Naxos - More Walking & Beach

For my second day on Naxos I decided to pick up where I left off the previous and took a bus back up to Apiranthos. I got a little later start than the day before and had to endure heaps of annoying chatter from a pack of Australian women in a totally packed bus. After the hour long ride that made several stops along the way I was ready to get walking.

The route leaving Apiranthos was well signed and easy to find. I climbed up above the village to a saddle on a ridge. From there I followed a dirt road for a short distance and made my way up to Chapel Fanariotisa which sits atop Naxos’s third highest mountain. I then retraced my steps to the saddle to find an old donkey trail leading into the next valley on my way to Moni.

Well, the route finding turned out to be a lot less defined than the day before. It was what I’d expect. The rugged descent track was actually quite impressive and not too difficult to follow. I have no idea how old the path is but a lot of work went into setting stone and cutting trail at one time. I imagine it was probably a heavily traveled route hundreds of years ago. Route finding became more challenging when I neared the valley with trees and numerous goat paths. For a short section it was very well marked but that didn’t last long. In reality you are never really that lost in mountains and valleys but if you are not careful it’s easy to waste a lot of time roaming around getting frustrated trying to determine the best way to get to where you want to go.

I found my skills being tested to some degree but in a fun sort of way. As I neared the village of Moni the already very poorly marked trail just kind of faded into a braided mess of goat trails. It was more or less impossible to follow the mapped route so I simply created my own route and by chance met up with the traul again as I neared Moni.

Moni is a very quiet village like a lot of villages on Naxos. White buildings of stone and mortar tightly packed together with narrow flagstone type walkways form a maze between homes. As I tried to find my way through the village I negotiated a donkey blocking the path. Apparently there’s a nice Taverna with a view. I couldn’t find the Taverna but I did find my way out of the village and stumbled upon the Church known as Panagia Drosiani with original faded Byzantine frescos dating back to the 7th Century.

From the church I followed a short stretch of road before finding trail routes that led me to the village of Kalaxilos and Chalki. I ended the walk in Chalki at a bus stop. Chalki is an interesting village in of itself so as the time neared for the bus to arrive people started showing up. A woman sat next to me sharing bench I was sitting on.

More people started gathering and the bus was running a little late so I started talking to her. As it turns out she is a professional photographer from California on a two week trip alone in the Greek Isles taking photos as well as making it a vacation. We talked on the bus ride and got something eat once back in Chora (Naxos Town). I don’t meet many single women traveling who are close to my age. It was easy to relate to one another with travel stories etc. We decided to meet up again the next day and figured we would go to the beach.

So, that’s what we did. Plakka beach is said to be one of the best beaches in the Mediterranean. Now that’s a big claim to make and I’m not sure I agree but it is a good beach. It stretches for well over a mile like a quarter moon. Small family run restaurants line a sandy road with umbrellas and chairs set on the shore below.

A chair under an umbrella for the day costs $5 Euros. A 20 ounce bottle of beer costs $3.50 Euros. Attendants/waiters are relaxed, attentive, and friendly. The water is crystal clear and cool. The sun is bright and sunny. I had a sandwich for $4.50 Euros, made fresh. Greece is proving to be very affordable if not cheap at times.

After spending all afternoon on the beach we walked across the road to a family restaurant with open air seating and a grand view beyond the water of the Island of Paros. Dinner consisted of local lamb with local potatoes and local homemade wine. Upon paying the bill we were each given a nice glass of some type whisky liquor made from grapes. I’m sure it was home made as well. A walk on the beach was in order afterwards before catching the bus back to Chora. At that point we parted ways as her trip is coming to and she had to catch a ferry the following day. I think we both enjoyed the company as is often the case when you are a solo traveler who meets another solo traveler at the right juncture with something in common.

This morning I awoke feeling slightly off with a mild hangover but knew I could shake it quick with a walk. Once again I took a bus up to the mountains and got off in the village of Koronida. The road getting there is kind of impressive. It’s more or less a classic winding mountain road with a steep drop off to one side and too narrow for more than one vehicle in various sections.

Koronida sits about 1500 feet above the fishing village of Apollonas. From the village there’s a nice easy gradual downhill hike along the top of an open ridge which provides a great view of mountains and sea. Apollanas is a lovely old village surrounded by mountains with a nice bay that provides a beach for swimming at a small waterfront. I sat down for lunch at nice spot for average quality food and at a slightly inflated price. Apollanas is a very quiet place that must see most all of it’s visitors during the day. I didn’t notice much for accommodation.

It took an hour and forty five minutes to get back to Chora via bus. I shook off the bus ride with a swim and realized at that moment I’m kind of tired. Tomorrow I’ll take it easy as I board a ferry at noon for the island of Amorgos.

