The highlights of this days walk came at the beginning and end. The first being that since I had walked up that brutal hill the night before, I didn't have to do it this morning. I cut down to the coast path from my camp site. And when I got there it was amazing. There was soft short grass and wildflowers covering little hills and depressions, and all this on top of a high cliff overlooking the sea. And the weather was perfect: sunny but not too hot. I wore my shorty shorts and no sunscreen. I bet you know how that turned out.
Then the path entered an area of bushes which were just overhead, meeting and different flowers blooming, as well as trickling streams. The path was steep here, winding steps down toward the beach below. And I discovered something I hate to admit. All those years I secretly thought my mother was being a bit dramatic always talking about her "bad knees," well, god damn it if I didn't inherit them. I guess either I am getting old or I just never walked down so many hills with a fully loaded pack, sigh, I hate it when I find out I have been being an insufferable brat for years. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.
Finally I reached an all but deserted beach, stretching off in both directions. I rested there looking at the blue water and throwing stones before an equally steep climb up to the next hill. This one was also covered in wildflowers, meadows of them. And I happened to overhear a National Trust worker saying they were going to have to move the coast path back from the cliff cause the cliff is receding, falling away into the sea below. You can bet a stayed as far from the cliff as possible. One off-cliff adventure was enough for me.
I only had mature cheddar and some almonds when I left camp so I was beside myself with joy when I came to branscombe mouth, and the cafe there. I had cream tea, which as I mentioned before is scones, jam, clotted cream and a pot of tea. It was wonderful, and after I took a little nap on the grass at the edge of the beach.
I really think I am in love with this place. Everywhere I go its like I am walking into my imagination, or a BBC special (my imagination, in fact, looks very like a BBC program).
All day the people I passed kept saying, "wow, that looks like a heavy load."
"Yep"
From my nap I continued past some impressive cliffs and rock formations to the town of seaton, where I stopped at a pub to have a cider and use the internet. The publican looked like a pirate and jovially harassed all the women who walked by. He let me taste all his ciders for free and gave me a small plastic union jack so I "wouldn't feel left out of the Diamond Jubilee celebration." If you don't know what that is, look it up.
He also found a Asian style straw hat, you know, the ones that are a very wide cone. He put it on and put shot glasses in his eye sockets then walked around saying "you need flied lice?" It was pretty special. But when I left he asked me if I was sure I'd be okay, with real concern, and told me if I needed anything to just knock at the pub door, he's always there. So friendly.
Now I am in my tent settled down for the evening. For dinner I had tinned oxtail soup I heated with my alcohol stove and unsliced white bread. Again, I must just be starving all the time cause it was fracking delicious.
Then the path entered an area of bushes which were just overhead, meeting and different flowers blooming, as well as trickling streams. The path was steep here, winding steps down toward the beach below. And I discovered something I hate to admit. All those years I secretly thought my mother was being a bit dramatic always talking about her "bad knees," well, god damn it if I didn't inherit them. I guess either I am getting old or I just never walked down so many hills with a fully loaded pack, sigh, I hate it when I find out I have been being an insufferable brat for years. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.
Finally I reached an all but deserted beach, stretching off in both directions. I rested there looking at the blue water and throwing stones before an equally steep climb up to the next hill. This one was also covered in wildflowers, meadows of them. And I happened to overhear a National Trust worker saying they were going to have to move the coast path back from the cliff cause the cliff is receding, falling away into the sea below. You can bet a stayed as far from the cliff as possible. One off-cliff adventure was enough for me.
I only had mature cheddar and some almonds when I left camp so I was beside myself with joy when I came to branscombe mouth, and the cafe there. I had cream tea, which as I mentioned before is scones, jam, clotted cream and a pot of tea. It was wonderful, and after I took a little nap on the grass at the edge of the beach.
I really think I am in love with this place. Everywhere I go its like I am walking into my imagination, or a BBC special (my imagination, in fact, looks very like a BBC program).
All day the people I passed kept saying, "wow, that looks like a heavy load."
"Yep"
From my nap I continued past some impressive cliffs and rock formations to the town of seaton, where I stopped at a pub to have a cider and use the internet. The publican looked like a pirate and jovially harassed all the women who walked by. He let me taste all his ciders for free and gave me a small plastic union jack so I "wouldn't feel left out of the Diamond Jubilee celebration." If you don't know what that is, look it up.
He also found a Asian style straw hat, you know, the ones that are a very wide cone. He put it on and put shot glasses in his eye sockets then walked around saying "you need flied lice?" It was pretty special. But when I left he asked me if I was sure I'd be okay, with real concern, and told me if I needed anything to just knock at the pub door, he's always there. So friendly.
Now I am in my tent settled down for the evening. For dinner I had tinned oxtail soup I heated with my alcohol stove and unsliced white bread. Again, I must just be starving all the time cause it was fracking delicious.
It's great to see a promise kept. Those are some great looking scones.
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