It was bound to happen: rain. Everything is harder in the rain, not least is figuring out where to go. Also, walking through woods, while a treat on a hot day, is just dark in the pouring rain. By and by, as I was approaching a clearing, I heard barking and a second later, five dogs bounded toward me. Guess how much I loved that! As their owner passed by me, he said, “You scared them.” Guess what I wanted to tell him!

There were two long wonderful sections of sea wall to walk on today. Loved that part. Before the sea wall, there was some great outside-in-the-park art in Teignmouth, but because of the rain, I could not take any pictures. Sad.

There were also two ferry rides. The first, from Chaldon to Teignmouth, is, apparently, the oldest ferry route in England. The rain was letting up, so I took two photos. Here is the ferry pulling right up to the beach…..no ferry slip for this honey. You just walk up the gangway:

And here is a front view of proud captain Dave

View from the sea wall:

The sun came out in the afternoon for the ferry ride to Exmouth:

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Location:Exmouth

Leaving Dartmouth on the car ferry. Why not the passenger ferry? Because the car ferry begins its run a half hour earlier:

Reminders of the war are many. There was a series of plaques at the ferry slip:

Didn’t look dangerous to me:

View:

Young people playing cricket on the beech:

The Golden Hind….a replica, bien sur, and a real beauty she is:

At the Brixham museum, inter alia, you can learn some interesting facts about life on board a fishing ship:

Then it is nice to go back to your B and B and take a hot shower, have something to eat, and get into a comfortable bed (except the bed in this case was not so wonderful, though definitely superior to the ones described above).

A ge -u-ine fog horn:

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Location:Brixham

The other property to see—in addition to Coleton Fishacre—is Greenway, Agatha Christie’s country House and gardens. To get there, you take a different ferry and for a pleasant half hour, cruise up the busy River Dart, and voila, there you are! This house has a lot of STUFF, and depending on your interests, you will be fascinated or mildly ho-hummed after a while.

This bouquet is made of shells

A collection of boxes:

My favorite was a whole bunch of miniature woven strips that were designed as name tapes. The detail is so fine:

Couldn’t take a lot of pictures because you aren’t suppose to use a flash, and the flash on my camera goes off all the time, and there were lots of people in the rooms, so I had to shoot where I could, like here:

What is striking about that toilet is that it seems rather quaint for the 1950’s.

The gardens were large and beautiful, but did not have the exuberance of those at Coleton Fishacre.

Mother and child:

Tree branch:

Dancing flowers:

To return, my plan had been to walk 30 minutes to the steam train, take that to Kinsgwear and the ferry back to Dartmouth. But not surprisingly, it did not work out that way. I started on the steep route to the train (a moderate route was also possible) and in about ten minutes, the signs for the train were gone and in their place was “Kingswear three miles.” Nice day, so why not walk back. Keep going for a while and a sign emerges “Kingswear three and a half miles.” Confused, I shrug and follow this brand new set of signs. Walk and walk and walk, and the signs STOP at an intersection with a major road. Follow major road down, meet a man and his wife, chit chat, and they tell me I can get to Kingswear by going up some steps and so on. So I do until those signs stop and paths are going all over the place. The half hour walk turned into a two+ hour meander, but back I got, and went immediately to the Dartmouth Museum, where I saw a thirty minute film, all authentic footage, about preparations for D-Day. Most of the movie was about the Americans who were sent here to train. It was quite emotional, and I was sorry that there was not more time to spend in the museum, but it was closing time.

View of the Dart on the way back from Greenway:

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Location:Dartmouth

On the way, which was like a treasure hunt, the route being so convoluted, a stone bridge;

There were only about eleven miles to cover today, so I arrived in Dartmouth shortly after noon—after a pause at Dartmouth Castle where I actually sat down and had a piece of delicious cake, but decided I did not want to spend a lot of time looking at guns and fortifications, so did not linger longer—and headed immediately for the tourist information center. I told the lady that I like gardens and art and wanted to see Coleton Fishacre. “Might there be such a conveyance as a taxi?” I asked, because walking would take too much time. As luck would have it, there is one taxi in Kingswear, a short ferry ride across the Dart River, and yes, the one taxi driver would pick me up in a while and take me to the house. Off to the ferry, waited a bit for the guy, and not only did he show up, we made a deal that he would take me back to the ferry, and he suggested that I leave my pack and boots in the trunk (or boot if you want to be British about it). I did! Unencumbered I toured the house and gardens of D’oyly Carte.

