Clovelly to Hartland Quay, 18km, 725 metres of climbing

‘Walking is the answer. Who cares what the question is’

Today started off gently enough. A continuation of yesterday with a stroll through the woods of the Clovelly estate. Walking through a tunnel of rhododendrons we came across an ornate wooden pagoda-style structure known as Angel’s Wings, which was carved by a former butler of the estate.

More wandering through woodland and across open fields, avoiding the scary-looking (but presumably benign) steers of the estate. These ones were sitting down and just ignored us. Then a steep descent to Mouthmill Beach. This was once the haunt of smugglers but is now home to a ruined lime kiln, and, just off shore, Blackchurch Rock with its two sea-sculpted ‘windows’.

A steep climb back up to the top of the cliff and then, grassy field, gate, grassy field, gate, on and on for ages. In one field was a memorial to the crew of an RAF Wellington bomber that crashed at the foot of the cliff in 1942. One of the crew was from the RNZAF. Far off in the distance we could see a giant white golf ball on a tee. As we got closer it turned out to be the Hartland radar station.

Near the radar station was a temporary summer café so we stopped for refreshments. From here at Hartland Point (with an 1874 lighthouse) the coast turns south and the landscape changes to dark brooding cliffs with jagged fingers of rock stretching into the Atlantic Ocean.

More walking along the cliffs. We passed a memorial to the Glenart Castle, a hospital ship torpedoed by a German U-boat in 1918.  Of the 186 on board, 153 were lost.

The day was hot and sunny and by this time we were getting tired. The last 5 km were the toughest of the day with a succession of steep climbs and descents until we at last came to Hartland Quay, a lonely out post with car park, toilets, refreshments, and best of all, our hotel.

The hotel, converted from what were once stables and customs houses hints at the importance of this spot as a major port in the past. It had a quay like the one at Clovelly (see yesterday’s photos) but this was destroyed in a storm in 1887. They have a great bar for meals, The Wrecker‘s Retreat. They say this coast has approximately 10 ship-wrecks per mile.

So, are we now seasoned walkers? Acclimatised to our new way of life, our feet hardened, our backs strong, our legs like two solid tubes of steel? Not bleeding likely!

Legs tired, eyes heavy, more walking tomorrow: up hills, downs hills, up hills, down hills repeat.

Another couple of days and we will come right.