We needed to move campsite. The walks were getting out of our bus range. So we upped tents this morning, before the first sparrow even had time to rattle out a Donald.

We drove over to Porthleven on the Lizard Peninsula, from where we could more effectively co-ordinate our logistical approach to the next few days. Oooh, get him. Logistical doo dahs and all that!

We put the pop up tents up at Mill Lane Campsite and walked down to the village to get a bus to Penzance. And we did get one, next to the port.

In Penzance we had one of the best breakfasts in the western hemisphere and then set off round the coast towards Marazion, sporting our RNLI shirts and flags. We collected more money for the cause. The respect for the lifeboat volunteers is immense down here. The people know that they risk their lives to save others. Unpaid.

St Michael’s Mount was empirical in the morning sun.

We were having a gas.

Who would want to fire a cannon at St Michael’s Mount? The bloody French!

Sorry Chantal. Only kidding!

We met a couple coming in the opposite direction who were raising money for the RNLI! They set off a year ago and were 11 days away from completing a 6,000 mile walk of the UK coastline. Unbelievable.

Praa Sands was a proper Cornish resort. We observed its propriety by drinking cider there on our route.

This was a long walk for us. Around 14 miles. But we are up for it and we have a positive attitude and the weather is so much in our favour, with sun and cooling wind.

Our first view of Porthleven came around the next corner.

We came back into a small area of tin mining activity.

It was a great walk and we could anticipate the end when we saw the harbour open up.

We arrived at the Ship Inn, had a pint of cider and a couple passing by spotted our RNLI gear. They bought us some more cider for our endeavours. How kind. Thank you.

A very good day’s walking with my mate.

Night night.

At Sparrow’s Fart we got up and drove to Porthcurno on the Channel coast, parking the car up there and walking around the thin red line, although it was on land and not in the sea like my fingernail traced it!

Halfway to Mousehole is Lamorna Cove and we were aiming for breakfast there. The weather started clear and chilly, but it was dry. That’s the main thing. Then the plan was to get a bus back from Penzance to pick the car up and drive back to the tents.

David has a dangling Elvis on his dashboard and a leopard skin steering wheel cover. How cool is that? It’s so lovable that you don’t want to leave the car. But we did.

Anyway, this is a stunning part of the coast path. I know I keep saying that but it all is.

The path climbs out of Porthcurno and down to the sea and up to the cliffs and down…. etc etc.

We woke two wild horses sleeping on the bluebells. Sorry kids!

It was a very difficult section of path, including a section where you have to jump from boulder to boulder. Thank goodness we didn’t have rucksacks on.

What we thought was a quick couple of hours to Lamorna became more and more difficult. More lovely too,

It took us nearly four hours to reach Lamorna. We were hungry, tired and stroked by what had become a hot day. We lost the path for a while and ended up inland about a mile from the coast. I got worried somewhat. Oooh, somewhat is it? Yep! I got worried that there wasn’t anywhere open for breakfast, or anything else resembling refreshment.

Then we found a cafe down by the sea at the end of the road. No breakfast but pasties, coffee, treacle cake and clotted cream. Enough calories to keep us old buzzards on track.

The path got a bit Lord of the Ringsy.

Then a moment of sad and quiet reflection. Whilst David is with me we are raising money for the RNLI. I dropped down to a memorial area and it was the part of the coast where the Penlee lifeboat turned out in horrific weather on the 19th December 1981, for a stricken cargo vessel. It looks so idyllic now that it’s hard to imagine the terrible conditions of that night.

The Union Star vessel grounded with the loss of all 8 crew and passengers on board. All 8 members of the Penlee lifeboat crew perished trying to save them.

We’re so glad that we’re raising money for the RNLI.

We passed a very exotic estate on the way to Mousehole. The path was calming down. It was becoming easier to negotiate.

Mousehole was a pretty village, leading on to Newlyn, a massive fishing port by UK standards, and Penzance.

We passed the site of the old Penlee lifeboat station. A lot of sad history now locked inside the empty boathouse.

Then we got our RNLI flags, collection box and shirts on clear display.

Talking to people on the way into Penzance we collected a lot of donations. There is immense feeling for their role, history and continuing purpose.

Returning to Porthcurno we collected the car, bought some scran and went back to our lovely site at Kelynack for a barbecue of burgers and sweet peppers.

A great day.

Night night.

But before we go there, here are some of David Kilby’s shots from yesterday! Hooray! All of me! Hooray!

