Down to the Lizard Point to pick up where I finished off this morning. Cloudless. Blue sea and pastel sky.

Back at Zennor we met Dutch Pete from Bolton. He’d lived in Holland for donkey’s years and spoke with a Lancashire-Dutch accent. He led us to a decent campsite and was very helpful. He comes to the Lands End area every September for four weeks. Loves it. He’s 69 and looks 63. He gave us some beer that was 11.8%. Friendly guy.

The Star in St Just gave us free drinks due to their strong links with the forces and my Help for Heroes shirt.

By the way – if anyone is thinking of donating;
bmycharity.com//bladegoeswest

Tune in, turn on and give baby give…..

This wonderful arch opened up just after Lizard.

For some reason it was hard going today, I couldn’t get my legs working right and my chest was a bit iffy, although it got better in the afternoon. Eventually we made the 11miles round to Coverack. Tomorrow is a rest day, we’re going fishing on a boat to catch fish on the sea with rods and we’ll eat the buggers too!!! So looking forward to it – not been out since last year and the forecast is good.

Yep, eventually made it to Coverack. A welcome sight appearing out of the distance.

I’ve not been there before and it’s little harbour was full of tiny working boats.

Steve, our skipper tomorrow, has a decent sized catamaran for deep sea fishing and he’s good; he’s the best I’ve been out with and Georgie and Antonia have caught some big fish off his boat, conger, pouting, whiting and mackerel. He spends April to October taking out fishing parties as many days as he can and then takes his missus to Thailand from November to March. Great life innit?

When we got to Coverack we pitched up at a nice local hotel for half an hour to drink cider in the sun. Lush.

Thursday and Friday we’re going to push on from Coverack to Helford and Falmouth.

I’ve just spoken to Maggie and Georgie and they’ve suggested that I stay down and do the path all in one go. They will get Juliet down to University. I’m sad I won’t be home but it makes sense. It helps me make progress in the warm weather, however long this lasts. It means that I’ll hopefully finish by the 9th October. Let’s not count my chickens. Lots of problems can arise and I must focus on the next walking day not the end of the path.

It means I’ll have only been home for 10 days in nearly four months. It makes sense but a break would have been good. And when Andrew goes home on Saturday I’m on my own for a month. I’ll see Ziva in Totnes hopefully when I’m passing but this will be a lonely stretch. Anyway I’ve got Wilson. He understands me.
Hey, have you seen this woman’s head growing out of my right shoulder? I think I need it cut off.

Wow, wow, wow!!! Weather in Cornwall doesn’t get better than this, and the scenery is of epic quality. Not seen a cloud all day but the haze has created this timeless, enclosed world where there isn’t anything beyond the haze-horizon.
We started at 9am from Porthleven and walked two miles down an empty beach and then up onto the cliff tops to Mullion. This shot is looking back to Porthleven.

It’s a different country down here to some extent and the Cornish flag flies throughout. There is also a feeling of being part of the Celtic brotherhood of Wales, Ireland, Scotland, Man and Brittany. The local here flies the Cornish and Breton flags. Mont St Michel/ St Michael’s Mount – it feels more Breton than Britain.

Still a lot of Germans but it’s apparently due to some German author writing books about this part of the world. Bloke in North Devon told me that there was a waterfall straight into the sea near Combe Martin and U Boats used to moor up there in the dark of night and fill up with water. They had a reunion in Combe Martin for U Boat crews in recent years. One was captured near Southampton during the war and the crew were searched. One of them was found to have a ticket for Combe Martin’s cinema in his pocket. Fact or fiction? Be a great story if fact.

You know that advert for Barclays with old geezers playing walking football? Me and Antonia met a bloke near Westward Ho! fishing for grey mullet and he turned out to be the guy who scores a goal towards the end of the ad.

By the way, those Leki walking poles the kids at SIG bought for my leaving present have been awesome and will be key to me finishing over the final 4 weeks. Jesus – 4 weeks. I’m home to see Jet off to university in Sheffield next Tuesday for a few days and then back for Part Two. Bring it on!
This is the view looking down towards the end of the Lizard and the second photo is me on the furthest south point of the UK Mainland.
Hard aren’t I? Tougher than those Commando trainees that’s for sure. Not watching this are they?

Night Night.

