But somewhat long on confusion. B and B is quite off the path—it is worth the trek, for sure—but figuring out how to get here, being misdirected, walking on major roads in the heat of the day, in circles, and then having a mile+ schlep up a track-like road, was, shall we say, annoying. On arrival, a hot cup of tea and a delicious piece of saffron cake with butter, served in the garden, made the tiredness vanish.

Wild Shetland ponies:

A boat in the big blue sea looks so wee from shore:

And a lighthouse:

Among these rocks do live seals. There are signs around telling visitors to be VERY QUIET so as not to frighten them. Who knew that seals were so sensitive? But I, alas, did not see any of our little-eared, barking, flippered friends. ¡Qué lástima!

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Location:Gwithian

Some lucky ladies exiting the beach in style:

But before 6:00 a.m, the birds have it all to themselves:

Soon the humans invade:

Go to Youtube and write in “Cliff collapse in the UK” and you will get to see what unstable can mean:

ALWAYS go with the acorn:

Selfie (unintentional) in moonscape sort of terrain:

Big hole with HAT:

Crooked tree and bench:

Disturbing, though it is not meant to be:

Steep down along perimeter of Military Defense Area:

Followed by steep up:

Heather against the cliffs:

And another beautiful day of walking is over.

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Location:Perrranporth

Why sad? Because the best photos of the whole walk so far just disappeared. Gone! They simply are not on the memory card. So, before anything else, what were they of? Well, there were WARNINGS about adders, the only poisonous snake in the UK, who sun themselves at this time of year, so one is WARNED to stay on the paths. How clever of those adders not to choose the paths as their sungrounds! Then there were WARNINGS at a military installation about non-ionizing radiation. So don’t try to break in, anybody! There were WARNINGS about mine shafts, that you should not fall into. And WARNINGS about debris from military exercises that you should not touch because any of it could explode and kill you.

Then there was an ice cream parlour that caters to our four-footed friends, offering them their own special flavours such as beef, venison and rabbit, and pork. And there was this big bull dog sort of drooly dog named Rocca, whose picture I took a she was slurping up a large venison and rabbit scoop. Oh, it was something to see, it was!

And there were photos of myriads of people playing on the beach, a veritable carnival of colour and joy.

And the photo of the sweet little bridge that spans the Gannel River at PenpoI that I was able to cross because I hit it during low-tide. In fact about 2/3 of the photos just did vanish. ¡Qué angrifying!

But despite these losses, the day was so wonderful that I did tarry to make it last as long as possible before arriving at the digs for the night:

Along the Gannel:

A different yellow flower spread across the dune (or maybe just fields!):

Rocks and beach:

Beach that was to be walked across for one hour:

It was really fun to walk across that beach!

Dunes! Love walking through dunes:

Some things are the same everywhere:

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Location:Perranporth

This image is truly unexceptional except for one thing. Behind that unruly bushy tree is a directional sign. Oh, you do have to have your wits about you every second:

The walk today, was, again not difficult, and it was beautiful, with a dose of dramatic scenery:

Walked across several beaches today. Very much fun. All rivers run to the sea and the sea is never full (which is really something to think about). Granted, you can hardly see the sea (it really is there) and that flowing water is not exactly a river, but still….:

Yellow:

Fistral Beach:

Today’s walk is technically to Newquay, a city you don’t want to go out of your way to visit. Think all of the stores on the Boston Post Road in Milford squished together, add a ton of honky-tonk, the road teaming with people, and you still do not come close. Since it is remarkably awful, one is given the choice to stay a few miles further on in quiet Fistral Beach, which is actually too quiet and mildly depressing for some unclear reason. Supplies should have been purchased in, as the guide book refers to it, the flesh pots of Newquay. But if one did not, one makes do! One can always order a cheese and pickle, as in Branston Pickle, which can be found in the British or Irish section of one’s local Stop and Shop. (The original Nana loved it, by the way, and so do I!) And one will not go hungry.

All was not for naught, however, because, in Newquay, the PHONE issue finally got solved in five minutes and for abut $13.00. I had spent so much time in London and again the other day, and had so much unnecessary aggravation for a phone I may use two times while here, that I was quite discouraged, but surprise! Now All I need is to lose the damn phone! Perish the thought!

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Location:Fistral Beach

Fifteen miles, easy terrain, but tiring walk. Maybe because I neglected to rest on my rest day. Maybe because during the latter half of the walk, the wind was, shall we say, not in the walker’s favor. Hard work, battling that wind.

