This has been a very challenging but really positive day. There have been really difficult sections of path, followed by more relaxing parts, and then finishing with a proper test of my fitness and resolve. So I’m really happy. The icing on the cake was that a couple of minutes after I finished putting up the tent tonight the rain started to pour down. There is nothing quite so satisfying as that.

I nearly quit

It’s crazy, how could I possibly end up with having a really good day but start with such bleak thoughts. And I must admit, looking back on it now it does seem rather absurd.

Just before going to bed I had been in a really happy place. I’d managed to get all my clothes dried and one of my battery banks was at full charge and the other would be full by the morning. I’d had a shower and was in my night clothes so was nice and warm. As I lay in bed, around 11pm a thunder storm came through. It was quite loud and the rain was hard on the tent with quite a strong wind, but the tent seemed to be handling it well, and after about an hour all was calm and I went to sleep.

I was woken at 3am by rain hitting the tent. This rain was so strong, I wasn’t sure if the tent was designed to withstand it. There was a bit of spray getting in but I closed all the vents which seemed to stop this. Then the wind and thunder came. It sort of felt like I was in a washing machine. The tent was being blown around in all directions, the rain getting stronger, and really close gaps between the thunder and lighting. Each roar of thunder was lasting for an age as well. I was wondering if I needed to abandon the tent and take shelter in the campsite kitchen. I didn’t feel like it was sensible to stay, I was worried that I was being reckless.

I didn’t want to pack all my stuff up though, and I thought taking anything out of the tent at this stage might be even more stupid. So I decided to wait it out. If I’m honest though I was a little scared. I felt vulnerable and defenceless, at the mercy of the storm. It was all out of my control and I didn’t know what to do – it was like I was just a passenger in this situation. Then, after about an hour, the storm passed. The tent had done an amazing job. It was still raining but the wind had calmed, and the storm had moved on to cause havoc elsewhere. I did get back to sleep but I don’t  think I slept very well, which may explain my next thoughts.

I woke up around 5:30am and looked at the weather forecast for the next few days, and to me, at that moment, it didn’t look good. Strong winds today, then rain for the days after that. As it was a Saturday I knew Jenny was around and I considered called her and asking to be picked up. I decided that I’d had enough.

It was also that everything felt quite disorganised. All my kit was unpacked and all over the tent, I wasn’t sure how to get everything put away to keep things dry. It all just felt a bit out of control. This was part of the reason I didn’t abandon the tent in the night, there was too much to consider in terms of packing up, and ultimately I was under my quilt and, for now, warm and dry.

It was still very early so I couldn’t call Jenny to discuss my plans so I decided to get packed up. The rain had momentarily stopped so this would be a good opportunity to get everything organised. So that’s what I did. I just methodically went through my usual morning process of putting various bits of kit where they needed to go and packed up. Ten minutes later everything was away, safe and secure, and for some reason, I felt better. The forecast didn’t look so bad. I was going to carry on. I don’t really understand how this simple act of packing everything away helped me but it was like night and day. Maybe it was because I took back some of the control.

Once packed up I went and sat in the kitchen for bit and made myself a hot chocolate. Martin, a fellow camper, came in after an hour or so, and the first thing he said was – “what the f*** was that!”. So it wasn’t just me who’d been a bit shook up.

Hartland Point

Strong winds had been forecast for the day but I hoped they would only really affect me for the start of the day. Once joining the path back at Hartland Quay it would only be a few miles to Hartland Point, at which point I’d turn eastwards, which would mean I’d be more sheltered and any wind would be on my back, rather than trying to throw me sideways.

This is pretty much how it played out. I’d had quite a late start in the end due to too much chatting at the campsite and waiting for my batteries to fully charge, but I was at Hartland Point around lunch time. The terrain to here had been hard work again, similar to the last few days I suppose, but I was used to it now. Occasionally though, the path gave a little relieve and went along a valley between the high cliffs on either side. It was being kind.

I was feeling really positive now as well. It’s almost like I needed that little low I’d had to sort out my frame of mind. Reaching Hartland Point felt like another milestone as well. As I turned the corner I could see Wollacombe which is well into Devon. I knew it’d be a couple of days to get there but it was very clear to see. I felt like good progress was being made. The storm now really just a distant memory. I actually did then call Jenny, but this was just to discuss when I might finish in Minehead and if I should get a train home or if she’d pick me up. Nothing concrete was decided because I still wasn’t sure of my end date, but at least now I was thinking there would be an end, and not just an escape.

