Portloe to Gorran Haven – Perambulation with Pals

After a vegetarian breakfast, which included eggs, we shouldered our respective ruckies and set off down a country lane and permissive path to Portloe. Our arrival over a stile excited a field of bullocks, who chased us back to where we’d come from. We looked for an alternative bullfree path, couldn’t find one so I rather bravely climbed back over the stile and shooed the cattle away. Nearly cacked meself.

Portloe wasn’t far beyond, and almost immediately the path started to climb and fall.

Colin seemed fit and comfortably managed the path with his rucksack but Sandra, who wasn’t so fit, began to struggle with the unusual intensity of yomping up hill and down dale. The effort involved jellied her legs and she lost balance a couple of times, falling safely on the grassy inland side of the path, rather than the rocky drop to certain death.

I’ll claim you next time Lyons.

Nevertheless, either through stubbornness or inner strength, she got up and carried on. I thought this would end in us reaching a road and trying to find a phone signal to hail a cab, but I was wrong. She might have gone down but she wasn’t out.

The views were lovelier at each turn.

We tried to reduce the severity of the inclines and declines of the coast path by walking higher up the cliffs, but this just resulted in us taking a much longer route. So we dropped back down to the sea, and back up, then down. Then up.

We were heading for Gorran Haven today, where we would get a bus to Mevagissey. Progress was slow and painful, past East Portholland, up over the cliffs again and down to Caerhays Castle.

We were in danger of missing the last bus to Mevagissey. The last train to Clarkesville etc etc. When the opportunity presented itself we cut through a farm on a public footpath, taking a chance that we might be grabbed by the bullocks again. Smutty innuendo is the nature of my game.

How fantastic are the views?

At last Gorran Haven crept upon us and we found the bus stop in time to grab a lager in the local. The bus took us within a couple of miles of Meva, where we alighted and found a local campsite.

Tent up sir! Tarp up sir! Quick march down the long lane to Meva, Mevagissey, King of the Wild Frontier! Well, flower of the Cornish coast at least.

We enviously offloaded Lyons’ gear in her Airbnb bijou apartment next to the quayside. Not for me and Col these airs and graces. We’re kids under canvas. But it did look nice.

So did the scallops and fish pies that we had for dinner before leaving Lyons to the magnificence of Meva, and making our way a mile and a half uphill back to camp.

We’d covered over 12 miles, plus the trek back to camp for me and Col. Good effort over difficult paths.

Night night.