Just outside Padstow is a series of memorial benches and a field of wild flowers dedicated to the town’s fallen in the First Great War:

Much of the scenery was tame and quiet:

Grasses:

I guess not:

Not a corgi, but kind of looks like Trevor:

A watch tower with a window:

And a door:

Oh, no! Someone else lost HAT:

Sardine Islands. Will build to suit:

Moss covered rocks on the beach at Porthcothan:

Very moss covered:

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Location:Porthcothan

Padstow is a postcard pretty harbour town whose picturesque-ness is best appreciated before 9:00 a.m. and after about 7:00 p.m.

During the day throngs of visitors after pasties—not a misspelling of pastries, rather a Cornish empanada or calzone—crumbly fudge, as opposed to the smooth fudge in Devon (Lynn, you would love it all), fish, seafood, scones, cream teas, and ice cream. The ice cream is excellent. The BEST is Roskilly’s, and I should know because I have sampled several.

There is a little lobster sort of museum where they do lobster research, which only makes sense, Everybody, you must read up on the life and doings of these crustaceans. Did you know, for example, that they shed their skeletons and grow new ones lots of times? And that they can live to 100 years and don’t show signs of aging, but that does not explain why they die, does it? But wait, who ever heard of an arthritic prawn? Or of a whale with dementia? Back to the lobsters…..they are not necessarily “handed” in that which claw is the pincer and which the digger can change. And on it goes.

Not one to spend the day sitting around, I went on a bike ride for 3 1/2 hours on the famed Camel Trail. Very nice! But no photos, as I was on the bike the whole time.

On the way to the B and B some happy petunias

After the bike ride and the Roskilly’s, I went a little crazy dealing with the phone. An agonizing “registering” experience preceded my trying to pay the absurd bill, but their on-line process would not let me pay, and the phone number you call to pay would not phone, and you have to have an automatic debit thing set up with them which you cannot do if you have a bill that needs paying, and you can’t have an automatic debit set-up in any case if you do not have a bank account in England. Don’t even ask how all this happened. All I wanted in the first place was to top off my SIM card. Maybe that is why I had a craving for peanut brittle tonight.

So after the bike ride, the ice cream and the phone, I visited the Prideaux Place, a private estate in Padstow. You were not allowed to take photos inside, which was too bad because there were many photo worthy rooms and fabulous objects within those rooms. You can only visit the home on a tour. Most fortunately the tour guide was very good, but I can never remember any of the historical stuff except that one heir to the place killed himself on the way to his father’s funeral. Apparently, he did not want to take over the manse, which, at the time, was debt ridden. But who knows. The present Prideaux has a thing for teddy bears, and his wife has a thing for frogs, so there are lots of those in one form or another in some of the rooms. It was an hour and a half well spent.

Aside from the house, there were gardens. Think of a chunk of Central Park with a hint of Versailles and you get the picture. Really beautiful and peaceful.

This young man, seated in a corner, must have gotten a thorn in his foot:

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Location:Padstow

What the hype was about this section, I have no idea. There were no cliff edges that made you gulp. The wind was strong, but not blow-you-off-the cliff-strong. There were steep climbs and steep descents and climbs and descents, but they were not endless. A few directional challenges, but I am, at last becoming clever with the GPS, so no 45 minute “detours” to enrich the distance. In fact, I would have been happy to keep going today!! 12 1/2 miles, a pittance.

The water was silver and the sun was shining. It really was:

Often, while I am walking, I think about the making of this path and the many many others in the UK. The planning and design and the physical work to clear mile after mile of ground in difficult terrain just so that people can WALK! Hardly ever do you have to walk on a road. That this particular route hugs the coast line every inch it can is marvelous.

Steps:

Many many steps are held in place by a piece of wood that is anchored at either end by two iron rods. I cannot imagine the digging and measuring, smoothing, hammering to get it right.

Why did I take this picture?

Oh, yes! One passes just under that projection, which does not look as “it is right over your head” as it really is.

A sight:

Looking across towards Rock (that is the name of a town) one sees these strange pits in the middle of people’s lawns:

They are depressed patios so that homeowners can sit outside and bar-B-Q or whatever while the wind is being very windy. Attractive they are not, but function before form.

Red and grey shoal:

Towards the end of the walk, there were so many dogs I cannot tell you. Dogs tripping over dogs. Dogs everywhere. One lady’s dog kept running off. She had this horrible, obnoxious high-pitched whistle that she blew in a certain rhythm, several times, after which she would yell, “Oscar! Oscar!” Then she would blow the bloody whistle again and again, but no Oscar! I think Oscar hated that whistle, and maybe her, too! (Good boy, Oscar! Good boy!)