Naxos - Mt Zues - Hiking

 

For my first Island stop I chose Naxos because I had never heard of it and my guidebook said you get a lot of bang for your buck. I didn’t bother to try and book anything for Naxos and figured I’d probably camp. Upon more consideration I wasn’t too thrilled about how tents in a campground are lined up under covering looking like parking sites in an apartment complex. I feared the noise of young college aged partiers with the walls of the tent giving no respite from unwanted sound.

It was a five hour ferry ride to Naxos from Athens. There were not many people on the ferry and when I stepped off I somewhat expected to be hounded by touts from various accommodations. Well, there were plenty of people holding up signs but all were confined to a couple of specific areas. I suppose there use to be problems with aggressive hawkers but not anymore. A couple tried to get my attention but I failed to make eye contact and walked on past. I then headed straight up to the old town that sits above the harbor. I figured I'd first check out a place the guidebook suggested.

As I walked up a narrow way between century old buildings turned tourist shops I noticed a hotel sign. The manager, a nice middle aged Pilipino woman, saw me and asked if I needed a hotel. Well, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a look. She led me up steep narrow spiraling steps to a Pension with six rooms that had just been refurbished for the season. Old and simple but clean with marble floors and character gave me a good feeling about the place. I asked how much and she responded by asking me how much I wanted to pay. For a moment I had an India flashback. Usually the question is a sign of some degree of desperation. I had expected a decent room with private bathroom would run $40 euros up. Again, she asked what I wanted to pay but I wanted her to come up with a figure first. I then told her I liked the room but would like to check a couple of other places first. She then said $25 euros and commented I wouldn’t find anything cheaper. I figured I wouldn’t and took the room.
About fifteen minutes after arrival my accommodation was set.

Naxos is absolutely beautiful. The ferry docks at a nice harbor with the old town Kastro sitting atop the village of Chora spilling into the sea. The waterfront is café and restaurant lined with open air seating. Shade is provided by awnings, tents, plants, etc. It’s definitely touristy but done well. It's easy to escape the tourists just a few steps inland. My hotel sits within but aback of all the bustling tourism. Logistically it’s a good base for me.

After getting situated I went to a restaurant and watched people walk by, with sailboats gently bobbing in the background, while deciding what to do the next day. I then went for a swim in a nice little protected harbor about a five minute walk from where I’m staying. I searched the sky for a cloud but couldn’t find one.

With a mountain named Zues rising above all other mountains on Naxos and the highest peak in the Cyclade islands of Greece I absolutely wanted to hike it. That was my first objective. I know most everyone comes to the Greek Islands for the beaches, water, night life, and idyllic villages but there is some fantastic hiking that you don’t hear much about.

Today’s hike started with a with a three minute walk to a bakery and bus. I asked the bus driver to drop me at a road leading to a chapel above the village of Filoti. I was happy to find a decent hiking map the day before. I wasn’t sure how well the paths and routes would be marked. A short road walk led me to a chapel. I was happy to see an established trailhead and it appeared as though the routes would be marked by a route number plate and or red paint circle here and there on a rock.

With no problem I found my way to a broad ridge on good trail to rocky ridge to the fine summit of Zeus for a nice view. From the top I descended a different route down into a steep rugged valley with Zeus’s cave. Past a lovely collection of springs contained by stone built pools under large shade trees I found a quiet road which I followed to Filoti. From Filoti I found a well-marked trail back up to the Chapel where I had started the hike up Mt Zeus. Passing the Chapel I descended a different direction, with the sound of goat bells across the valley. I reached the very quiet village of Dankos and began climbing again. Above Dankos I arrived at the 6th century Monastery known as Fotodotis. I stopped to talk with an older French couple who was also walking and went in to the old Byzantine styled place of worship that was being watched by a Greek Orthodox monk. From there I hiked past olive trees and goats grazing with the sea and small islands to my right. Further along I reached the village of Apiranthos, known for it’s old villas. My walk ended there as I sat outside a small café under shade. I caught a bus back to Hora at 4:30 and went for a swim.

I saw a few clouds early but they all went away. It was an absolutely beautiful day. I am really enjoying Greece and am very glad I chose to travel this direction. Tomorrow I’ll walk and swim again. With a good map there’s not much problem getting around by foot and bus. The hiking and walking routes are adequately marked as long as one pays attention.

From England To Greece

I spent Saturday afternoon, after finishing the Coast Path, trying to decide what to do next. I originally planned to hop over to France after the walk but part of me really wanted to go somewhere I haven’t been. After doing laundry I spent time on the laptop mulling over options with varied indecisiveness. From London it’s easy to get anywhere in Europe reasonably.

I had intended to go to France for the Django Jazz Festival as I did last year but I was kind of aching to do something new. I then started thinking about money and questioned how much I’m really into traveling right now and thought of maybe cutting it short and returning home. I then pondered some other varied ideas involving more hiking etc. which started to confuse me. All along the thought of Greece was in the back of my mind. A switch from chilly windy English coast to warm and sunny islands seemed to strike my fancy the most. Within three hours I made a decision and booked a red eye flight for Monday night from London to Athens.

