Fowey to Polperro – A Wonderwalk

And after all.

Today was my first day walking with the Kilbys. Yesterday me and Senor Kilby went out into the Channel on a fishing boat. Caught some reyt fish, pollock bashing.

And we had them for tea last night. I filleted eight of them so there was enough to save for tomorrow. Che will be making a curry. Tonight’s barbecued fish was beautifully fresh and tasty. Tasty. Very, very tasty.

Che took me and Mr and Mrs Killer to Polruan this morning in her van. We all went over to Fowey on the ferry. It was lovely.

A decent bacon and egg sandwich, back on the ferry and I was connected to where I finished last year. Come on lads and lass. And Mr Kilby explained in detail to his captivated wife the game of paper and scissors. However he forgot the rock.

All together now to trek for Prostate Cancer UK. Hip, hip, hoooray! Goodbye to Che and Flo for a while.

Chantal, aka Mrs Kilby, is very prone to seasickness, however she successfully completed her second ferry crossing without the faintest whiff of vomit. Well done you!

Setting off from Polruan the path climbed up the cliff side until we came to the place where, eight years ago, I fell off the cliff headfirst, fractured my skull and got a Funky Cold Medina.

It was actually a Cerebral Haematoma but if you sing along to Tone Loc’s song you can put that in, in place of Funky Cold Medina. It scans the same. Sounds the same. Looks the same. I’ll put it down as ‘probably the same’.

That’s why I found, you don’t play around with Cerebral Haematoma.

Someone, no doubt touched by my tragic fall and heroic recovery, has now installed a rope to ensure that folk don’t do a Tom Daley on to the rocks below.

I looked around over the drop and I couldn’t see any blood. Although it was a few years since I shed it. But it fell on an area of smooth rocks and the prophet Ezekiel uses the image of blood on a smooth rock to illustrate the consequences of shedding innocent blood. The smooth rock symbolizes that the blood will not be covered up or forgiven, but rather will remain as a stain. 

David Smith you weirdo, move on. OK, but in exchange you must listen to Richard Cheese singing Creep. A touch of class.

So we moved on towards Lantic Bay (in the background).

And suddenly we were much closer.

The weather couldn’t be better. Sunny but still a breeze. The views were just fabulous. In the kind of way that when you see it in bright sunlight the colours change, maybe become more blue, and the image appears to be inside your head rather than out in front. But it doesn’t work when it’s not warm.

And beyond Lantic Bay the path rode up and down the cliffs.

Ordinary coastal views become magical when the colour and smell of the gorse drifts over your path, the sea is calm and you’re feeling at one with the world. But not the Universe because that really is too big to comprehend and it’s too scary to think about. So is infinity and the end of time.

So let’s just get our heads back to the gentle beauty of the south Cornwall coast. Where a path along the middle of a small rocky headland leads, like a ski jump, to a stunning blue sea.

This walk is only 8 miles, including our wandering in Fowey, but it is a steep, repeated rise and fall.

We are not alone.

All things must pass.

Eventually this most beautiful of walks stumbled into town, just like a sacred cow. And the town was Polperro. The end of today’s walk.

The Three Pilchards is a pub built into the cliff, with stone steps at the back through a tunnel that leads to an open air upper bar, perched on the cliff side. And you can climb higher with your food and drink if you really want.

We did.

Then Che picked us up, took us back to the campsite, fed and watered us further with pollock curry and white wine and tucked us up in bed. She sprinkled stardust in our eyes and whispered, go to sleep everything is alright.

I closed my eyes and drifted away.

Night night.