the decision – 6 Aug, 2018
Day 4 Land’s End to John O’Groats – Chapel Porth to Newquay
Distance: 22km
Cumulative distance: 93km
I started off with a two-day plan this morning, and that was to walk around to Crantock, and then on to Newquay tomorrow which would give me a half day to catch up on laundry, shopping etc. I could have easily walked straight to Newquay in even quicker time, but that would have meant crossing the River Gannel in a ferry and I’d resolved in the back of my mind to not use any mechanical assistance whatsoever on this walk. Even if it meant walking several miles inland and then being forced to backtrack on the opposite bank. There was a campground (and a pub) at Crantock so that looked good enough to me.
Anyway, feeling rather refreshed after my quieter day I was fairly sprightly on setting off and stormed on down to the coast path where I’d left it the night before. That took me past a little place called Wheal Coates which was another example of old mining buildings which had long fallen into disrepair and then ruin. These were perched on a hill overlooking the coastline, and the stone structures were rather striking. But I was in no mood for dallying, so I charged on by and headed on to St Agnes Head which marked another change of direction in the coastline. There were a heap of birds flying around too against the overcast sky, kittiwakes, according to the guidebook, who have colonised the Head. Further along I looked over the edge and saw a bloke reeling in a fish. I hung about a little while to see what he’d fetched, and unfortunately for him and his prey it was a seagull, or perhaps a kittiwake. I left him to disentangling the bird from his hook and pressed on.
Trevaunance was the next little town I passed through, and after descending steeply as per normal, I climbed back out through a delightful garden. After a few more of the usual up and down climbs, I made it to Perranporth where I inhaled an ice cream milkshake. There was no sea mist today which allowed me a much clearer view down the coastline, and I could see all the way back to St Ives which provided a real sense of achievement given it looked so far away, and it was only a few days ago I’d passed through. In the other direction the coastline stretched on seemingly forever, so I started breaking it off into little sections, trying to conquer a headland at a time without getting too far ahead of myself. First off I needed to escape Perranporth, and I began that operation by whisking off my boots and walking along a crowded beach. The boots came back on for another sketchy sand dune section (the beginning of a vast expanse known as Penhale Sands which includes a military training area among its many acres) and then I kept my hikers on as I strode back down to the beach and walked adjacent to the water line. For once here was a Cornish beach which was virtually deserted, so I strode out freely through the kilometres ahead passing only a handful of folk. Maybe this beach was just a fraction too far out of town, maybe the waves were too choppy, or maybe the threat of high tide was enough to keep most swimmers away. I finally crossed the entire beach, and powered back up a steep cliff to land at a delightful lunch spot looking back over the footprints I’d just left in the sand. Another fisherman came over to say hi, on his way home after a decent session stocking up on mackerel.
I had a bit of a think over lunch. Maybe I should just bite the bullet and take the damn ferry across the river? There will be other instances like this throughout the walk and I only have a finite window in which to complete it, roughly 80 days if I make it that far. It would certainly save my legs and the rest of my body a bit of grief – it had been through its share of work already and no doubt there was plenty more to come. But every time I formed a decent argument, that little nagging voice in the back of my head would override. “You’re only cheating yourself,” it would start, “The whole point is to WALK across the UK, not walk, ferry, hitchhike etc. I’m afraid I can’t allow this.” So that was that. I’d try justify it by saying I was a traditionalist, a purist, someone in that one per cent category who would walk the extra miles to shun mechanical assistance just because. There really is no reason to justify not taking the ferry. But that was all bollocks really – turns out I’m just a stubborn old mule who won’t be budged on such decisions. And that was that. Case closed.
I finished lunch, walked around another stunning headland then looked down on Holywell before embarking on the descent into town. There was another busy beach, and in behind that another section of punishing sand dunes. Damn! Excellent for working those quads and glutes and hammys, but not so useful in the discouragement of blisters. Following the dunes I walked uphill and found myself crossing a stretch called the Kelseys, a beautiful bald hill in stark contrast to most of the clifftop walking I’d been doing. It was a nice change and provided a decent energy boost, particularly when Newquay started coming into view. Crantock wasn’t too far away. As I worked my way down into town a touring party wanted to take a photo with me, and I obliged. Soon after I took a look over to the Gannel and realised it wasn’t the great Amazonian obstacle I’d taken it to be. In fact it seemed barely 10m across at some points, and I didn’t even see a ferry. I saw a footbridge leading over to a café, although the path on the other side wasn’t clear and I suspected there might not be access to the town beyond the café. I’m sure I was wrong. But I realised that this thing was maybe passable, and soon after I came to a sign suggest that three quarters of a mile upstream there was another footbridge I could use to get across this thing, well before Crantock. And there was. All I had to do was drop down below onto the sand, jump over a few little tributaries and power over the bridge. Just like that I was on the right side of the river for Newquay. A rare win for my body. Within half an hour I’d found a hostel, and I can happily reveal that I ate two main courses that night with my pint of beer. And I had a six-person dorm all to myself, as it turned out.
