Heading to Home Country

I couldn’t find anywhere to lay my sleeping bag on Saturday night and wandered along the path in the semi-dark and then had to get my head lamp out. Eventually I plunged into the thick bracken and waded 5 yards from the path and laid down in my bag. The bracken was level but the land was sloping and all night I was slipping downhill. I got precious little sleep, or at least it felt like it. Judging the time between wakings by the position of the moon. The sea was crashing against the cliff just beyond the path and all was ok except for the sodding slope.

Set off early yesterday and the warm wind was blowing quite strongly. At Portholland the sea was bashing against the concrete defences.

Further on is Caerhays Castle, nestling in its own valley surrounded by fields, forests and pheasants.

It was a long slog again and much more climbing and falling than in recent times, eventually working round to Gorran Haven where I had a great ham salad and two pots of tea. Heavenly.

Cracking on I made it to Mevagissey, which is such a lovely little harbour plagued by tourists but a bit freer at this time of year.

I ended up yesterday afternoon at Pentewan Sands Holiday Park. I pitched Wilson, got a shower and the first person I spoke to was Sean Hancock from Wyvern. A Blade with a Blade tattoo on the right of his chest. Coincidence features so much in Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse novels and he handles it so elegantly. Another 12 miles under my belt and the shoulder hurts but has held up. Just take one day at a time Smithy. Aiming for just short of Fowey if I can make it tomorrow. Fleet of foot before the wind and rain of Autumn kicks in. Looe by Wednesday and Plymouth Friday.
Grinding out the miles singing into the warm breeze with moments of euphoria and periods of pain.
– Shiny shiny, shiny boots of leather.
– The needle tears a hole, that old familiar sting.
Velvets and Johnny Cash ( who was one of the few singers to get much better with age).
Blog you later.