Another incredibly beautiful day, starting out at 8am from Penzance and ending up at Porthleven, 14 miles and over 2000 feet climbing. The coast is superb, the vast chimneys of granite blocks packed together in fantastical shapes now beginning to interface with the compressed slate that runs up into Devon from here.

The morning was cool and cloudy and then the sun has come out for the afternoon. We legged it round to Marazion and the majestic St Michael’s Mount and onwards to Perranuthnoe in the early part of the day, taking advantage of the low temperature to eat up 6 miles of relatively flat but still tiring sand and cliff walks.
Here’s St Mickey’s in the morning.

We had the best breakfast in the world at Perranuthnoe on a terrace hanging over the beach with two huge pots of tea.

Then onwards up cliff and down to coves in the heat of the day until we finally arrived at Porthleven. The town is lovely, particularly on a Sunday when there’s raft racing and local wet-suited youths jumping off high points into the harbour. I know I’m getting old because I didn’t want to copy them!

This is a happy time when I’m doing good mileages in good, dry weather. But I’m still not half way. On my own with a wet arse and gale force winds battering my bivvy to Kingdom Come, smelling like a trout because I can’t get a site with a shower and aching like a geriatric ……. then my friends reality will bite and bite hard. That will separate the men from the boys.
Who wants to play at cowboys and Indians?

This path is so varied. One minute you’re climbing over boulders on a beach and the next you’re under a canopy of short trees which is like walking through a cave with elven orientation.

‘Certainly the children have seen them, in quiet places where the moss grows green’ – who else but the Incredible String Band. It’s the next few lines that worry me.
‘Coloured shells jangle together, the wind is cold and the year is old and the trees whisper together, and bent in the wind they lean’.
Bent in the wind I will lean too.

Oh for God’s sake Smithy think bloody positive.

I’m going to make it to Poole and walk past that monument at the finish line with my head held high. There – begone you darkened thoughts of doom and let there be light. And there was light. And the monster in my head was banished forever. Hurray!!!!

As I was saying before I pressed the wrong button and published the last blog, the last section is beyond belief. The rock formations, the sea where the Channel meets the Atlantic and the coves are proper world heritage standard and not crappy 100 year old mine workings that make some parts of this beautiful shire look like South Yorkshire after the pit closures and before any regeneration.

Lands End is a commercial centre now but we still did the tourist photo bit, without paying.

We met Susie and Pete again at Porthgwarra on the cliff tops with Pete scanning the coast and cliffs for rarities of the sea and skies. He’s a Twitcher and loves setting up his camera and binoculars for a session in beautiful environments. What a great hobby. Susie walks on the cliffs. Great hols.

Andrew and myself were looking out to sea just before Porthgwarra and saw a huge shape about a quarter of a mile to half a mile out. We couldn’t believe it was a whale and far too big for the biggest Basking Shark. It changed shape and eventually sank back into the ocean. A dense shoal of fish, so packed it looked like a single living being. There is a shoal of Mackerel that has moved in to the south coast and come into the shallow waters hunting whitebait. It stretches from here (Porthcurno) into Devon. A vast swathe of sealife.

I’m not halfway yet. I’ve done about 260 miles. I’ll check tonight. 370 to go. Jesus.

I didn’t check but it’s now Saturday afternoon and I’ve made it to Penzance today and that gives me 270 miles done and 360 to go. Better than that, Andrew hasn’t trodden in slurry today and my dangly bits are good as gold. No problem at all.
This area is blooming awesome. It’s sunny, the sea is very calm and the haze adds to the slightly unreal and delightfully distant feel about the whole coast. A tough 12 mile walk today though, up and down and rough walking on occasions. Six Royal Marine Commando trainees ran past us on the path yesterday carrying huge sandbags on their shoulders, being managed by three trainers. Not very tall but broad shoulders like heavyweight boxers and amazingly fit – that’s me and Andrew by the way. The Squaddies were pansies.

This is looking back west at Lamorna Cove. What a view.

And now looking forward, just round the corner and walking towards Mousehole the hazy bay of Penzance with St Michael’s Mount in the left hand background.

