I got caught out once.

It was after my Grandma died. She was, I think, 83 years old and had been suffering quite badly with a form of dementia. It was pretty tough for my parents in those last few years who were trying to help her by putting various things in place, only for her to forget that she’d agreed to them. So her dying was actually a relief and had saved future heartache.

After she died I decided that I was ok with it. Someone in their late twenties is lucky to have a grandparent so losing one at this age was absolutely normal. People would offer their condolences and I’d say, it’s ok, it’s for the best, it’s the best outcome, she was old. And of course, all those things were true.

So I wasn’t paying attention. And when I went to the funeral I suddenly felt a wave of emotion I wasn’t expecting. I was really upset. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. I felt sad I hadn’t paid her enough attention. I felt regret that I’d never asked her about her life. All that knowledge I could have gained from her. All her experiences, growing up in the early 1900s, living in London during world war 2. I wish I’d asked her about all that. Because, even though all the reasons why her dying was ok were right, and made logical sense, she was still a person who was no longer with us.

I learned a lot that day. Be ready for your emotions. They can catch you out. So I was ready for them, and under control, when Jenny and I drove down to the carpark. About to release me back into the wild. Jenny said she was happy with the very little we’d done over the weekend. But I felt guilty that she’d had to drive all this way to see me, and now she was having to drive all the way back. Just because I selfishly wanted to do this walk. It was sad to see her go, but I knew once she was safety back at home it’d be ok.

There were no tears. Emotions under control. Just a little nagging guilt.

Missiles

As we got to the carpark I could see the red flags that indicate firing is taking place on the ranges. I was able to walk through them last time so I was initially disappointed. However, the diversions around them only adding a small distance so it really wasn’t so bad. The path in many places diverts in a similar way so, if there had been no flags, I doubt I’d have noticed any difference.

It was satisfying though, hearing explosions, that the path was diverting for a good reason.

I’d started my day quite late. Which had worked really well with Jenny. If we’d been in a rush I think the departure would have been more upsetting. But as we could take our time it made everything calm. Obviously though, the drawback with starting late, is that I get everywhere late. For that reason I’d kept my objectives simple.

Get to Looe, buy food, walk on for a few miles, find somewhere to camp. Not stupid long distances today.

I think it’s realignment

Around 2pm I was getting hungry and quite keen to get to Looe. Initially I didn’t think it was too far, but it was. I’d had a decent breakfast but nothing since so was looking forward to stocking up. Although, there is always danger when you’re really hungry that you buy too much and weigh yourself down.

I stopped to talk to a couple who were walking in the other direction but doing the coastal path. They were really friendly and kind and I shared quite a lot about my current sabbatical. I told them that sometimes I wake up and think I’ve made a terrible mistake. Other days I think I’m the luckiest man alive and that I’ve discovered a secret no one else knows about.

They were sort of semi retired but still sounded very busy. They said they didn’t like the term retired and, I think this is the word they used, were realigned. Like it’s a different phase but just as active. You basically don’t stop. You keep doing things. It was such an interesting conversation and I got so much from it. I’m trying to take it all in. Trying to be like a sponge.

No right to be calm

I made my way through Looe and grabbed what I needed. Sat down to eat a sandwich, tried and failed to get an ice cream, and then headed out towards Polperro.

Just on the outskirts or Looe I was sitting on a bridge when a lady called Sarah walked by and stopped to talk. I’m not sure why some conversations develop more than others, but before long, I was sharing details about my kids and how they worry me, and also make me proud. About my minor motorbike crash. About all sorts. I guess that’s just the way some conversations go. And today I’d had two of them with total strangers.

I guess on the trail we already have something in common so it’s a good starting point.

I barely saw anyone after this, until I reached Polpero, where I saw lots of people. And then about a mile after, no one again. I always find that peculiar but I suppose it’s to be expected really. Most people don’t sleep on the path.

It was starting to get dark now and I had a little bit of anxiety building that I couldn’t find anywhere to camp, but I was handling this. I felt relatively calm. I was happy with how I was handling this. The path was so narrow, right on the edge of the cliff, with a large slope, so nowhere to camp.

During each climb I imagined a nice flat plateau at the top, with my hopes always dashed. And then, suddenly, there it was, the perfect spot. Although it was 9pm now so the word perfect can do a lot of heavy lifting. But it was good.

I called Jenny, who had successfully arrived home, but then the wind picked up so I decided to set up. The wind is actually my only concern. It’s quite a rocky spot so the pegs are compromised and the position is exposed so no protection from the wind.

Hopefully it’ll be ok.