Built and furnished in the 1920’s, it was quite different from, say, Lanhydrock:

It was light and airy, with inviting, simple—relatively speaking—furnishings. You were allowed to touch many things and move about the rooms: no velvet cordons keeping you at the entry just peeking in. It had a happy feel to it.

Things have changed since M’Lord and M’Lady had completely separate quarters:

Even the maids’ areas were hugely improved:

I would love to have this kitchen, including the leaded glass windows:

The gardens were vibrant and extensive:

With some quiet spots, too:

Even the garden art was fun:

It was a glorious afternoon, and proof that getting going early in the morning can pay off by giving you time to do the extras you might otherwise miss!

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Location:Dartmouth

Salcombe is an upscale town. I stayed smack in the middle of the harbor area in a pub with a converted hayloft that offers two rooms. (Not so upscale.) The sign over the door reads MIND YOUR HEAD, and you really have to!

A couple of fine sloops:

The walk started with a ferry ride across the estuary to East Portlemouth. Normally the ferry begins its runs at 8:00 a.m., but this being Sunday, the first departure was at 8:30. This is not good for my routine! Usually by 8:30 I have about four miles under my feet, but there were no other options. At least I had company while waiting:

The ferryman did show up on time and the ride was less than five minutes. It was a long, hot day, though…16 miles. Those last miles feel a lot longer as the afternoon wears on.

Stones lined up like grave stones. They look more convincing from the other side but the light was wrong to shoot from there!

Can you see the sailboats in the distance?

What was of note here was the two sets of cliffs. Cliffs in the back, flat land, then another set of not very high cliffs. Wondering about the formation of that phenomenon:

Beach art in Torcross:

A perfect day for flying:

A memorial in Slapton:

Lots of Americans trained here—and many were killed in training exercises— for D-Day because the beaches are like those in Normandy. In fact, on November 13, 1943, villagers and farmers in the village were given six weeks to pack up everything they owned, including livestock and crops and move outside the area which was to be requisitioned for D-Day practice. 750 families in all (this included some neighboring villages) were evacuated by the 29th of December. Most of the cattle were simply killed, and many of the villagers never returned.

Now we come to this charming village, stay at a place called Tower Inn—because it sits right next to this ruined fragment of a church that Henry VIII had destroyed—and that traumatic time is hard to imagine:

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Location:Slapton

Starting out:

The peaceful moments do not last long:

How can you be aware of a flying golf ball until it hits you in the head and you are knocked out, at which point you are no aware of anything?

If it is not one thing, it is another:

Perfect spot for a restaurant called The Gun and Anchor:

A beach:

Gorgeous scenery on all sides:

And huge rocks on all sides:

Mother and son:

Salcombe:

Wanted to take a boat ride around the estuary but they cancelled it because there were not enough people. (Only me!) Disappointed!

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Location:Salcombe

Today’s 14 miles, a fair amount of it seriously demanding, had two logistical issues. First, the River Earme. It can be forded only for one hour on either side of low tide, so a taxi was arranged by Encounter (the booking people), but wouldn’t you know, I probably could have waded across. The thing is it would not be possible to call a taxi from the river, especially at the time I got there, so you give in to common sense and go overland by car. Then there was the Avon. It can be crossed by ferry, which does run at this time of year. But apparently the ferry is fickle, and the ferry guy cannot be reached, well, he can, but he won’t be reached. And it only runs a couple of hours a day. I could have tried to take it, but arranged for the same taxi to take me instead. This means that I will not have walked 1 mile of the coastal path! Of a truth, it was a mile and a half to the ferry slip, but I walked some of it and turned back to meet the taxi at the prearranged time. It is stupid to be disappointed in oneself for something like this, but I am!!

Two burned fir trees:

Most of the walking today was over fields, as in through grass. Do not think “flat.” A lot of it was very very steep. OK, so not in this photo!

Through a wheat field:

Several terrains and the sea and me:

There were some dramatic shorelines, but they never look as stunning in a picture:

While crossing a beach:

The start of a big descent:!