First ferry ride! From Rock to Padstow, but these folks are going from Padstow to Rock. Such is the way of things:

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Location:Padstow

Billed as short but strenuous, and it was! It is time to stop describing the delights and challenges of the walk because each day is wonderful, so that will be a given unless there is something striking to add like tomorrow is supposed to be the hardest day yet! However, the wind has died down, so maybe fears of being blown off a cliff will not be too consuming.

The Brits take their Sunday roast beef lunches seriously:

Pillar of rock!

I knew he would turn up! Not just any sheep. No! Our very own Wilbur! Isn’t he a fine fellow?

Somewhere through this runs a path:

Port Isaac is a cute little town with lots of shoppes with names like Smiling Sardine and Krazy Crab, in which you want to buy every single goody! I settled for jam.

Geraniums:

Now this fellow is up to mischief!

I am staying at a darling Hotel/B and B called the Old Schoolhouse. All the rooms are named after academic disciplines. I am in:

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Location:Port Isaac

From grey water to blue also means from rain to sun. Yeay! Started out rainy and blustery, but the sky lightened and blustery decreased to plain windy, and not too much cliff edge stuff! But many stiff climbs. Although the mileage was less than 13, it was enough! Not yet, at the end of a day, have I felt the urge to say, “Bring it on!”. It’s more like, “I am so ready for a cup of tea!”

Took and threw out a bunch of photos. Most of the scenic shots just don’t capture the drama. But here is a nice variation of a stile:

Speaking of stones, which I didn’t but which that stile is, here are some samples of dry wall (is that what it is called?). construction in the vertical mode:

And here, the more conventional horizontal:

And here, an almost parquet-looking design:

All of them are marvels.

And now staying within the world of similarities and differences, consider this alcachofa con escargot:

and this one con flores:

OK, for the kiddies! Where is the bee? Do you see the bee?

In Boscastle, a town on the way, was a museum of witchcraft and magic. Intriguing! Worth an hour?

Ahhh, no!

Oh, look! The piece of cliff that got away!

The thrill of the day was the Valley of the Rocks. It was really rocky! What added to the stunningness was that the way down and the way up were also magnificent:

Who goes through and who does not go through? She who fits goes through:

I knew the legendary King Arthur’s Castle was waiting in Tintagel, which was one reason I passed on the earlier museum. Not much of the old place left, for sure, but daunting! Both the structure and the setting. It had, what can I say, “a feel” to it:

Not much left of King A either!

Doesn’t that sculpture remind you of the scene in Amadeus wherein Mozart is composing his Requiem and the Grim Reaper comes to the door?

And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, show me thy chink to blink through with mine eyne. (A Midsummer Night’s Dream)

Since one hardly ever gets to use the word “chink,” it was exciting to have the perfect occasion at the ruins.

THIS is Merlin’s Cave! At least Tennyson thought so, which is what counts.

It was even more thrilling to go down to the beach and walk through the cave and around the rock formations than to see the ruins above. The immensity of it all!

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Location:Tintagel

Bude was a good place to restock supplies. And guess what I found? Peanut better is squeeze packs and it is really good! Small things can make a person happy!

Boats in the harbor at Bude early in the morning:

You want to take a photo of the coast every five minutes, so dramatic and gorgeous is it, but you can’t, so I’ll try to limit them to one a day. (I hope the click to enlarge thing works.)

A fat frog (toad?) frolicking:

Truly, this is not an improvement:

This is HAT that was lost until I retraced my steps up a huge hill to find it.

Lesson learned: If you are not wearing HAT, but want to have it handy, do not stick it under the shoulder strap of your pack unless you tie the chin strap to said pack. HAT does not like to be carried that way.

This hardy Welshman—to raise money for cancer— is walking from Land’s End to John O Groats, the northern tip of Scotland, some 1111 miles! He is CAMPING!

Don’t know if you can make out the path near the top snaking down the far cliff:

But it was one of a few hairy descents today. The wind was ferocious and blowing across a point, as in land formation, from both directions. I was relieved to get passed that bit. And relieved, also, that no one was behind me because hurry I wouldn’t and move over I couldn’t! The worst is when you think you are walking to the edge of a cliff (because you are) and you cannot see a path beyond the edge, but of course, it is twisting around just before you are ready to plotz or cry.

A pleasing combination of colours:

Parking lots are ugly where ever they are, even in the town-let with the cute name of Crackington Haven.

Crackington Haven is a one inn town, rooms over a bar/restaurant, type of place. My room is nice and big—thanks, Damon—although I don’t know what is with the plumbing in these parts, because again the fixtures are falling apart‚ but back to the establishment: it has, alas, gone to rack and ruin or is that wrack and ruin?

Oh, that parking lot hosts two cafes, one on either side of it. And now you know about the entire economic life of Crackington Haven.

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Location:Crackington Haven