Today we started out early from our campsite, around 7.45am, walking down to the coast path and turning left towards Lands End. Good, dry weather, if a little chilly. Across the valley was a genuine and ancient stone circle.

How rich in history is this land.

We were aiming for Sennen Cove, five miles away, for breakfast. But the views were distracting and delightful.

By the time we got there the cafe was full and we would have had to wait a while, so we carried on to Lands End.

Then we looked around the tourist centre, hunting for breakfast, and had to settle for coffee and pasties. A great alternative to the full Cornish, as it turned out.

From Lands End we were heading down to Porthgwarra and on to Porthcurno, shifting round from the Celtic Sea to the English Channel. The views on the way were absolutely fabulous.

We were blessed with great, great weather and very few other walkers on the coast path. Around every corner was a fabulous view. Just about so beautiful that it was a coastline beyond belief.

We meandered down to Porthgwarra, at the start of the Channel, which is a tiny hamlet that Susie and Pete, Maggie’s sister and BiL, stay in each year. Fabulous spot,

Then we headed up the Channel, eastwards, towards Porthcurno. The path wasn’t too difficult, but it was a long walk, even without rucksacks. Finally we found St Levan’s Well. Thank Christ for that as we didn’t even know he was badly.

It’s all too beautiful. Thanks Steve.

Then we caught the bus from Porthcurno to St Just, had fish pie in the Commercial Inn and then walked back to the tents for an early night.

What a great day.

Night night.

Thanks Paul. I didn’t today. David Kilby knocked on my tent door at 8am and we walked up to St Just with minimal back pack stuff. We had to return to Zennor, where David picked me up yesterday, and hopefully walk back here to Kelynack. A long schlep but being freed from heavy rucksacks we could cover this.

The morning was warmer. I had slept very well in my pop up tent and I was ready to rock and roll. We walked back into St Just. The first bus to Zennor was 10.38am and we decided to have breakfast at the Commercial Inn in St Just. Great full Cornish scran!

David set up a JustGiving page for the RNLI for this stage of our walk and was wearing his RNLI vest.

I’m walking with David in support of the Lifeboat Association for the next ten days. The people who risk their own lives without pay to save the lives of others. At all hours of the day, in all seasons, in all weather with selfless commitment. These brave few. This band of brothers and sisters, deserve our support.

Please feel free to donate to the RNLI through our website. I know I have been walking in aid of Prostate Cancer UK but if you haven’t donated to that cause then please contribute to the RNLI. I am exclusively supporting them with David whilst we are walking together around the south west of England. The link is below.

https://www.justgiving.com/page/david-kilby-1713340058267

After breakfast we caught the bus to Zennor, got off at The Gurnard’s Head, and headed down a footpath to the coast.

One of the problems is that this trek goes through so much stunningly beautiful country that you become accustomed to it and expect it.

This headland, from a certain angle (but not this one!), looks like a Gurnard’s head. That’s what it’s called. From whatever angle it’s the dog’s in this weather!

The path had become a roller-coaster again. And when we were up we were up…..

But then we went back down again.

We did make good time but the day was drifting on and we needed to push it a bit. Fortunately there were a few areas where it was flatter and we could up our pace. Then looking back was brilliant. I can’t even see the climbers on these rocks opposite.

Looking forward we could just see the Pendeen lighthouse half-hidden behind the cliff’s shoulder.

When we reached it the view beyond the lighthouse was very industrial, with lots of chimneys and hundreds of mineshafts, many of which are uncapped.

Going underground? Thanks Paul.

Finally we made it to within sight of Cape Cornwall, where we were to head inland back to St Just and the campsite.

So we did. To our lovely tents!

David Kilby knocked on my tent door at 07.15, and we drove down to Penzance on our day off. We’d hoped to go out on a boat fishing in three days time but the company had contacted me last night to say we might not get out then due to the weather forecast. They said today would be ok, so we agreed.

What a day we had, catching loads of fish in the morning and having a barbecue back at the campsite all afternoon.

We ate for England, a huge amount of fish and jacket potatoes. Ready for recommencing our trek tomorrow. Lands End or bust!

Night night.

I hadn’t taken my clothes off for three days, even in my sleeping bag. I was beginning to whiff a bit, as you could well imagine. So this morning I packed up the tarp early, after a broken night’s sleep, and went up to the shower block.

It was hot and delightful and I turned myself clean with liberally applied shower gel. I released anti-perspirant on my sweat zones. In fact I feel good, so good. Thanks James.

It was overcast when I set off from the site down to the coast path and turned right, back in to St Ives.