I was sort of having second thoughts Saturday evening but by Sunday morning I booked a hostel in Athens for two nights and started looking at ferry schedules for Island hopping. I guess my hesitation was in the switch from super easy travel with the simplicity of a daily hike to having to be a little more on my toes in a new environment. I didn’t much take into consideration the financial crisis which could throw a monkey wrench into the whole thing but I’m sure it will be ok.

I decided to layover Sunday in Minehead because it’s half the price of London and the bed at the B&B was really comfortable. Monday was a travel day with a late departure out of Heathrow to Athens. It all started with a bus from Minehead to Taunton then a train to London Paddington. From Paddington it was the tube to Heathrow where I arrived quite early figuring I’d take advantage of a United Club Pass. The club was a good idea but getting from my flight terminal to the club terminal is a bit of nightmare and complicated to I settled for a land side terminal 5 pub with a video fire place.

My flight on British Airways left on time and arrived a little early in Athens right at 3 am Tuesday morning. I collected my bag and went through immigration which was nothing, just a scan of the passport and a quick stamp. From there I figured I’d find somewhere in the airport to sleep until the sun came up as many were doing. I dozed a little here and there as I roamed about a bit. By 7am I was on the metro and by 8am I arrived at the hostel. I'm not really much of a fan of city hostels in particular but the one I booked is fantastic.

Check in wasn’t until 1 pm but I was able to put my pack in storage and was told to go ahead and have breakfast. Breakfast is included as is the case throughout most all of Europe when it comes to accommodation. The attendant told me to relax a bit and afterwards he would tell me where to go.

After filling up on fresh fruit, greek yogurt and museli. I got some advice from the attendant and went straight to the famed Acropolis. Well, the Acropolis with the Parthenon and all is pretty impressive but the boat loads of tourists really dilute the experience. Once I got past the fact that I was just going to have to share the site with half the world I began to appreciate it a little more. One real damper was all of the scaffolding and equipment that is currently set up doing restoration work. Of course being mid-morning on a Tuesday didn’t really mean any work was being done at the moment. It seems like half the time I visit similar sorts of places there’s scaffolding set up with no one working.

Anyway, the views of Athens from the hilltop upon where the Acropolis sits are fantastic so I took my time getting the most out of the $12 Euro entry fee. With the gazillions of people who visit the Acropolis every year I figure if Greece raised the entry fee to $20 Euros and the money actually went to the government, the Greek debt crisis could be remedied within a few years.

From the Acropolis I spotted a monument on a hill a short distance to the south. After exiting the Acropolis I walked over to the other hill where I hiked to the top to check out the monument. Just a few people were there, the views were splendid, and there was no entry fee.

I returned to the hostel around 1 pm to check in, shower, and take a nap before finding a nearby locals restaurant for lunch. As I sat at a table along a pedestrian way talking with a couple of Greek ladies sitting next to me I started to get a feel for Athens and Greece. The waiters were relaxed yet attentive and nice. I finished one dish and ordered a salad. The bill came and my change should have been $10.70 Euros but the waiter rounded up in my favor bringing me $11 Euros. In Italy it would have been shorted to $9 Euros. I didn’t notice anyone tipping but I tipped the waiter a Euro which amounts the standard 10% European custom when being served, however, I don’t think it’s expected at a locals joint during lunch in Greece. Anyway, I'm liking the vibe.

So, the general plan is to spend tomorrow in Athens and hop an early ferry on Thursday to some island. As far as the Greek debt crisis goes I don’t think anyone is too worried about it. I asked the attendant at the front desk of the hostel what he thought about the current crisis. He didn’t seem too concerned and stated how Greece really wants to work with Europe on the matter. As I sat outside the restaurant today I didn’t sense any tension or anything like that. It just appeared as though Zorba is still alive and well.

The End Of the Coast Path

Today I reached Minehead, the northern terminus of the Southwest Coast Path. It took me three separate trips to complete the total 630 miles end to end. The first segment I walked in 2011 from the southern terminus of Poole to Teignmoth which is a little over a 100 miles. Last year I returned to the Coast path in Teignmoth and continued on to Perranporth which covered over 300 miles. This year I picked up where I left off last year to finish in Minehead. The Southwest Coast Path is Britain’s longest continuous national trail at 630 miles.

I more or less took 15 ½ days to reach Minehead with two days off which made for a relatively relaxed pace for me. It proved to be the perfect amount of time. With two weeks of hiking in my legs it was an easy jaunt for the final nine miles from Porlock through Bossington to Minehead. Porlock and Bossington are both very nice and quaint with thatch roofed homes and tea houses specializing in cream teas.

