Porthollow - The Halfway Point

Sunday, August, 24, 2014

 

For the last 12 days I've turned myself into a hiking machine and I'm feeling it. At times I'm handling the full pack along with ascents and descents quite easily. Other times it just feels like a lot of work. Right now it's equalling up to me feeling pretty darned tired. The specatacular views, although acknowledged, are not being appreciated as they should. For this walk the odd appeal seems to be more the physical challenge with a little too much focus on the destination. Somehow it's turning out to be an odd meditation of sorts. If that makes sense?

Sometimes taxing physical activity can take ones mind off of everything as the focus becomes each step carefully taken along a rocky path. Breathing becomes the metronomic rhythm of an uphill ascent. Wind and ocean sounds become the background music. Distractions come in the form of tourist ridden towns or passing walkers. The goal relevant becomes irreleveant as one is lost in the moment of adjusting the pack with shoulders aching and feet sore. Just a few more miles. Nonetheless, I feel compelled to go on. Somehow it's all very rewarding, one way or another.

As each day is so full things are really running together. Polperro was an unplanned stop after two pints at the Blue Peter pub with a couple of retired teachers. The old fishing village had a lot of charm and a cheap B&B gave me reason to stay.

At a road crossing, where I briefly took a wrong turn off a designated pedestrian crossing, I met one of the meanist nastiest truck drivers you could imagine. I had just crossed Par Beach and was following my map pretty well but lost the trail. I found the trail again and noted I needed to take a left on a paved road, cross a bridge, and get back on trail as I had to pass through a small port town.

It became apparent fairly quickly I had made a mistake. I didn't have a good feeling. The road I was walking on seemed public at first. There were no other signs to suggest otherwise. I turned around to go back to the pedestrain crossing which I now knew I should have taken in the first place. As I retraced my steps a truck approached and the driver asked what I was doing. I explained I had taken a wrong turn. He instructed me that I needed to go back to the beach and went on to try and give me some advice about getting back on the Coast Path. I told him I was headed the other direction from what he was suggesting. He replied the Coast Path didn't go where I was going and went from being seemingly helpful to sternfully telling me I needed to get off the road which I was trying to do anyway.

When I was about 30 feet from being back to the pedestrain crossing another truck approached. It stopped abruptly as it flashed it's lights. The driver rolled down his window and very voilently started yelling at me that I had no authority etc. etc,,. I simply told him I was walking the Coast Path and took a wrong turn. I then ran to the pedestrain crossing where I flew through a gate and made my way to some houses. The driver did not follow. I literally thought he was going to hop out of his truck and beat me up, however, I'm pretty quick. Even with a pack. With adrenalin flowing I made it through the depressed port town of Par in a flash and was quickly back to walking quiet coastline.

If that was one extreme Charlestown was another. I had planned to camp at a small campground in the village but they were full with a quota of 12. I then asked an old woman in her late 70's, working in her yard, if she knew of a place to camp. She offered her back garden as well as a cup of tea. As it turned out she is the mother in law of the woman who owns the campground that was full. I think she was happy to have a foreign visitor and seemed to be very familiar with the Coast Path. She has been living in Charlestown for 55 years and we had a very nice coversation over tea in the evening. In the back of the house there was an out building with toilet, sink, and locked gate to the garden. I spent the evening in the village pub.

Portloe was another sleepy little fishing village. The attendant at the pub wasn't very helpful when I asked about camping but the B&B just up the road said I could camp in their garden for free. I ordered a full English Breakfast for the next morning and went to the pub for the evening. The Ship Inn serves up sub par overpriced food although the atmosphere is pretty good and the beer is fine.

From Portole to the campground west of Falmouth was a long day. It seemed like it was taking me forever and two ferry crossing took time. It was kind of ashame to blow through Falmouth but I wanted to make the campground before dark to get a shower and do laundry. Falmouth looks like a really nice place with sailing being a big appeal.

Essentially the three previous days were pretty long so today I cut it short in another sleepy fishing village, Porthallow. I decided to camp at a farm with a cafe called the Fat Apple. If I was looking for quiet I've found it. I had a good healthy late lunch/dinner of mixed salads followed by a large piece of Walnut Coffee cake. I then went down to the local pub for a couple of pints. Porthallow is the official halfway point for the Southwest Coast Path at 315 miles. So far on this trip I've covered 190 miles. I'd like to get another 110 for 300. We'll see. From here on out, aside of maybe one or two tough days the hiking looks to be very reasonable.

However, right now I'm feeling like I need a couple of easy days and a B&B. Especially

since the next couple of days look pretty lousey for weather.