Everything changes

The landscape after Hartland Point changes. Not just a little, it’s totally different. There are more trees, the paths become lined but big verges, you walk beside fields with crops rather than livestock. It’s all a lot flatter as well. Well initially anyway.

I really did enjoy the cliffs and climbs before – when I look back anyway. But they were very hard work. On those I was only averaging about 1.5 miles an hour, sometimes less. Now I could stretch my legs, give my heart a bit of a rest, and enjoy the surroundings. I even listened to a bit of music.

Near Shipload Bay I rounded a corner and a lady was sat down at the side of the path. She was doing something with her feet and at first I was worried that she had hurt herself. Which was sort of true but she was tending to her feet which she said was causing her some problems. She was walking from Minehead to Poole and was on about day 8 but had been struggling with blisters since day 2. I really felt for her because I know how that feels and it’s really not nice.

We talked for at least half an hour about the walk and its ups and downs. She was using a bag transfer service for a couple of days to try and help her feet recover and she was talking about how some people would think bad of her. I tried to reassure her that they wouldn’t, and that I was jealous that she was doing the whole thing in one go, and that you do what you have to do. I really hope her journey works out. I don’t think she was enjoying it at that moment and I know how that can feel, because why do it if you don’t enjoy it. I’ve had really hard times on the trail, but it always feels good looking back, and the good times on the walk definitely make up for the bad.

I really wish I could have helped her more. If she could have looked into my mind and my experience of the coastal path she’d have realised it’ll all be ok and she shouldn’t worry that there are low points. I don’t think anyone doesn’t have them. My only little gesture though – she’d run out of tape for her feet so I gave her mine.

Regretting the late start

I hadn’t covered many miles so far in the day and it was starting to get into the early afternoon. There had been some delightful parts of the path though. Walking next to fields that had wild flowers planted around their borders and then into forests where the path wound around the trees. A few climbs but these tended to be short lived.

I did notice though that, on the coast at least, there aren’t any settlements at all and when they were it would be just a few houses. It was a nice few miles though. The girl who I’d just met had said in her mind, when thinking about what the path would be, had envisaged it all being like this section. A text book coastal path.

I did now need to start thinking about what I was going to do for the night. I was currently on a very unremarkable part of the path, running near Clovelly, which was just a road with lots of loose rocks. It wasn’t much fun, and you could forget you were on a coastal path, but it was quite fast to walk on. I had a look on my phone and found a campsite that looked a sensible distance away, I guess about 6 miles, and estimated I could get there for about 7:30pm. I called and said I’d be there for 8pm and they told me not to worry about time and they’d see me later.

At this point I noticed a warm spot on each of my heels. Normally I ignore this but decided that was silly and I needed to stop and take a look. I’m glad I did because some blisters were starting to develop. I think it’s probably because I’ve been walking in wet boots on some of the days. I was so glad I’d caught it early because I put blister plasters on each foot and now it feels fine. A few minutes to pause had probably saved me hours of pain.

Penalty shootout

I’m not a football fan. I don’t understand why people care about it. I do understand though that they do so I have learnt not to question it. Well, while England was involved in a penalty shootout, I was involved in a little challenge of my own.

I’m not sure how many times in my blog I’ve used the word underestimated but I’d really done that for this section. I’m at a campsite in Westacott and the terrain between Clovelly and here is not easy walking. It’s back to the steep climbs and descents. The paths are narrow and many are quite overgrown. I felt worried about the time, but I was proud of myself that I was still going. You just have to push on.

The path was magnificent, it was so high about the sea at some points, the views spectacular. But it was tough on my legs.

I had my headphones in at the time and I’m in a group chat with some friends. They were all commenting on the penalty shootout while I was tacking this path. It felt like I was involved in the battle and part of what they were going through.

What a welcome

I finally got to the campsite at 8:30pm, 20 miles covered for the day and with some decent climbs, which wasn’t too bad. The office looked closed but then I noticed a lady waving at me to come in. She was really nice. I’m convinced I talked too much but I was on such a high to be there, to have overcome that last bit of path. I had a real high so was chatting way too much.

The bonus, she had a little shop as well, and as I’d been craving sweet drinks and chocolate for the last few hours, I treated myself to probably more than I should have. I felt really lucky that it’d all worked out.

And bonus number two, because I covered that tricky path today, I don’t have to do it tomorrow.