It’s a great experience whilst the weather’s ok but let’s see what the next five weeks bring.
Night
1. Porlock
2. Lynton
3. Hunters Inn
4. Coombe Martin
5. Woollacombe
6. Braunton
7. Bideford
8. Abbotsham
9. Hartland
10. Morwenstowe
11. Bude
12. Crackington Haven
13. Tintagel
14. Port Gaverne
15. Rock
16. Harlyn
17. Trevarrian
18. Perranporth
19. Portreath
20. Hayle
21. St Ives
22. Zennor
23. Cape Cornwall
24. Porthcurno
25. Penzance

It rained a bit this morning before we broke camp. I put my foot in my trainers and the right one was wet inside. I thought it had caught some rain as Wilson doesn’t give complete cover. However on taking off my trainer and looking inside I pulled out a substantial, squashed and leaking slug. Sock soup anyone?

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.

I’m off the path for 6 days. Loafing in St Ives today and with Maggie tomorrow through to Tuesday, picking up here again Tuesday evening. My feet are in very good nick. Ready for the restart. No twinges in the left thigh so I’m ready for active service when I’m back on the path.
St Ives is really nice. Lots of people but really nice.

I’m going out on a boat at one o’clock for a couple of hours fishing. Mackerel hopefully but it’s not guaranteed this time of year.
It rained so much yesterday that Wilson attracted a lot of slugs. I must have thrown thirty off my head, face, neck and arms in the night. Big uns too. I’ve moved Wilson to a drier spot with sun drying it out more to avoid them tonight. Maybe nick a salt pot from a chippy to punish any stragglers. No – not to flavour them before I eat them Ziva. Used them for bait in France for a few unsuccessful minutes but apparently they are the natural bait for Sturgeon. Might be good for Mackerel.

Talked to Danny from Mexborough last night and his partner Laura, down here with young Lucy. Nice couple and it’s summat like Danny’s 18th stay in St Ives. It’s amazing the number of people who come back year after year. Mind you Tassat, our French house in the past, was our hideaway for 18 years. Familiarity and reunion. Lovely.

I’ll blog periodically over the next 6 days and then kick in again next Tuesday. I’ll break now and renew this blog after i’ve caught lots of fish.

Renewing the blog, the boat only went 300 yards from shore and the whole boatload of punters all caught fish. I got about 25, being clearly the best fisherman. No, the seal was the best fisherman.

I gutted and topped and tailed a dozen fish on the beachside, amid enormous interest from the gulls, which I brought back to the campsite and cooked on a barbecue sharing them with two young German lads from Stuttgart. The mackerel were absolutely delicious. We saw off all 12.

The view from the site is lovely.

It’s now Friday noon and I’ve caught the train to Penzance to pick up a hire car to pick up Maggie from Plymouth to spend four days in Looe. Then back on the path again.

One of my favourite memories so far was following Antonia through coastal woodland paths whilst she played Incredible String Band on her iPad. The Iron Stone – ‘out on the long beach where I found it, dancing horses told their tale’. Then Williamson’s guitar and Heron’s sitar battle it out to a remarkable conclusion that drops your jaw. You’re looking for a spiritual rest and Mike Heron leads in with ‘Douglas Traherne Harding’ – ‘when I was born I had no head, my eye was single and my body was filled with light’.

Kismet Hardy. May the long time sun shine upon you, all love surround you, and the pure light within you guide you all the way on.

We’ll not really and you opened it anyway so you’re as daft as me – ha ha. Two nights ago I ended up in Portreath doing b&b for the second time this trip. Sue and Steve were the hosts and donated the fee to Help for Heroes. It’s people like them who put the Great in Britain – without being unnecessarily jingoistic. Thank you, lovely couple.
I gave it a good walk round Cornwall’s Heritage coast, past mine shafts, quarries and mine buildings which generated wealth for a few and in fairness a living (albeit low level) for many in centuries past.

This valley running down to the sea is typical – verdant and besmirched by old tin, lead and silver mine workings – mostly tin.
I met up with Susie and Pete at their Holiday site near Hayle yesterday (Tuesday) and had a very pleasant afternoon and evening with them – conking out under Wilson after I’d tied him to their caravan. The sunset from the bistro below their caravan was of Caribbean proportions. Breath-taking and this idiot didn’t have a camera. But he did when Susie and Pete posed.
Auntie Susan, over 50 years old and still looks lovely, like her sister. Pete’s not bad either for a toyboy.