I didn’t much care for the farm campground in Porlock. Although nicely located, it’s a bit of racket with hardly anything to offer for the 8 pound price. It was relatively crowded with a school group in an adjoining field. Facilities were minimal. I offset the camping fee by scoring on a large portion of cheap yet good quality fish and chips in the village.

The previous day's hike from Lynmouth to Porlock was mostly forested through blooming Rhododendron, however, the trail has not been maintained very well. With all of the tall grass and such it turned out to be tick heaven. By the end of the day I picked seven small deer ticks off of me. Luckily none had a chance to dig in. I asked at a local at a pub if Lyme’s disease was much of a problem in the area. The bartender said it was around but not too common. Needles to say, I don’t like ticks.

Today I checked in early at a basic B&B in Minehead. I may layover another day just to rest and take it easy. I spent the afternoon mulling over what to do next as I still have more time before I fly home in July. So, I devised a plan. I figure it’s time for something completely different. I’ve spent enough of time in England and have enjoyed plenty of Ale, Fish and Chips, and beautiful scenery. All in all I've been pretty lucky with the weather which is always a variable in the UK. I’m now after consistent sun and different food in a place I’ve never been.

Into Exmoor

The logistically well placed overpriced not so desirable campground in Chivenor worked out fine but I was happy to be on my way early the next day. Whereas the path had been following an inlet for more or less 20 miles I was anxious to return to actual coastline with proper cliffs and all. I passed through the dunes of Braunton Sands as I rounded out the inlet with the long beach of Bruanton Burrows stretching south to my left as I traversed the side of a ridge with a fine view at low tide.

I stopped for a coffee at Croyde Bay, a seaside community with a surfer vibe. From there it was on to Woolacombe, a desirable beach town. I had a look around Woolacombe and a pint at Captain Jacks Pub before ascending a side trail gradually up a valley to a campground with a fabulous view.

The campground is a little more than just a campground. It’s a holiday park with full store, two pools, arcade, pub, restaurant, and a children’s club. All things considered it’s a cheap place for a walker with a tent at 6 ½ pounds for the night.

To keep things easy I figured I’d just grab a curry for dinner at the campground pub which I did. After ordering at the bar I noticed the music was quite loud and of the dance club genre with a heavy monotone beat. I also noticed a stage, dance floor, and disco ball. I took a seat off to the side for and ocean view. Not much longer after I got my curry a woman took the stage as kids starting appearing out of nowhere. Before I knew it a campground mascot showed up looking like something you would see at Disneyland. It kind of looked like a chipmunk. The music banged on with the host breaking in for comments and asked the kids questions like what they did during the day and where they were from. One kid commented that he was from the moon. I thought that was pretty funny.

I hoped the kiddie entertainment would pass quickly but it wasn’t. As it turns out I think that was the idea. Give the parents a break while they order slightly high priced food and drink. Holiday parks offer a variety of camping options from permanently affixed caravans to plain and basic tent sites. They tend to be family oriented and in July and August can be a total zoo. June is still a pretty quiet month as the bigger kids are not out of school yet. The campground was still mostly empty. It didn’t take long for me to find my way of the pub club. I’m just not wired for the kid thing.

I stay at commercial campgrounds for the convenience, affordability, and a hot shower. I could wild camp but I don’t mind paying a few dollars to have a good place to pitch my stuff without worry and shower before roaming a village or finding a pub for the evening. Wild camping usually entails pitching camp late and leaving early in a discreet fashion. It’s not like wilderness camping in the USA. During the summer season you can find campgrounds all over Europe with ease.

When I woke up the next morning in Woolacombe, as they say in England, the weather was filthy. It was raining with a thick mist and fog. Good ‘ol English weather. Of course a walk in England is not complete without foul weather. I packed my wet tent and made my way out of town around Bull Point. Wind, fog, mist drifted around cliff, rock, sea, and very green vegetation. Despite bad weather there was still a beauty to it all. A little over 8 miles later I reached the town of Illfracombe where I stopped at a café because I was craving a full English breakfast and coffee before continuing on to Combe Martin.

I was under the impression that Combe Martin was a quirky place so I definitely intended to stay there. Although the weather was improving a bit it was still windy with more rain forecasted. It was all the more reason to choose a wonderfully quirky B&B for 25 pounds in a Victgorian row house full of old stuff run by an older hippyish artist couple. Sometimes a quirky B&B really is like staying in someone’s personal home and the one in Combe Martin was exactly that. The riddle is to know where you are welcome and not welcome within the household.

B&B in the USA tends to mean Boutique foo foo for a romantic weekend with a generally high price tag similar to a hotel. In Europe B&B can mean anything from Boutique to simple, practical and no frills. I often find B&B’s to be a great value in Europe. Anyway, 25 pounds got me a comfy homey room with shared facilities but I was the only guest.