It is a nice town but last night, on my way in, there were a lot of people who detracted from the place. It was a bit like walking through inner city Leeds, but not as big. Dodgy buggers.

This morning it was lovely. and the sky cleared a bit as I walked along the harbour.

Stopping at a Cafe I ordered a Flat White with aplomb and a big bloomer breakfast. I’m becoming a latter day bloke. Wow, was it good! Well yes it was.

Then back to the walk.

After a half mile the view back was great, with a clearer sky.

It was similar to a lot of North Cornwall, with inaccessible, beautiful beaches that only folk in boats can enjoy.

The route round to Zennor was less than 8 miles. Sillily, I thought that it would be easier than it turned out to be. But it was more spectacular than I thought, than I remembered from 10 years ago when I was a young lad.

I love these playful clouds in a line along the north coast.

It was so clear that I could see way further up the coast, beyond Bude, and incredibly there, resting on the horizon, was the Island of Lundy. I could only see it when I was high up on the cliffs, the earth’s curvature slipping it behind the horizon when the path dropped down towards sea level. Lundy must be 60 miles away. Incredible!

Further round the coast was a stone circle on the cliff top. It looks a bit contrived and more recent than Stone Age. Interesting though.

The path began to get a bit wilder. Boulders blocking a clear pathway and having to scramble up the hills, which got harder to scale. But the difficulty of the path was matched by the amazing scenery. I’m running out of superlatives.

There were more warnings about open mine shafts, hidden in the undergrowth, and the pale line of rock running along this coast line showed how molten minerals were pumped up to the earth’s surface. And tilted with time.

I was getting tired now. My rucksack restricting my movement over the boulder fields and my previous few days’ efforts taking a bit of a toll. My mate David Kilby was driving down to join me and I went into Zennor to use the Wi-Fi of The Tinners to call him. We arranged to meet at the Gurnard’s Head, two miles away, and I legged it along the road to meet him there.

It was a pleasant reunion with my Everest partner and we drove round to St Just, where we were camping at Kelynack campsite. David produced two pop up tents, which we popped up.

Then we walked back over the hill to St Just, enjoyed a few drinks and a decent pub meal, then returned to our pop ups.

And hunkered down for the night. Will I sleep better in a tent than under me tarp? Let’s find out.

Night night.

What have you put that for?

Well, I thought it was super and I’m superannuated.

What, you’re a pension scheme or summat?

No dear, the definition is ‘outdated or obsolete through age or new developments’. If that isn’t me then I can’t imagine who it would be. Both outdated and obsolete, as a member of society and with no value to the community whatsoever. I’m crap.

Again I’d had to come quite far inland for a campsite but it was just a couple of miles to the sea.

A delightful cafe perched here at Hell’s Mouth, staffed by young, enthusiastic kids. And the breakfast was the dog’s doo dahs.

Then down and around the cliffs to Godrevy. On to the beach where Maggie’s sister Susie and her husband Pete come down on holiday. Lovely area.

At the end of this beach is Hayle, just 6 miles from St Ives where I’ll pitch my tarp. I can see St Ives and it’s so close. But a long way around the bay.

The last time I walked this route the area here was grassy marshland. With this very high tide everything was under water.

What more can I say? I was just walking. That’s all I do. It isn’t remarkably interesting, but some of my views are. Like this Crimean War siege mortar.

I grabbed a cheese sandwich from a Spar in Carbis Bay and then when I put my foot down, and rounded a corner, I saw my destination. St Ives.

Foot further down and I made it up to the campsite up the hill, grabbing a small tray of mashed potato from Spar on the way.

Looking down on to the back of the town from the campsite was stunning as the sun went down.

I’m going down too, after I’ve eaten my mash cold with a spoon. Heavenly.

213 miles done, 398 to go. Hooray!

Night night.

What do you mean ‘No walks are short’?

Sorry. I couldn’t think of owt else to write.

Well don’t write anything else then, just put Perranporth to Tehidy.

OK.

Perranporth to Tehidy – A Right Long Bastard of a Walk

From the campsite I could almost touch St Agnes, but there was a deep valley, covered in gorse, between us. So St Agnes had to wait whilst I walked back towards Perranporth, and then down a narrow road into and back out of the valley up to dear old St Aggie.

After breakfasting there my caravan moved on. Well it’s me really. The only hint of a caravan is my rucksack. Good old ruckie. Ruckie matey mate. Old pal.

I’d come quite a way inland to reach the campsite and didn’t connect to the coast path again until Porthtowan.

