Well we finished yesterday off at St Just and had an early, tired dinner and a decent night’s kip. Set off for Cape Cornwall at 8 this morning and it took Andrew less than 20 minutes to sink half way up his shins in slurry. For those unfamiliar with the term ‘slurry’ it means cow dung that farmers leave hanging around for some reason until it becomes liquid like dark treacle but it doesn’t smell like that. It smells like cow crap gone off. And so do Andrews’ feet.

Yesterday was a slog, and it was warm and sticky. I got bad chafing, it’s like an Italian Cook clinically grabbing hold of your dangly bits and using one of those industrial type Parmesan graters down both sides. It hurt. I put some antiseptic cream on when I got back to Wilson and that was painful too.

The stretch from St Ives to Zennor is one of the most difficult due to the obstacle course created by boulders strewn all over what would otherwise have been a path. But it is beautiful and the next section, Zennor to Cape Cornwall is just as tough, longer as well, but more beautiful in places with the exception of the tin mine workings which are splattered across lovely scenery like an industrial defecation. There are holes in the ground off the path that are not easily spotted and drop down hundreds of feet. This has given the coastline world heritage status. Stupid because it’s ugly.

Today’s walk was from Cape Cornwall to Porthcurno via Lands End. There are some amazing sections down to Lands End.

However beyond Lands End the scenery moves into a different league. Unbelievable some of it.

Elves are alive and well and living in remotest Cornwall, which isn’t remote at all.
My article made it into Sheffield Star on 5 August and it was alright.

Bloody paparazzi, I suppose they’ll eventually lose interest but they’ve been after me ever since the Ash Cloud incident. I’m a media magnet I guess but they do make life inconvenient on occasions.

We had a lovely weekend in Looe. Maggie went back on Tuesday and Andrew Mander joined me to continue the trek. On Monday we strolled round Fowey and ate lunch at Sarah Brewster’s favourite seafood place – Sams on the Beach at Polkerris.

Couldn’t resist this shot of the bakers.

SAMs is an unassuming converted life boathouse.

Walking round Fowey I wore my waterproof and Maggie pointed out that there was a slug on it! Been there since the night of the slugs the previous Thursday. He is no more.

Bloke in North Devon gave me and Antonia a lift to the campsite and told us that he’d lived in this wooded valley by the sea for 17 years and seen a full sized Panther on his back lawn three times in that period. The empty wine bottles in his footwell indicated that it might not be as big as suggested!

Danny from South Yorkshire on the St Ives campsite said his missus worked behind a bar and had been attacked in the pub. Her brother from New Zealand had brought over a Taser in his hold luggage for her to keep for self-defence. Apparently the brother had tried it on his own leg which had flown up in the air involuntarily like Michael Flattley on speed and he’d pooed himself. I found this very funny.

Anyway, setting off from Zennor soon for today’s slog. So back to the proof that elves are alive and well – scrawl down to the photograph below.

Well I don’t need a rest because my feet are well up for action and my muscles are fine. However it’s nice to see our old lass and we’ve got today (Sunday) and tomorrow before our lass goes back to Leeds and I go back to St Ives on Tuesday, dropping the hire car off in Penzance and meeting Andrew Mander there for the next phase of the walk. Lands End and all the extreme westerly bits will be fascinating. The car’s been good; a Fiat 500 but with a lot of space.

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I’m going mussel picking this afternoon, hopefully get some little clams too for spaghetti marinara tonight. I’ll let you know how I get on.

Back again, got a load of mussels and gave half to the neighbours who loved them but we didn’t think they were that good. No R in the month, well there is today I know but we ate them yesterday didn’t we! No I don’t think there would be a miraculous change overnight but all I’m saying is that they weren’t that good. I picked a load from the same spot with my mate Frances Carrere in May and we cooked them on a bonfire on the beach and they tasted like an angel crying on your tongue. No I haven’t had an angel crying on my tongue but it’s just a phrase and no there isn’t an R in May and no I don’t want to carry on with this debate.

For all you Wednesday fans here’s a photo.

On the road again tomorrow. Blog you then.