After checking in I headed to an interesting pub I had heard about. The Pack of Cards pub in Combe Martin is supposedly designed mathematically to resemble a pack of cards and was built in 1690. However, a local informed me that is not really the case but it’s a beautiful old building nonetheless with 3 foot thick walls made of cobbles etc.

The local guy spoke with a deep low voice but had a boisterous laugh. I couldn’t understand everything he was saying but I could tell right away he was curious about me. It was also obvious that he was recovering from seahab as he works on ships and such. No drinking allowed while working at sea. From what I gathered he’s spent his life working on aboard boats and he said he had worked himself up to being an engineer. He knew Houston because he’s been to the ship channel but not the actual city. He fancy’s the Gulf Coast and told me he’s spent time in Savanah, Georgia. Anyway, we talked about politics, social issues, and the problems with so many Africans immigrating to Europe. That seemed to be his biggest complaint. He bought me a second pint but after that I had to leave otherwise I knew I’d be in trouble but I met several other locals before leaving. I must say I give Pack of Cards a thumbs up in the local hospitality department. It’s very friendly pub full of good characters.

Today, Thursday, was a five star hiking day as I entered Exmoor National Part for my final 35 miles. The weather was perfect and the scenery stunning and dramatic. The only hitch was the mile long uphill road walk to a campground above Lynmouth. Of course when I arrived at the campground next to a river I noticed what appears to be a forest trail back down. Anyway, there’s a pub right next to the campground that specializes in Thai food. My tent is pitched and the Ale is good.

Clovelly To Chivenor

I left Clovelly Sunday morning feeling well rested, well fed and ready to go. The skies cleared early and the weather turned perfect as I followed a forested ridgeline to open hills lining the shore. The hills gave way to beach as I passed through the touristy resort town of Westward Ho! From Westward I passed through dunes before reaching the colorfully painted row houses of Appledore. In Appledore I picked up a few supplies and headed on another mile to a farm campsite.

Knapp farm turned out to be an outdoor education center of sorts. I knew where the farm was but had a little bit of trouble accessing the property while navigating farmers field, sheep, and fence. One of the instructors who appeared to be in his mid 20’s saw me from afar and I got his attention by waving. I asked about camping and he said there was a place I could camp. He then pointed to where I could get over the fence. From there I followed him over a gate and he walked me through the property.

The property consists of a very large old house set up like a hostel to house groups. There was also a ropes course some other buildings and mobile homes for staff. As he walked me to where I could camp I asked what the charge would be. He wasn’t sure and informed me that the boss man wouldn’t be back until late. I told him I’d be leaving around 8. He laughed and said I’d be gone by time anyone came around but to check with the office before I left.

The area where I camped was really quite beautiful underneath some very large old trees next to a sloping meadow. The field just above me was littered with permanently set caravans of varying age and condition. Only a few of the caravans appeared to be currently used. The campground facilities were basic and not well maintained. It kind of seemed like a partially functioning unadvertised sort of a campground. Since there were no groups on property and things were very quite I found facilities easily available at the house for a shower, toilet, and water.

As I’ve been walking the Coast Path I’ve often thought what a wonderful tick habitat I’m passing through. Especially in early summer. Ticks don’t seem to be particularly common in England but as I showered I found two of them. I was happy to catch them before they dug in as they were the small type that can carry lymes disease.

Although my campsite was quite nice at the farm I slept horribly due to super noisy birds in the wonderful large old trees. I’m not sure what they were. I left the farm a little after 8 am and passed by the office to see no one there. I really wouldn’t have minded paying but I don’t really think it made much difference. I took it as a gift and made my way back over the gate, over the fence, past the sheep, and back to the Coast Path.

At Bideford the Coast Path picks up on a paved rail trail that I followed all day under what would turn out to be perfect weather. Lots of sun, not too hot, and barely any wind. I also met two older ladies that have been doing sections of the Coast Path for ten years and they were just starting their final section to the end at Minehead. They are packing light and staying at B&B’s in the villages along the way. They plan to finish on Saturday as I intend to so I will likely be seeing them off and on all week.

I completed today’s walk about a mile short of Braunton in a place called Chivenor. Logistically it works out perfectly for me and after 16 or so miles I was ready to stop as my left Achilles is giving me trouble. With today's walk passing through populated areas my choices for camping are a little limited.

Chivenor Caravan Park is not a particularly pretty place but it’s ok. It’s a bit run down. The facilities are adequate but not great. It’s more like a residential trailer/caravan park that poses as an overpriced holiday campground. I imagine during busy times they get business but during times like these it’s the odd bird like myself. The upside is that the woman manager, a little rough around the edges, couldn’t be nicer and more accommodating. Since the campground is located right next to a busy A road I asked if she might be able to make an exception and allow me to pitch one night in a more desirable unofficial spot. It would be much quieter. No problem.

