After a lie-in on our day off, we returned to the town to do the tourist bit and wander about looking at the places that feature in the television series. Be warned, this is a very busy village with waiting times for almost everything. I couldn't get over the fact that there was no chemist in the village when everybody knows there is one and Mrs Tishell runs it. It is in fact a tearoom and it was chock o' block when we visited, so instead we went to the Chapel Cafe where, after a wait of about five minutes, we managed to secure a table and enjoy a pleasant lunch. Afterwards, we stopped down on the harbour where a scene for the Fishermen's Friends' film was being shot. It was odd standing watching the Scots actor David Hayman singing a wee song when you are more used to him knocking somebody's head off.
We didn't stay too late in the village as we were going out for a meal at night. Our host had used his connections to secure us a booking at the 15th C (1460) Saint Kew Inn out in the Cornish countryside and had agreed to drop us off and then come back for us whenever we we were ready to leave. I tell you, there was nothing our host and hostess would not do for us during our stay. We enjoyed another lovely meal in the beautiful, ivy-covered inn, set in a tranquil location. Afterwards, we sat in the gardens waiting on our return transport and just enjoyed the quiet of the night.
Almost from start to finish it is a walk of rise and fall, with a number of ascents and descents in the three hundred foot mark, hence the short mileage. There are about half a dozen gullies to negotiate over the whole journey. The good weather is scheduled to continue which is kind of nice if you like the sun, which I don't particularly. Having spent the last thirty years living in the shadow of the Grampian Mountains, the sun and I are not close acquaintances.
Port Isaac, Port Gaverne, Trebarwith Strand, and our destination of Tintagel are the only settlements we pass through and the former two are at the beginning right beside each other. Trebarwith Strand is towards the end. As a consequence we will have a packed lunch on the hillside and refreshments at Trebarwith and, carry snacks to see us through the remainder of the journey. The campsite (Headland Caravan Park) has a wee shop and can purchase any additional food supplies we need for an evening meal from there.
In view of the short mileage we had not hurried to be back on the road so the sun was well up and it was already very hot. The walk to Gaverne was pleasant enough but nothing to write home about. The village itself has an interesting history having been the location for a fair sized pilchard and herring fishing industry, boat building and the point of embarkation for the product of the huge slate quarry at Delabole, which lies six miles inland. Slate has been quaried there for over eight hundred years and continuously since the 17th Century. With all these interest, this tiny village was a major trading port until the arrival of the railway in 1893, a history you would not be aware of looking at it today. Before we left the village, we took the opportunity to post letters and postcards.
The scenery was stunning with an endless blue sky and the dramatic cliffs towering over a blue / green sea. Seagulls hovered on the thermals over the cliffs and beautifully patterned moths flittered on the grasses at our feet. One, a beautiful little thing that was buttercup yellow, refused to stay still for a photograph. We were both surprised by the lovely, detailed pattern of the moth as, like many other people, the only ones we know are those that live in the wardrobe. The walking underfoot was really good at this point on a firm, grassy path, the edges dotted with wild flowers and rough grasses. Further off the path flowering yellow and white shrubs shone in the sunlight. Looking along the cliff face we could see in detail some of the gorges that we would need to negotiate in the course of the day, the rise and fall seemed daunting in the distance.
It is a steep climb up and away from Jacket's to go on to Tregardock Cliff. The cliff walk, both here and on the previous Bounds Cliff offered an interesting contrast between the wild, rocky Cornwall coastline on the water's edge; a moorland vista on the landward side of the coastal path and later, in the near distance, a pastoral, inland landscape on either side of a glen, that previously I would have associated with Devon rahter than Cornwall. The beauty of the inland valleys and hills has been one of the surprising features of Cornwall for us, brought up on stories of its wild and rugged nature. Towards the end of Tregardock Cliff there is a feature called simply 'The Mountain' which when you see it on the map makes you wonder what is coming, but it is no worse than any other section.
In the short sections when we moved a little inland, it was akin to walking in the Angus Glens. We viewed a considerable number of really pretty little moths today that went up in their numbers as we wlaked thorugh the heavier grasslands and herbage. Moths , mind you, not butterflies. Different shapes and sizes, single and multiple colours, jazzy, geometrical patterns, they were exquisite little things, one a most lovely buttercup yellow, no bigger than the farthings I remember as a child.
At the bottom we were able to purchase ice cream and cold drinks and to use the public toilets. The area around the beachead was very busy with people bustling about and cars coming and going. One of the attractions is that at low tide there is an expanse of sand on the beach and access to lots of rockpools at the bottom of the cliffs. At high tide most of it disappears completely and that was the state of play when we were there.
We were pleased to find our campsite just on the edge of the village and relieved that it did have a wee shop where we could purchase additional supplies for dinner without having to go back in to the town. The first thing we did was to buy ice-cream and lollies and to sit in the shade at a picnic table and just watch the groundsman cut the grass, putting off the moment when we needed to pitch the tent. Eventually, we moved and took ourselves right down to the bottom of the campfield and took a pitch next to another picnic table where we would be able to cook and then eat our evening meal. The toilets and showers were about fifty yards away which augured well for the three o' clock trek.
While the walking today was not as difficult in relative terms as the three-mile section from Port Quin to Port Isaac, the heat had made it harder and we were more than ready to stop. However, it is in the nature of things that once you have rested, eaten, re-hydrated, showered, had another cup of coffee just for the fun of it, out comes the map and you start to plan the next day's walking. It's what Vagabonds do!