Monday, August 15
Along the east ridge of Portland Island past castle remains and the young offenders institution to the north end and a park where I watched a paraglider take off. Down into the village of Castleton for stop at a pub for wifi and a cup of coffee. Two very friendly older gentlemen were finishing off a mid morning pint and were happy to chat with an American backpacker who thinks their island is beautiful.
I pressed on across the causeway and at the far end stopped at the visitors center for water and a burger from a man with a snack wagon. Finding my stride again I continued along the coastal track with an old familiar feeling that comes from the thousands of miles I’ve walked over the years with everything I need on my back.
I’m a long way from China, Mongolia, Russia, Eastern Europe and the Yoga Festival of France. Although I’m still roughly 5,000 miles away from home I’ve already spent a fair bit of time in England, over the past few years, so it’s all very familiar and very comfortable to me.
After three days of wild camping I decided it was time to check into some kind of proper accommodation. The village of Abbotsbury seemed like the perfect place. It was roughly a 16 mile walk and since it’s a little bit inland and not a beach town I suspected it would be quieter. This along with today being a Monday made me think I could find something reasonably priced fairly easily.
It was almost like I knew exactly what to do without doing it. The village is about a half mile from the coast path with a number of ways to get to whatever the village has to offer. I instinctively knew where to take a left, right, left, and wound up at a nice pub with a guest house, however, a room at the guest house is 53 pounds. I inquired anyway. “I’ll take 40 pound for single”, responded the pub owner. “Hmm, that’s still a bit too much for me. I can pay 30 pound”. Quicker than expected the Pub owner responded, “Ok”. I was actually surprised it was that easy but 30 pound was really my top dollar. Also included was a full English breakfast in to get me off in the morning.
The Guest House? The room is fabulous. The Pub’s Steak and Kidney pie is divine and the real ale perfecto. Come to think of it, I haven’t had a room to myself in a month. Luxury is a sweet thing when you don’t have it all the time.
Thursday, August 18
Today I awoke to one of those classic filthy weather mornings. The wind was whipping around off the ocean and rain was falling in fits and spurts of light to moderate intensities. I took my time packing up a perfectly dry camp thanks to a Linhay on a parcel of National Trust Land overlooking the ocean.
A Linhay is a small basic farm shed like structure with stone walls, a slanted roof with a door one end. The once dilapidated building had just been restored as a historical remnant of a way of farming long gone from the area. With weather moving in and a good days hike done I accidently stumbled upon the structure while debating where I was going to camp for the night. Although it’s not intended to be a place for people to stay overnight it’s well suited for it.
Since National Trust Land is public land and the location was fairly removed and hidden I felt fine with staying there. The inside was big enough for me to pitch my tent so I did so without the rain fly to keep out any small critters that might be messing about during the night. Once situated I tuned in a British radio show spinning classic tunes and dozed off as the wind howled into the night.
As expected, I didn’t see anyone else while at the Linhay. Had anyone come around the worst thing that would have happened is that they would have asked me to move or leave. It really would not have been a big deal at all. The general rule with camping along all of the trails in the UK is to set up late, pack up early, and leave no trace. No problem.
Friday August 19
I reached Exmouth yesterday evening after seven days of walking. Just as planned. I checked into a cheap single room at a guest house for the night and visited a couple of local pubs before calling it a day.
This morning is absolutely beautiful and I’m debating what to do next. I just got finished taking advantage of the serve yourself kitchen full of breakfast food included with the 25 pound guest house tariff. Eggs, bacon, toast, cereal, tea, coffee, etc. etc. Help yourself. All you can eat.
So, this is the deal. I’m due to fly back to the states at the beginning of September from Ireland but my ticket is flexible with no change fee. From where I sit now it makes sense to boogie up to Wales and catch a ferry to Ireland, however, I’m inclined to continue along the coast path a few more days. To add to it all an opportunity to detour off to the mediteranian Island of Corsica at the end of August to hike the famed GR 20 has been presented to me. The GR 20 is very appealing but I have been on the road for quite some time now. Hmmm. Perhaps I should just stay on the Coast Path a little longer and see what a few more miles say.
Oh well, tough decisions. For the time being I think I’ll just get my stuff together this morning and see how I feel. I’ll let you know soon what I decide.
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