As it turns out the campground really isn’t so bad. I got dinner from the gas station across the street and the showers have hot water. Also, the drinking water tastes good. With no screaming birds I'll likely sleep great.

No Need To Rush - Life On The Skids

Since I’m not traveling on a tight schedule I planned to leave myself open to staying an extra day anywhere along the Coast Path if I felt like it. With the charm of Clovelly and very affordable super comfortable accommodation I decided to stay put and not hike today. Plus, the Achilles tendon on my left foot has flared up a bit and the weather is gray and windy.

The owners of the B&B in Clovelly are named Jane and Derek. Only a vacancy plaque above the entrance door marks their home as a B&B. There’s no other sign, website, or anything like that. I don’t even think the Bed and Breakfast has a specific name. I was the only guest last night. From what I understand they don’t really want to be too overburdened with too much business. This morning Jane fixed me a huge breakfast, as much as I wanted, and then some. I talked with both of them for awhile over breakfast and feel like I’m visiting relatives or friends.

After breakfast I went for a short walk up to a church that dates back 800 years and roamed around the village area. I discovered that the village was originally settled sometime during the 1200’s. I also watched some guys load up wood railed sleigh like skids at the top of the village. Sliding them up and down is the only regular way to get supplies and such to the businesses and residences. They seem to slide well on the old cobbles. The smaller skids appear to work fine for one person but the larger skids require two people.

From what I can tell I should be able to reach Minehead at the end of the Southwest Coast Path in a week pretty easily, however, I’m enjoying the journey. No need to rush the destination.

Clovelly, On The SW Coast Path

The bad weather never materialized overnight at Hartland Quay. Just a little bit of light rain. After finishing a full English breakfast it only made sense to continue on as the clouds were light with sun and blue sky showing through. It seemed kind of silly to be so cautious about the English weather as I’ve hiked through plenty of wind and rain on past walks. However, the weather service had issued an alert for potentially severe weather and locals were talking about it. To me it looked like a nice day to hike.

As it turned out it was a very nice day to hike. The skies were a little variable and overcast but not bad. The air was relatively warm and humid but not what I’d consider hot. I made good time enjoying the views off to my left as I rounded Hartland point and followed rolling ridgeline with cliffs to one side and farmland to the other before entering forest as I neared the old fishing village of Clovelly. I covered the planned 11 miles quickly and easily.

Clovelly is probably one of the most interesting old fishing villages I have ever visited in England. The Coast Path passes the top of the village at a large parking area. The village itself is constructed on a steep hillside with one main cobblestone street dropping down past shops and residences to a harbor with a hotel pub at the bottom. Cars are not allowed nor do I think it would even be possible to drive up and down the cobbles. I did notice a proper side road that appears to access the harbor some kind of back way.

Clovelly caught my interest right away and I definitely wanted to stay in the village for the night. I noticed a hotel near the top of that was advertising a good rate with vacancies. I wandered down a little further and checked with a couple of B&B’s which can be a good value in England. Cornwall and Devon tend to be expensive but I was able to find a very nice room with a view for 30 pounds. Of course a full English breakfast is included. Since the only way to accommodation is by walking up and down the steep cobbles I think it keeps demand and price within reason.

The older couple who owns and runs the B&B are extremely nice. The husband was working on their impressive Garden when I arrived. He had also just repaired the hot water so asked if I could wait an hour or so before washing up. I dropped my pack and headed down to the harbor where I found a smoked mackerel sandwich and tried to compete with German tourists for a pint at the pub but lost. The pub was just too busy and the Germans kept cutting in front of me so left and went up to the pub at the top of the village where a couple of guys were wheeling fresh ale down the cobbles on a kart.

By 3 pm all of the tourists were gone and the village is now very quiet. The owners of the B&B say the building is over 600 years old but the village is older. It’s now raining but it just looks like typical English rain to me. Typical English weather is on the forecast.

Back To My 'Ol Hiking Self

Not to sound too cliché but what a difference a day makes. After a bonafide do nothing day in Boscastle I set out the following morning covering the 17 miles to Bude feeling like my old self. Today I blew through the 16 mile stretch from Bude to Hartland Quay, considered to be the toughest section on the Southwest Coast path, feeling like a million bucks and hiking like a rocket. It was kind of strange in a way how much better I feel. It’s that dramatic. The soreness in my legs and knees is gone. Energy is up as well as the enjoyment factor.

There’s not much to Hartland Quay except for a beautiful rocky seaside setting and a couple of old buildings that remain from the days of fishing and trade. Sometime in the late 1800’s one of the buildings was converted into a hotel pub and that is how it remains today.

