the tarka trail – 14 aug, 2018
Day 11 Land’s End to John O’Groats – Westacott Farm to Barnstaple
Distance: 22km
Cumulative distance: 272km
The first thing I did last night upon discovering my Thermarest had been shredded by a blackberry bush was try to patch it up. The tape in my first aid kit proved useless for this purpose, so I went and bought some duct tape from the little shop at the campground, but this too was no good. I resigned myself to a pretty bumpy night’s sleep and went for a shower. As I was walking back to my tent I started chatting to Nicky aka the Angel from Nottingham, and told her all about the walk I was doing and the developments of an eventful day. She was super friendly, and set up in the large tent next to mine with her four kids, Ali, Izzy, Jack and Sam.
I’d just started cooking up my noodles when Nicky’s youngest appeared at my tent and invited me over for a burger. I told him I’d be over in a jiffy once I’d polished off my noodles, and two minutes later he was back to hand me a bottle of cider. I went over to the tent and had a magnificent evening – I played chess with Ali, played endless games of bocce with Jack and Sam and chatted to Nicky, Izzy and Ali about our travels and the forthcoming year at school. They cooked me up a delightful burger, and I dried my sleeping bag out near their fire as Jack and Sam took turns in beating me at bocce. It was such a great night, and I was winding down for bed, Nicky’s son (either Jack or Sam) came back to my tent with a blue sleeping mat in his hand, telling me I could use it because it was a spare and they didn’t need it. Once again, the kindness of absolute strangers has been one of the highlights so far on this trip.
And how’s this. The next morning as I was packing up, the young fella was back again telling me I could keep the sleeping mat. I couldn’t believe it! I went over to thank Nicky who told me it was a spare and they had no use for it, and that I might as well take it. I was almost lost for words. What a beautiful family. As I was walking out of the campsite I chatted to a cyclist and his son, who informed me they’d be riding the Tarka Trail today, which is what I planned on walking to get me from Bideford to Barnstaple. I was actually quite excited by the prospect – I’d decided to get off the Coast Path to skip the Ilfracombe Peninsula and save a few days – and the Tarka Trail looked an incredibly well trodden and waymarked path which I could follow for most of the day.
I took roads into Bideford, then hung around town for a little bit checking out the market, doing a bit of shopping and tucking into a cream tea. I made sure to put my cream on before my jam, as is customary in Devon. Then I was off across the bridge over the River Torridge (another one of those River Camel type waterways which you can’t actually cross anywhere near the mouth unless you’re Ian Thorpe) and onto the Tarka Trail. What a relief it was to be on this thing instead of the Coast Path. It was wide, paved, and not hilly at all which is what I needed at this point given the blisters I’d been slowly but surely cultivating on my left foot. The Tarka Trail loops around North Devon in a figure eight pattern, and the section I was on took me through a couple of nice towns and was for the most part as straight as an arrow. I followed the Torridge downstream for a long while, and eventually came to Instow where I had lunch. Just out of town I strolled past the North Devon Cricket Club, situated just near the water where the River Taw flows into the River Torridge. Soon after that I went straight past my mate and his son from the campsite who were cycling in the other direction! Goodness me, I was starting to feel like a bit of a local.
Unfortunately those blisters on my left foot had really started to flare up. My right foot was almost free of trouble (although that would eventually change) but I had a stack on my left. Every toe had at least one, and while some had callused up by this stage, my pinky was in a world of trouble. I also had one causing me a bit of grief on the back of my heel and one on the inside of my heel which was quite large and had the potential to be the worst of the lot. There was one on the ball of my big toe too which was another one with potential to be a real bugger. I listened to a few Richmond podcasts which cheered me up very quickly and pushed past some salty marshland onto Barnstaple, where I decided on a whim to duck into the library. The campsite I was aiming for was only a few more miles out of town, up past the hospital and then up a winding hill to a delightful farm where the proprietor was delighted to be hosting an Antipodean. Once I’d pitched up I set to work on treating those blisters. I decided to slice a few open and treat them with some antiseptic wipes out of my first aid kit, but to leave them exposed to the air overnight. It seemed to work pretty well, they felt a bit better in the morning and I only felt the need to patch up the one on my inside heel, and the one on my left pinky toe. They can be tricky to deal with blisters – they usually rear up in the first week or so, and then it’s just a matter of management to avoid infection before they callus up. Once they turn into calluses you’re pretty much good as gold because the skin becomes tough enough to handle the friction being caused by your boots. They tend to flare up again and pop up in different places when you change boots though, as I was about to find out.