Last night’s accommodations were unsurpassable and tonight’s might not pass a health inspection. The yuckiness made me think especially of Marjorie who would have been so grossed out! On the plus side, the room was large, had two windows, a good towel, and a decent shower. However, it smelled like that awful blue toilet cleaner used in cheap restaurant bathrooms, and it was dirty as in grimy. To make tea, you had to put the kettle on the floor because the plug would not reach an outlet otherwise. That was when I noticed that the baseboards had probably not been cleaned since the millennium. The sheets were stained and the carpet needed cleaning. The hook fell off the bathroom door and part of the door handle came apart. Oh, and the plumbing made noises like you never heard! Roars and groans and shudders when you turned on the water or flushed the toilet.

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Location:Bantham

Is this a pool, or what!

Painting with story of painting below:

There are several horbours at Plynouth. This is one:

A whole other universe:

The walk today began with 7.5 miles through city and industrialscape. You could take a ferry to cut out the section, but I did not. Anyone who has done walks like this knows how challenging it can be to make your way through city streets and stay on the path, but leaving at 6:45 a.m. when the streets are empty of people and there is not a ton of traffic, made it much easier to see the signs, which were really quite good (and the guide book was excellent for this section). I certainly had my concerns!

Tanks and truck:

To liven things up, there is a poetry wall. Here is one panel:

the poem continues: of coastal history, stands this breeze block bulkhead between the land and sea. (There is more, but you get the gist.) One difficulty reading the poems is that you have to be walking in the right direction to see the panels in order. Kind of a fun concept, though.

There was also some art, like this rhino:

In the ship graveyard:

We come on the sloop John B……:

Waiting for customers:

Siesta time. Not moving for anyone:

There was a short ferry ride today, and here is how you do it. You go down to the ferry pier and you open a panel, which, in this case, was a big white circle. The ferry man sees the open panel and comes to get you. Of a truth, ferry man will not come to get you until he has a fare on the other side. Fortunately, that did not take too long. Long walk today, 18 miles, not difficult walking, but 18 is still a lot of miles!

Staying at a gorgeous farmhouse. Jackie, the lady in charge, let me use her kitchen and told me I could finish up her tuna. So I made toast, pulled out the lettuce from the bottom of my pack, finished up the tomatoes that had been packed in the suitcase, used the tuna, and had a great dinner! Dessert was the remnants of a scone with peanut butter, a couple of handfulls of granola and chocolate. No complaints!

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Location:Nos Mayo

Cows in the early morning:

Part of the route today passed through a military firing range. If the military is firing, you cannot pass through the range, but must take the road instead, an undesirable option. There are (many) signs that warn you:

And gates that make you say, “whoa”

But most important is the red flag. If the red flag is flying, you DO NOT ENTER. As you can see, the red flag is not flying:

The location of this range was Fort Tregantle, which has something of an ignominious history. The fort was built between 1854 and 1858. It was thought that the French were preparing to attack by land, so the fort had its 87 guns aimed inland. But wouldn’t you know that before the fort was finished, technology had improved so that the French could effectively bombard from the sea, rendering those 87 big guns pretty much useless. Anyway, a picture of the fort:

What are the odds of this fort protecting anyone?

Time to go:

Ditto:

Plymouth is a lively city that likes to show people a good time:

The boat Victoria, fist to sail around the world—so it is said:

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Location:Plymouth

Off early, as usual, to catch the best walking hours of the day. The walk today was pleasant, varied, but not dramatic except for one fun bit. There is a mile of beach, which you can walk across if the tide is low. But if it is not, you are supposed to take the road, which is unpleasant….not only does it mean walking on asphalt, but the concept of “shoulder” does not exist, so it is disconcerting when the cars whiz by without so much as a how do you do.

Back to the beach. It was thirty minutes before high tide when I arrived, so I asked a dog-walking lady if the beach was passable. She told me that one could walk to a certain point, take a flight of steps, and then go back down further on. Great! Get near steps and water is sloshing over the rocks, so off come the boots and through the water and over the rocks I go to reach the steps. It was rather fun, really! Again I had to ask about exiting the beach further down, and I was, and have been in general, so impressed by the helpfulness of people.

One view en route:

There is a monkey preserve that I really wanted to visit, but I would have had to wait two and a half hours for it to open, so, alas, I had to skip that.

Look who was back again today!

Dishrag with a view:

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Location:Crafthole