Of course the first thing I did upon arriving at the Quay was to hit the pub for a pint with fish and chips. I figured after that I’d hike up the road out of town to a farm with a campsite located a little less than a mile away. On the other hand, the forecast is looking grim and the hotel is very reasonably priced. I debated taking a room while I finished my pint. Not wanting to hike up the hill to a potentially blustery campsite I chose to get a room. The stunning setting and reasonable costs coupled with a very hospitable staff made deciding to stay all the more desirable. Also, a full English breakfast is included.

The hiking has been really good with sections of rugged steep trail cut between gentler slopes along a grassy cliff edge. The views are expansive with the sea always just to my left as I walk in a northerly direction. From Boscastle to Bude the skies were sunny. Today the skies were overcast and gray but it was still a decent day to walk. The wind? It’s always blowing at one extreme or another.

The weather is supposed to turn really bad tonight and last through tomorrow so I’m somewhat inclined to stay put if the weather is really bad. I have the time and it’s no fun hiking along exposed sea cliffs with severe weather. A little rain and wind is ok but they are forecasting a potential for hail and lightning which is somewhat and oddity for this part of England. Anyway, English forecast are notoriously fickle so I’ll see what it’s like in the morning.

Boscastle - Much Needed Rest Day

It seems kind of foolish not to walk when the weather is beautiful in England but when I woke up Tuesday morning that’s exactly what I felt like I needed to do. Despite clear sunny skies and what would be considered a five star weather forecast, despite an unrelenting chilly wind, I knew I needed a rare “Do Nothing Day”.

The hike from Port Gaverne to Boscastle offered some spectacular coastline hiking but sections of steep ups and downs with a stiff wind, that seemed to be blowing from all directions, had me feeling quite fatigued. Of course get re-acquainted to carrying a full pack wasn’t making things any easier and my legs and knees were feeling sore from the burden. I considered calling it a short day in the village of Tintangel but was put off by the overly touristy atmosphere. I continued on along the coast passing near the remains of a 7th century castle, hence the tourist attraction, stunningly situated nonetheless.

Five miles past Tintangel I arrived at my intended destination of Boscastle and chose to check into a hostel. The old fishing village of Boscastle is situated in narrrow river valley that feeds into the sea. In 2004 the village was hit hard by a flood but old world stone built engineering holds up well and today, aside of impressive flood photos posted in shops around the village, you would never know the area was more or less wiped out.

The hostel occupies one of the oldest buildings at the bottom of the village and it's one of the nicer ones I've stayed in. It's managed by the internation hostel organization known as YHA and they didn't hold back on the rebuild after the 2004 flood. Everything is top notch. I wound up sharing a roomy 5 bed room with one older fit retired gentleman from Bristol who is traveling around hiking sections of trail here and there. I've found the room to be very comfortable and slept great which made it easier to choose to stay another night.

Boscastle is one of those quaint seaside villages that's busy during the day with tourists popping in and out but after five it gets very quiet. Today I did well by holding true to my intention of resting. I visited the famouns Witchcraft museum which happens to be located next to the hostel. It's a very nice and extensive museum with a strange vibe and a large collection of items. One of the more interesting items on display is Allistar Crowley's silver chalice.

After the museum I had a full English breakfast for for lunch then took an hour long nap. Taking a nap in the afternoon and actually sleeping is rare for me. Tomorrow is supposed to be a nice day for walking and I should made it to my next stop at Bude without a problem. On Thursday the weather is due to change with clouds and rain moving in.

Obviously I'm a little more tired than usual but I know how fast I can snap out of it. I attribute my uncharateristic fatigue to flying overesas already tired, jet lag, and just plain getting used to carrying a pack again for a bunch of miles. Also, not to mention how much much a chilly wind can take it out you.

Hiking what I consider to be an average pace of 15 miles a day puts me in Minehead, the end of the Southwest coast path, in 10 days. However, I am planning 12 to give me a little buffer. I have plenty of time and can take as long as I want but I like to keep up a consistent rhythm of sorts. A long distance walk goes better with some kind of consistent routine.

Well, I guess I'll head up to the Cobweb pub for a pint and call it a day. I can go weeks without a beer at home but find it difficult to go a day in England witout a pint in a pub.

A Lovely Day

My campsite located on a farm just outside of Padstow was great and provided the best night’s sleep I’ve had since leaving Houston. I awoke with a stiff leg and sore right knee but brushed it off as being part of the break in period as it’s proving to be. Once I got moving, the muscles loosened from an awkward hobble to a normal walk. Perhaps I’m feeling my age a little but I’ll deny it as long as I can.

Today was a one of those days that reminds me of why I am doing what I’m doing. The skies were crystal blue clear with a slight chill in the air. Breezy winds kept me on my toes but were not knocking me over. Rocky black cliffs sprinkled with green falling into blue white washed waves bathing rocky shores with trail hugging steep sided hill equaled splendid views all the way. Spring flowers added a plus.