From here the coast path was stunning, yet again. This isn’t a green and pleasant land. It leaves that epithet way behind.

This is an other Eden, demi-paradise, a precious stone set in the silver sea. This is a blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this Cornwall.

A wonderful walk round to Portreath was my afternoon treat. This is the heart of historic tin, copper and silver mining in Cornwall, and was for many centuries. The old mines, smelting ovens with their tall chimneys and hundreds of open pits are all across this land. Many have been capped with these iron coverings or proper concrete caps. Some are still open. They drop down hundreds of feet. And the mines went out way under the ocean. Industrial heritage.

Halfway round to Portreath there were people with big cameras filming seaward. Then I saw them too, with my less-than telephoto lensed naked eyes. There they were, in the sea. A pod of small Orcas just off shore, chasing the newly arrived mackerel. An incredible sight. I’m sorry my iPad couldn’t capture it.

We stood there transfixed. A local guy with a massive telephoto lens said he was going to upload the footage to Cornwall Marine website. He said he’d never seen anything like it.

Word got round quickly and a few sightseeing/fishing boats steamed into the area.

Amazing. Back to this scepter’d isle, and these beaches that are only accessible by boats.

In Portreath, and still 4 miles to go.

I had a pint and fish and chips in the Atlantic Bar/chipper. With the locals.

After a final 90 minute walk, inland again to get to a campsite, I made it. Blooming great. Just before eight. Into the old sleeping bag and see how long I can sleep.

Night night.

Yesterday, I went to the launderette and cleaned my clothes and sleeping bag. I got the tarp, groundsheet and inflatable mattress out in my hotel room and dried and cleaned the lot with cheaply bought kitchen roll.

Inflatable mattress? I know, I know, I know. I’ve put in writing that mattresses when you’re camping are for soft, southern bedwetters. Well here goes, I’m eating jellied eels and my pyjama bottoms feel warm and wet. Happy now?

I packed last night, checked the tide tables and selected a route where you can still get across The Gannel at high tide, being the tidal estuary south of Newquay. I crossed three hours before high tide, all was good, and the weather was cool but sunny. Perfect for walking.

I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything so I headed down the estuary and cut up the coastal hillside to Crantock, where I found the Jam Jar cafe. You may have gathered that I am tone deaf to some of the more sensitive issues coveted by people who are born more recently. So when I see Brioche Bacon Bap I think, what a load of crap. Give me white, sliced bread and fatty bacon any day of the week. I couldn’t even see White Coffee on the menu so I had to order a Flat White. What a load of crap.

And it was great! The coffee was so good I had two! The Brioche Bacon Bun Bollocks was fantastic.

Walking along the ridge above the estuary Newquay looked great.

It isn’t all great. Sadly it’s blighted by the same problems as Scarborough, Brid, Blackpool and Bideford. Unemployment, holiday homes, penny arcades etc. etc.

Looking northwards the cliffs beyond Newquay, up as far as Padstow, were clear as a bell.

Walking round the many headlands the beaches in between were beautiful.

These beaches are close to tourist centres but are fairly empty this year, and probably it is the time of year too. The locals who live off tourism are worried that the Brits are abandoning staycation and returning to the Mediterranean. Probably not helped by the ruthless overcharging by UK holiday home owners during and since covid. Hey ho! Everybody does it, don’t they Tesco, Sky, Direct Line. Tesco! Families can’t feed their kids properly and Tesco are squirrelling record profits for shareholders.

What’s Trotsky up to nowadays? Has he got that ice axe out of his head yet? Oh yep, they pulled it out!

Can he now please use it on those who rob the poor to give to the rich. The boards of UK supermarkets like Tesco, petrol companies and scammers of any kind. Thank you Leon. I support your efforts.

I’m getting closer to Lands End with each step. I needed that day off yesterday. My feet hurt now, but yesterday they really hurt.

The cliffs were quite dodgy to walk along. One slip and you’re in difficulty on some of these stretches. I felt nervous. In normal life I’m usually ok with heights, risk, rock faces, open spaces, closed spaces, men following me. Don’t know what they’re going to do to me. Vomit on me Basil says.

What an extraordinary coastline. And the weather is holding good. Hooray!

I made it to Perranporth, bought some scran at the Co-op and hiked the last couple of miles to a nice hilltop campsite. Not much to do but get in my sleeping bag, with my jacket and walking boots still on, and eat my goodies. BBQ chicken drumsticks and rice salad. Then fall asleep.

