By: Mike

 


Thursday 15th July

 

In our convoluted logistics, there’s another variation, and this time, let’s hope it works. We learn our lesson from yesterday and realise that the hotel 08.30 breakfast is too late for us, so we creep out early and drive to our next destination – Boscastle.  We park up and wait for the 95 bus.  Worth mentioning at this stage that I have downloaded the brilliant Cornwall CC parking app.  Amazing – it’s totally user friendly.  No more fumbling for coins or trying to phone the dreaded Ringo.  You just enter the code for the car park you are going to and click the time you need to be there and ping. That’s it.  As you can guess, we are not total fans of the Cornwall offer to tourists, but this wins a triple gold star.

And the bus is on time and wafts us quickly back to Crackington where we have a nice breakfast in the café.  But what’s this?  Our three Yorkshire friends are emerging from the pub.  We examine them at leisure.  They are far from being frail old ladies.  They have legs like tree trunks.  At one of our meetings on the path, they tell us that they are from York and Leeds, and regularly go walking/climbing together, usually in Scotland.  They point out, helpfully, that at least on SWCP you ring the changes between up and down at reasonably short intervals.  On a Scottish mountain, you could be descending on your quads for hours.  We are not mollified. 

Later we calculate that on this entire section, we have climbed more than 15,000 feet.  Stick that up your Scottish Ben!

 This is an easier day.  Only six miles.  There are still plenty of ups, so it’s going to take us six hours. Before long we come to a mini-bridge over a stream held up with scaffolding with a group of workmen by it.

 “Are you mending the bridge?”, I ask

“We will be replacing it when the timber arrives”

“Who pays for that, then?”

“You do!  Cornwall County Council, but we will do a proper job”

“Proper job!” I cannot resist replying.             

 We meet a couple from Northallerton, North Yorkshire.  Not far from my old home in Yarm.  She shows us where there are some orchids growing.



  Even this late in the season the entire path is lit up with wild flowers.  I realise I can’t really name any of them.  Must put this right.  There’s probably an app.  There is one pale primrose spiky flower which our three Yorkshire friends want us to identify.  I have no idea.

 We abseil down into Boscastle in good time and head for the pub.  Avoid. Not very nice, and there are two loud and drunken locals sitting outside.

 Mood lightens a lot when we get back to Bude, though.  I got a booking a while ago for dinner at ‘Sea Fever’.  It’s a fish restaurant two doors away from the hotel. I order brill, Chis has the hake. Food is real Rick Stein, and we try a bottle of Camel Valley ‘Atlantic Dry’ It is gorgeous.  Restaurant ambience is quiet and formal.  We ask if they have any availability next week.  Nothing.  When we get the bill, we think it’s probably just as well.  £110.00 including tip.


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