After covering 18 miles a day the first couple of days I decided to cut it a little shorter. I inquired at Port Isaac on a place to camp and was advised to check with the pub in neighboring Port Gaverne. At the pub I had a pint and talked with a couple of young Australian girls working the bar. One had actually been to Houston on her American road trip and related her enjoyment of traveling Texas and commented on how friendly the people are. The girls checked with a local man about a place to camp and I was directed a few minutes up the street to a farm that allows camping for 5 pounds. A flat field sheltered from the wind, a toilet with a shower, and a tap, what more do you need?

After setting up camp and getting a shower I returned to the pub for fish and chips where I almost passed out from the days physical activity combined with relaxation and pint. As far as the weather goes it looks like I’ll have a couple of more days like today until any risk of variable English weather returns. Hopefully luck will be on my side and I’ll have nice weather for the tougher bits later on.

Back On The Southwest Coast Path, England

Jet lag did a number on me this time flying over to the UK. I spent two daze walking around London and visited Royal Albert Hall, Hyde Park, Green Park, and took a couple of photos of the guards at Buckingham palace. On the second night I met my friend Kylie for a couple of pints at a pub and a Gourmet burger. London is as expensive as ever.

After two nights in London I caught the train out of London, Paddington to Truro. From Truro I hopped a bus to Perranporth and found a windy campsite for the night. I caught a break from the wind at a nearby golf course bar and struck up a conversation with a guy who was a buzz by recently seeing the Foo Fighters in Manchester with 65,000 other people. He pulled out his I-phone to show me surprisingly good and stable footage. I turned in for the night still feeling out of sorts.

The next morning I got to walking. Within few miles of choppy steps getting use to the pack again I slowly started to feel like my old self again. 18 miles later I wandered into Mawgan Porth and found a small compact campground called Magic Cove. All of the sites were full but the owners were very nice and asked another couple if I could camp just off the side of their site. The couple didn't mind at all and quickly offered me tea while asking where I was from etc. I finished the day with Fish and Chips and a pint.

Today I put in another 18 mile day feeling remarkably like I did last year except for some soreness reminding me that I haven't carried a pack and walked the miles since last September.

Tonight I'm camped in Padstow. My site is very nice and sheltered from the wind. The temps have been chilly in the 50's and the wind has been pretty fierce. The upside is that it's sunny. No rain.

Naturally, I'm feeling pretty tired this evening. More lively posts to come.....

It's 3:30 Am In Houston But I'm In London

The time between now and then passed rapidly ending in a foggy hue that woke me spinning a few times in the early hours. Nauseated by fatigue. Hard drive set steadfast on the game that makes money, known as my job, has left me wondering where the last nine months have gone. It's a competitive world and the only way forward is self-motivation, hard knocks, a little luck, and a bit of fun. At times I can be distracted and over focused almost to a fault. In turn it leaves me feeling disconnected from friends and other interests. However, the bank account is in good shape for the time being. There's always a trade off of some sort or another.

In the past nine months I made three trips to Colorado relating to family. Twice I drove the 2,000 mile round trip and once I flew.  On my most recent drive to Colorado in April I finally made a short side trip to Capulin National Monument. I've driven past it for 30 years without stopping. It's a small dormant volcano in northeast New Mexico. A road circles the mass rising near the top where a one mile hike loops the crater rim exposing fantastic views all the way around. At the time it was a brief stop, a highlight, a reminder of another life put one hold.

It's 3:30 am in Houston but I'm in London and its 9:30 am. I'm drinking a coffee looking out from a second story window at double decker buses on a narrow two lane one-way street lined with local shops, a KFC and a McDonalds. I really shouldn't be drinking coffee but it seemed like a good impulsive decision.

For assorted reasons I was a little apprehensive taking off for this trip but the flight was fine if not a bit long. The direct United Airlines flight from Houston can't be beat for logistics but the quality is not very good. Economy seats are tight and not very comfortable. The flight attendants do as little as possible and none seem particularly cheery. American carriers in general rank low when it comes to service these days and the morale at United seems to be particularly negative.

Upon arrival I took the Underground from Heathrow and dropped by the hotel I'm booked at for two nights. Hotels.com gave me a reasonable discount and the ratings were pretty good. It's located in part of London I haven't stayed before. It's close to the tube at Earls Court and walking distance from many worthwhile attractions. Check In is 2 pm so I'll fight the jet lag until the evening when fatigue either keeps me up tossing and turning or sends me into a deep restful sleep. You never know with jet lag.

The idea of this trip is to pick up where I left off last September. I'll return to Truro via train on my way  back to the Southwest Coast Path. From Truro I'll take a local bus to Perranporth, walk down to the beach, and find the path that leads 200 miles north to Minehead. In doing so I'll complete the final section of the 630 mile Southwest Coast Path of England. This will mark my third trip on the route which I will be completing in three sections. I have plenty of time which allows me the option of a relaxed pace if I so choose.