydroelectric power. On the way up we saw this:




Guess what it is.

Nearby was a baby redwood, one of two in the park:




To go in or not to go in?



Just so you know that there was lots of water rushing down and very beautiful looking it was:




After good bye, and the hint of the possibility of a plan for Ruth to meet me at the end of the walk—I do hope she will be able to—(Paul is signed up for a 10K), they left to visit family and I set out for Combe Martin. But here you must know that these posts are possible because with great patience and skill, Paul figured out how to get photos to upload. I am so happy!!

The walk was tough but gorgeous, with a surprising variety of scenery and weather! Hot and humid for five minutes, then blustery and cold, then spitting rain. On with the gear and off with the gear. That sort of thing really slows a body down!

This name must have a backstory:




Could it be this?




Clouds looking as if they are coming up from the earth, but a few minutes after admiring them, freezing rain fell, so apparently they originated in their usual place:



The summit of the Great Hangman duly noted:



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Tonight I have the treat of staying at a super nice B and B, Blair Inn. The couple who run it are extraordinarily generous and kind, the room, the whole place, in fact, is comfortable and very pleasant, and Rachel, the wife of the pair is a five star cook, so dinner was delicious. Then Nick, the husband of the duo, supplied me with maps and copied directions for my walking stage tomorrow, after my daily packet vanished. (Don't ask.)

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Location:Combe Martin

First official stage

A gorgeous first stage in every respect. After a couple of miles, there was a choice, the Official Path or




which was an hour and a half to two hours longer than the Official Path. I started down the O.P., but then thought, "It is such a beautiful day and I am not in a hurry, and this path seems a bit dull," so I turned around and headed towards the R.A. Was I ever glad I made that choice! It was wild and magnificent, and not a soul around!

Arrived at destination At 2:00, the earliest check-in time, and was welcomed by this mom and her baby. Note that Mom has red nail polish:




There is bric-a brac of every sort you can imagine all around and tons of books, stuffed chairs and sofas, paintings, you name it, but it works (except for the horrible looped music that reminds you of those shops, where, when you walk in the door, everything smells of incense).

His eyes were not in good shape, but the rest, not so bad, a classic good looker (in the style of David)?




Loved this plant stand:




and the poor, sad, black sheep:




View from the top of the stairs:


Relics from a good hunt, perhaps!

Tomorrow meet Ruth and Paul Simms, wonderful friends who are driving five hours to Lynmouth so that we can walk the last stage of the Two Moors Way together. Looking forward very much to this rendez-vous.

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Location:Porlock Weir