South West Coast Path Journal
by: Ben Corr

Day 1 --- Minehead to past Sugarloaf Hill

Estimated mileage: 16

An encouraging start to the trip. Getting to Minehead was fairly straightforward – a train to Taunton, then bus to Minehead – though the bus segment was far from relaxing. A large proportion of the passengers were heading to Butlins (a popular family resort). I don’t think any of them were particularly unpleasant people, but they were rough. Considering that, for the most part, these were parents with their young children, the language was appalling. Anyway, I choose to skip the details of the journey with these fine examples of working-class Britain and move swiftly on.

I arrived in Minehead around 3pm. Immediately I was hit with the unique smell of a British seaside resort – not as you might think the scent of salt spray and seaweed, but rather the heavy odor of all manner of cheap fairground-style frying food. It is a disgusting smell, but one laden with nostalgia for childhood holidays to the South West. I had no trouble finding the start of the SWCP – follow the promenade until you reach the big bronze marker.

The sixteen miles I’ve covered today have been remarkably varied – already I’ve walked along woody lanes, through quaint villages of thatched cottages, over salt marshes, pebble beaches, and past an extremely nice, but out of the way church. Plenty of climbing and some fine views out over the Bristol Channel to Wales.

Tonight I made a stop shortly after nine and pitched the tarp in a less than ideal spot. I’m pleased enough with the job I’ve done – I only had one tree to work with, so I’ve got a sturdy stick staked out at the other end. The weather’s held much better than I expected and it was joy to sit outside a pub at Porlock Weir with a pint of Otter. The forecast for tomorrow isn’t promising though..

Day 2 --- Sugarloaf Hill to Morte Point

Estimated mileage: 29, Total mileage: 45

A good night’s sleep. It rained briefly around 2.30am. I preemptively woke up just before it started – I think I’ve had too much conditioning being rained on over the years..

Up early and out hiking at 5.45am. Passed the Sisters Fountain shortly after setting out – it was pretty cool, with a big stone cross over it, but it didn’t seem very convenient for actually getting water from, so I passed it up. The hike into Lynton was simple and the town proved to be extremely attractive. I think it helped that I got in before it had opened up and filled with tourists. The only place of use to me was the newsagent, where I bought a coke, some water and more batteries – the camera’s eaten two pairs of AAs already. I wished I could have been there later on – it looked like you could buy some good fudge and ice cream cones piled with clotted cream – nothing could be nicer or less healthy. Hiking out gave the first of many steep climbs for the day. I don’t know how I managed it all – I’m not really in shape having sat on my arse for eight months piling on weight – I guess my legs have enough miles in them to get weak just because I haven’t used them in a while. I guess there’s a lot of psychology involved – it’d take a lot for me to stop on a hill nowadays and it doesn’t really occur to me to take breaks anymore.

I’ve got the highest point of the trail (Great Hangman) behind me already, though it required another sharp climb to do so. I stopped in Combe Martin for lunch – irritatingly it had a poor selection of eateries open and was nowhere near as nice as Lynton. I settled on a slightly ropey greasy spoon café (I probably should have just eaten the food I’m carrying, but I’d got all worked up at the thought of Cornish pasties – that and it had started to rain so I wanted to waste time indoors). Inexplicably, I chose the largest greasy spoon breakfast on the menu, wolfing it all down bar the fried bread (even I won’t stoop that low). I paid up and swiftly made my way to the public lavatories.

A lot of hiking in the rain followed, which I don’t like, and some chafing, which I like less. I passed through the big town of Ilfracombe and didn’t think much of what I saw – I have higher hopes of Woolacombe in the morning. The weather has cleared somewhat, but I’m definitely not going to chance sleeping out. I’ve pitched my tarp fairly ropily in as hidden a spot as I could find. Again I’ve had to rely on a ‘support stick’ due to lack of trees. I don’t have anything for the front end though, so that is a bit wonky. The breeze is picking up and it’s all flapping disconcertingly – fingers crossed. Other things of interest today: a pack of feral goats, many of which were having head butting contests, and Lee Abbey, a big Christian conference/holiday centre.

Right, must sleep.

Day 3 --- Morte Point to Bideford

Estimated mileage: 33, Total mileage: 78

I slept less easily last night – the wind really picked up and I feared for the security of the tarp. I’m amazed it stayed up, but it did.

The day began well. I was up and had hiked the couple or so miles to Woolacombe by 7am. Again, nothing was open bar a newsagent and the public toilets, but I put both to good use. The weather didn’t encourage sitting around on the lovely beach, but but I took a bottle of coke and the newspaper and found some shelter amongst the rocks to have as civilized time as could be contrived. England had defeated the West Indies again [in the cricket], though the whole series has been too such of a farce to take pleasure in.

Eventually I ambled off along the beach towards the ruggedly scenic, but insanely windy Baggy Point. I was blown backwards a couple of feet at one point and struggled to put on my windproof for a full minute (a very long time to thread your arms through two holes in a garment) as it flapped around like something stubbornly defying slimily. On arriving at Croyde Bay, I was unable to resist and ice cream, which I duly bought from a tea room at a time when everyone else was buying breakfast. It was a pretty good – chocolate ice cream in a cone, topped ample clotted cream and a Flake [a Cadbury’s chocolate bar traditional in ice cream cones here] – all for two pounds. Croyde Bay didn’t have too much more to offer me. There’s a surf school here and big surf to match, but today was not the day to learn.

The hike to Saunton was ok, but after that it all went downhill. The rest of the day was spent hiking on the flat across a golf course, along dirt roads (as far as Braunton); and then, for hours on end, along an old railway bed that had been tarmacced over and turned into a cycle path (the Tarka Trail). The views available for all this varied from indifferent downwards. For a long time, wind and rain fought with sunshine (causing a lot of clothing changes), before finally striking a killer blow and taking control of the heavens. It was soul-sapping stuff, not helped by a quick flit through Barnstable, which proved grim, and the steadily growing belief that finding somewhere to camp was going to be tough in the extreme. The railway bed went on and on and on. On one side was usually an overgrown ditch, sometime accompanied by a busy road, on the other side was invariably the estuary or a marsh. Time was rapidly running out, as were my options and enthusiasm. The next (rather vague) hope of camping seemed to be at Westward Ho! (that’s not my exclamation mark – it comes with the name. Personally, I’d like to see place names with question marks at the end). To reach that would have taken a 42 mile day and I had little hope of reaching it in daylight and even less of reaching it in good humor. My best chance was Bideford and so it has proven.

It was around 7.30pm when I rocked, damply and painfully, into town. The tourist information centre was shut, but had lists of accommodation posted outside. No youth hostel, so I began ringing through B&Bs in ascending order of price. I have ended up at a nice enough one (thirty pounds) with a nice hostess, who put the heating on so I could dry out some. I have ordered ‘everything’ for breakfast (having established that this does not encompass fried bread). Bideford seems nice, though I haven’t left my room tonight. The weather forecast for all of the next five days is for ‘prolonged heavy showers’. I don’t know what differentiates ‘prolonged heavy showers’ from ‘rain’, but it’s not good either way. Anyhow, tomorrow is a new day.