Today I’ve walked from their place to St Ives. Never been before and I’ve heard all this pretentious cobblers from artists on the telly about the unique light at St Ives and it’s beneficial effect for etchings and stuff. But it’s true! I’ve been walking in the rain and on the approach to St Ives it has been illuminated by little pockets of sunlight and the town has shone. I’m now up in the hills behind St Ives waiting for the rain to ease up so I can tie Wilson to a hedge.

Maggie’s down on Friday for 4 nights – hooray! I miss the old dear when she’s not near.

I screwed up arrangements with my sister, Debs. She was going to join me in September for a few days and we changed it to August, but I still had September in my brain. She couldn’t get hold of me and missed out on the walk. Sorry my old kid, sorry, sozzer. Now that’s the extent of my pee pot penitence because I’ve spent all my life feeling guilty and sorry and that’s enough now. But I’m sorry I missed Debs as we don’t get any time together.

Padstow is owned by Rick Stein you know. He’s got summat like 8 trading properties and the town is heaving with people desperate to be associated with the brand. “Let’s walk down this cobbled street with three million others in FrankenSteinville and gather warmth from the reflected glory of the name of the Father, Son, Holy Ghost, Bistro, Restaurant, Chippy, Gift shop et al. Rick. Rick. Rick”.
Don’t know if you saw Rick Clayton’s comments on my lack of blogs etc but they were so brilliant I nearly wet my kecks.

Newquay is tacky, deteriorating and haunted by drug addicts. Young kids without teeth.

The rest of Cornwall so far is lovely. Cliffs drop down 300, 400, 500 feet just feet from the coast path and you hope there isn’t a blast of wind to carry you away.

Late August and empty beaches. Lovely.

Night
1. Porlock
2. Lynton
3. Hunters Inn
4. Coombe Martin
5. Woollacombe
6. Braunton
7. Bideford
8. Abbotsham
9. Hartland
10. Morwenstowe
11. Bude
12. Crackington Haven
13. Tintagel
14. Port Gaverne
15. Rock
16. Harlyn
17. Trevarrian
18. Perranporth
19. Portreath
20. Hayle
21. St Ives

I ended up in Perranporth last night, doing 16 miles which I’m pleased about but it’s peeing it down. Yesterday was calm, a shift in the wind direction to the south east and the hundreds of surfers had no waves coming in to this north westerly facing coast.
I’ve done over 210 miles. I’m staying at a b&b type arrangement tonight, Sue and Steven the hosts are brilliant. I got a soaking this morning and needed a roof and some drying out. Georgie and Maggie’s acting as my back up team sourced the nicest people in Cornwall and I’m staying at their place tonight. I’ve already had a bath! A bath!!
My feet are beginning to heal up but there’s still a nasty blister on blister arrangement on my right instep. Better each day slowly but surely. I’ve pulled a muscle in my left thigh so I’m hobbling a bit on occasions but it’s ok. I weighed myself after the bath. I’ve lost a stone – TA DADDLY DAD DA DAAAA!!! Normally I’d evacuate my alimentary and strip to nowt on and spit out to get to minimal weight but this time I just strolled on the scales and wow there we go.

I posted a photo of my mate Antonia. Here’s one of my mates Georgie and Jet in Spain 6 weeks ago. My lovely kids. br />

Today was a struggle. I wanted to stay in my sleeping bag. I did 13 miles uphill and down dale and eventually made it here. I’m glad I made the effort. =”https://bladegoeswest.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/img_0131.jpg”&gt;

The colours are fantastic, as I’ve mentioned before, and these views are beyond belief on occasions.

Night
1. Porlock
2. Lynton
3. Hunters Inn
4. Coombe Martin
5. Woollacombe
6. Braunton
7. Bideford
8. Abbotsham
9. Hartland
10. Morwenstowe
11. Bude
12. Crackington Haven
13. Tintagel
14. Port Gaverne
15. Rock
16. Harlyn
17. Trevarrian
18. Perranporth
19. Portreath

The elves aren’t here though I’m afraid. Maybe I had a bit of contact in North Devon on the edge of Exmoor in the forest. I don’t know. I thought I heard summat. It’s too busy and bare in Cornwall. They’ve gone to the Grey Havens for good.