the cliffs – 10 Aug, 2018
Day 8 Land’s End to John O’Groats – Tintagel to Bude
Distance: 33km
Cumulative distance: 206km
Well. The trail got one back on me today. Thank God I’ve booked in for two nights at Bude, and can give myself a rest day tomorrow!
There was more rain overnight so my tent was pretty soggy when I packed up this morning, but I managed to find a break in the rain during which to do so. I went and checked out Tintagel Castle on the way out, which is why this part of the world is so famous. Legend has it King Arthur was conceived here, which is kind of random, but the visitors flock every year for a look and the town gets fairly busy during the summer months. The castle itself is pretty cool, it’s on its own little headland jutting out from the mainland and you can see a lot of the ruined building on the clifftop as you walk past. It certainly would’ve been a hard thing to attack.
That conglomeration of rocks up there is Tintagel Castle from a slightly different angle
Given the rain that was about I was wearing my waterproofs for the first time, which meant less weight in my pack and allowed my sleeping bag to fit inside. The rain was on and off for the first hour or so before it eventually cleared up which was a welcome relief, and I was on my way. The first obstacle was this section called Rocky Valley which for all intents and purposes was just another river crossing with a steep descent and a steep ascent to follow. There were some cool rocks down there but not too much else to distinguish it from what had come before. I had hoped for a moment that once I emerged at the top of the steps out of the valley that I would be at the Philadelphia Art Museum, but it wasn’t to be.
The first stop was Boscastle where I had another pasty, and spoke to Mum and Dad, and Mel on the phone. There was a Museum of Witchcraft and Magic in this funky little town, but I didn’t explore it. I’d started a little late because of the rain and by the time I’d finished eating and started up again it was already 12.30pm and there were a lot of miles in front of me. I started to realise I’d managed to misjudge just how many when I’d booked my two nights at the hostel in Bude. I should mention at this stage that I was up to my third ordinance survey map which is kind of cool. It actually feels like I’m making some progress, although whenever I zoom out too far on Google Maps I soon realise I’ve covered but a speck of this land.
Shit got pretty real out of Boscastle. Over the next 10 miles or so I lost count of the damn river crossings and cliffs I had to climb. Despite the challenges each crossing provides, it’s impossible not to marvel at the power of water and its ability to erode over millions of years. Some of these rivers are barely a foot wide when I get down to cross them, yet they’ve still managed to carve a passage through the landscape. There was a sign out of Boscastle saying five and a quarter miles to Crackington so that was my next logical stop. Between me though were the largest obstacles yet. First up was Beeny Cliff, completely without warning. I’d just staggered down to the bottom and the path before me started clawing up, and up and it just never stopped. It was the longest sustained uphill I’d had so far and every time I looked up the cliff kept towering over me. It sharpened up even further at the top but I eventually made it and had a quick breather as the sweat poured off me. The views were magnificent, until I noticed a sign that said High Cliff, one mile. This concerned me. Almost immediately the path started descending, it doubled back on itself a few times, and off in the distance loomed the next lump of land standing in my way. At 223m this was the highest point on the Coast Path in Cornwall. I passed a couple of middle aged ladies and attacked the steep staircase up the other side. I was at that one for a long time, some of those steps were easily a foot high and the gradient was absolutely ridiculous. It just kept going and going and there was nothing left in the tank for the last 50m or so. It’s incredible, though, how quickly you manage to automatically refuel once you get to the top. This is how the entire day proceeded. Even the last three quarters of a mile into Crackington managed to squeeze in another down and up, and then down again into town. I had a smoothie and looked at my maps. Bude still seemed a million miles away – I had spotted it earlier on far off in the distance. The coastline Bude is on runs due north, whereas I’d started out heading more east from Tintagel. It meant I could see almost everything I needed to traverse before I made it to the hostel, and the fact none of it seemed to be getting much closer was demoralising.
I still had about 10 miles or so between me and Bude so I hopped to it, taking care of the sadistic climb out of Crackington. There were more river crossings as I went and I ran into a couple on their way to Boscastle who told me the path soon evened out. Thankfully it did, I passed over a lot of farmland and inadvertently herded a bunch of cattle at one point. Then I had to descend into some bollocks little village called Millook (no offence Millook) which I hadn’t even spotted on the map, and the last quarter mile of that was nightmareishly steep and damaging to my knees. Then I had to climb back out the other side which was just as tough. At Wanson Mouth I found the road and followed it for a couple of miles into Widemouth Bay where I found a picnic bench on the beach and collapsed into its clutches. Bude was still a few miles away but I perked up now that I could see I was reeling it in. I followed the trail up one more long hill, then found my way into town via an old church, and ultimately to my hostel via some directions found in the post office. The one last thing I will say about today was that I spotted the Isle of Lundy for the first time which was pretty exciting, given it’s at the mouth of the Bristol Channel. I first came across the Isle of Lundy in that sea shanty Jamboree Whip, a superb song I must say. Day off tomorrow!