Night night.

Up early to get the ferry to Padstow. I packed and Derek offered me a cup of tea. I thanked the lady in the caravan for the offer of coffee but I had prearranged commitments. What’s it like when your dance card is full!!

Thanks Derek. A very decent man.

It took me twenty minutes down to the quay, and then I realised that today was the first of May. May Day in Padstow. Bloody Ell! Obby Oss!

The one day of the year where a pagan celebration of the arrival of summer grips the entire town and two ancient hobby horses are pushed around by the locals. Amazingly historical and impressive. I’d struck upon it by accident!

It was very early but the vibe was electric.

I reluctantly set off for the far coast. And made it quickly.

I’m back on the coastal path, the weather is clear and I’m enjoying this enormously.

I’m reinvigorated. Largely by a turn in the weather, the kindness of strangers, the sense of history and latter day relevance in pagan ritual.

And the beauty of Bedruthan Steps. As children Deb and myself referred to them as Bedridden Steps. 1967, camping in Newquay with my Che Guevara T shirt and boyish charm. Deluded get.

A long walk but this means I can get a rest day in Newquay, clean all my stuff, laundry too, dry the tarp and catch up on my blogs.

Every mile gives another perspective of this most beautiful of coastlines.

And now I can’t see Lundy Island any more but I can see the headland that houses St Ives, in the very far distance. Signalling the arrival in the next few days of my dear friend David Kilby. My Everest buddy. But not yet.

I found my hotel – £39 for the night. Double bed and en suite. Oooooh! A bit ropey but there’s no goat shit on the floor. Not until this old goat’s finished!

I’m going to pass my rest day here now I’ve caught up on my schedule.

Weren’t ABC great. And Beefheart, Beach Boys, Cream, Pink Floyd, Beatles (obviously), Maccabees, Loudon, Bob Dylan, Leonard, the Who, Bowie, Arctics, Richard Hawley, Eagles, Bruce.

What a time to be alive.

I’ll rejoin you again in two days when I’m on the road again. Thanks Canned Heat. When I’m going up the country. Thanks Canned Heat.

Night night.

When we lived in Bristol me and Maggie (aka the wife) used to say ‘Or royt moy caaark’ in exaggerated Bristolian accents. In fact we still do it because Bristol was a key part of our lives, meeting lifelong friends like the noisy bastard neighbour Bavs. It means, are you alright my friend. Bristol was a friendly community in the 70s and early 80s. We loved it.

I woke at 6.30 and the noise of rain on my hut roof drove me back to sleep. This process repeated itself at 8.30, 10.15, 11.20 and 12.35. My sleeping bag was warmer than the alternative.

At 1pm I couldn’t wait any longer and packed my gear. It had been so wet I couldn’t get out for a pee so I’d been peeing in my plastic drinking mug, usually the home of my teeth at night, and chucking it out of the opening. My teeth were resting, uncleaned and undisturbed in my mouth.

The hens and goats were sad to see me go.

Bye bye sanctuary.

I waterproofed up, no photos today I’m afraid, and set off along the road through the village. After a couple of miles another farm shop came along and the breakfast here was as good as the one near Boscastle. The tea was the best I’ve had for years. Loose tea captured in a strainer. A wow taste. I didn’t want to leave.

But I had to. The coast temporarily appeared to my right during a break in the low cloud.

And then it was head down and aim for Rock. Avoid the cars, keep alert, keep safe. I don’t like this. I want the coast path back and I’ll get it tomorrow. Needs must.

At 7pm I arrived at the site. Hungry and wet. Derek, the site manager, was a star. He found a dryish piece of land for my tarp and saw that I was knackered. He asked if I was charity walking. I told him the story of Chip and I was so exhausted I burst into tears.

He invited me to join him and his missus for dinner. Did I like pasta and chorizo??? Is the Pope Catholic? I pitched the tarp and whilst I did it he brought me four cans of Malaga lager. Before I got over to Derek and Jo’s place another bloke from the site came over and asked me if I was walking for charity. He gave me £10 and said that it would pay for my ferry and some food tomorrow. A lady in a caravan invited me over for coffee in the morning.

It was an expensive site. More than I expected, but the managers and residents were decent, kind, generous and nice. It touched me deeply.

So did the pasta.

It turned out that Derek and Jo spend winter in their camper van within a couple of miles of Rincon de la Victoria, one of our faves in Andalusia. Small world.

I slept well. The rain had abated and I was aiming for Newquay tomorrow.

Night night.