LEJOG05: Trevarrian to Wadebridge

Today was actually quite uneventful. I headed back onto the cliffs at around nine o’clock and started making my way up the coast. The further I went the warmer it got, until it became lovely if breezy. At first my main companions were mostly elderly couples, up early and onto the cliffs for a stroll. The later and warmer it got the more the beaches filled up with families.

The landscape was similar to the two preceeding days; green fields that stopped and then sagged into the sea, revealing the rocky cliffs underneath. The main difference was that the height of the cliffs got smaller and smaller until they almost disappeared around Constantine bay.

It was at this point that I took a detour from the coast path as instructed by my guide book, taking a short cut to another section of coast. This highlighted something about costal paths that had been bugging me. They are amazing and would make for a good holiday, combining as they do beaches and countryside. However, they’re also quite pointless. They take the most circuitous and strenuous route between a and b, and don’t really connect to anything but themselves.

My shortcuts across land highlighted the futility of the coast path, showing how it was so much easier to get to a destination if you took the direct route. However, one of the good things about coast paths is that it’s difficult getting lost. Inevitably then as soon as I strayed from the sea to get to Padstow I got a bit lost. This wasent good. I’m not the best person for getting lost, especially if I’m on my own. I’m like the fast show artist character who flips out into fits of despair and violent melancholy whenever the word ‘black’ is mentioned. I flip out and go into a downward cycle of self-loathing whenever I get lost. It’s not pretty but thankfully only occurs when I’m on my own, sparing others the embarassment of a grown man on the verge of tears acting like a child.

I finally made it to Padstow and guess who I saw as I strolled down to the harbour? Rick Stein in a suit followed by a couple of what looked like his accountants. If he hadn’t looked so busy and I wasnt so frazzled I’d have asked for a photo.

I didn’t have much time to explore padstow which was a shame. I’m starting to dislike the way my guide book was giving me mental journeys to do each day. It stops me having the time to chill out and/or explore places. The author is too extreme, he even suggested to do the entire trip in a bivvy bag! I’m going to have to have a proper re-evaluation of my plans on my next rest day.

At padstow my route met the camel trail, and old railway line that has been converted into a path for the enjoyment of families who hire a squad of bikes and whizz past the mud flats of the river camel. It’s great for the families, I should know as I was taken on the trail many moons ago, but boron and monotonous for a walking because it all looks the same. To compensate I decided to kane it down the five miles to Wadebridge, that nights stop off. This was probably a mistake-I did the five miles in less than an hour and a half but on crossing the finishing line my entire body seized up. I had a horrible feeling this is what my mum was talkin about when she warned me about ‘doing too much’. I hobbled into the campsite‎-a horrible chintzy ‘holiday park’ which was mainly for caravans but had a single strip of land for campers that was occupied only by me. Even the kids playground was horrible with it’s slightly racist swing.

However, I put up the tent and it was fine. After a quick dinner at the local pub (3 cheese and chicken pasta-I didn’t bother asking for parmasan) I retired to bed, which I found to be more than adequately warm for my needs. Now all I had to worry about was the five hour section the next day that had been labelled ‘sever’ in my guide book. Sounds like something to look forward to!

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