6/6 Totnes- Ugborough Beacon
Rain from the off- as I walk from my house to the bus and then the bus stop to the train station, and as I leave Totnes train station. Somehow seem to be packing my bag more than even my very first backpacking trip- what extra am I bringing, or what fear am I packing for?
On train down there's a few girls who'd been at a techno night all night, going home I think to Plymouth now. Complaining about the DJ being boring. Off the train I find the start of the trail, but feel tired, unorganised, wet and cold so I head into the town centre for a coffee & a moment to collect myself.
A bit anxious about navigation on this trip- I usually bring a paper map, but the area this trail covers would require two or three Ordnance survey maps combined. Email exchange with South Hams Ramblers reassured me that signage was good throughout. Sort of planning to wild camp each night, but already feeling this might be foolish. (Uncertainty about weather doesn't help.)
On the trail in the rain heading North-West out of Totnes, mostly woodland along the river Dart. Some ugly beauty in the ivy-heavy urban industrial fringe of the town and railway.
The Dart a transfixing deep black, like an Arctic sea. Trees heavy with rain bend branches down to tickling height.
Walking through a forestry plantation when I am terrified by the screech of a whistle from the South Devon Steam railway. With each mile I put in, the quieter each repeated whistle becomes.
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| Entering the forestry area near South Devon steam railway |
Have lunch on dirt by the river Mardle under the Devon Expressway overpass just outside Buckfastleigh, having a moment to try and dry out shoes, socks, coat. Another coffee in Buckfastleigh, where the cafe owner kindly offers to put my wet gear in the warm kitchen for my stay.
Steep ascent from Buckfastleigh up onto the moor where a relentless wind whips rain into my face, the only shelter occasional stream gulleys. All around me the rain being brought sideways by the wind across the moor. Among this weather I see my first lichen-hung tree of this trip, a gnarled old hawthorn.
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| A tree hung in lichen near South Brent |
Descent across the grassland of the moor into the Avon valley, by the reservoir & dam. After miles of woodland, meadow and varied moorland, the reservoir looks so stark and featureless that it feels like a generated part of Peach's castle in Super Mario 64.
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| The Avon Reservoir |
Handful of peanuts, smell of bracken, soggy gear, all mixing to give me a sudden sense memory of being on the Isle of Wight Coast Path, which I did during a storm last September.
Make dinner just outside South Brent, on a woodland path next to the river. Filter water at Glaze Brook, before re-entering the moor and making the sharp ascent up to Ugborough beacon, with amazing views now the clouds have gone.
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| The view as I climbed Ugborough Beacon |
7/6 Ugborough- Netton
Slept pretty well, despite being cold as the only windbreak beside my tent was the granite itself of the beacon. Got out the tent twice to put on more layers- decide that this is a lesson learnt, I will start tonight with everything on.
(Briefly- dream I had last night; I was in the police, but wanted to leave because of corruption in the force. I seek the advise of a childhood friend I have completely lost touch with. They give me a load of celeriac to leave with. There's a massive dispute outside as the council attempt to put up scaffolding on their neighbours house. I get in a vintage sports car which is covered up in tarp, and can't unwrap the tarp- and wake up and see the outline of my tent.)
I eat breakfast as I make the descent through the fog towards Ivybridge, and make coffee in a sheltered area just off the Redlake Tramway- I find it bizarre imagining a tram, actual industrial transport, clanking its way along here.
The rain has gone, leaving the moor enshrouded in a slow-to-lift mist.
In Ivybridge the trail links with the Erme-Plym trail, following the course of the river Erme for a while. Near the village of Ermington I pass through a village with all sorts of livestock- alpacas, cows, goats, chickens, geese, and I'm sure I can hear a peacock somewhere.
I cross paths with a group of South Hams Ramblers, the group that created the trail, and chatted with Deborah, Alan and Henley about the walk. I was advised about crossing the Erme, which I had not researched properly, and I was also asked if I'd been attacked by a dog in a farm in Buckfastleigh.
Lunch & rest in a strange little space; a sort of portal between fields.
Skirt Yealmpton and follow the river Yealm for a while. Feeling very tired. They sky has felt odd all day, a harsh grey-white, but luckily holding off on raining for now.
Pass through Membland- very fancy, walking past a gleaming estate, huge gardens & grounds, with three teslas in the driveway. Sometimes I find in Devon or Cornwall these huge grand houses have a sense of emptiness about them, as if they are not really used, or, if they are, by so few people that the wasted space can be felt from outside.
Somewhat relieved to come to the creek at Noss Mayo. Finally have hit the coast (well not for a little while more but more or less.)
2 pints of otter in the Swan Inn while I plan my next move for the evening. (bit of a mistake, ended up quickly going to my head, and making me need to pee what felt like a hundred times before I made camp.) The pub is nice and lively for a Sunday evening, lots of local chatter about goings ons, so-and-so's, gig rowing. A band plays outside. I find myself sinking into a desire to just never stand up, to stay and absorb this warmth and these smiles. decorating a wall are t-shirts presumably from the local gig rowing club; "Yealm boys lost on Scilly" for example. Bar maid says "what a pavlova" and then the bar staff have a big conversation about pavlova & making desserts. God I wish I was back there now.
I find myself a little bit turned-around walking around Noss Mayo, as the creek is a bit unevenly shaped; I almost wander off to walk inland instead of following around to the coast.
Walking along a lane out of Noss Mayo that enters onto the first bit of the South West Coast Path I'm to tread this trip, a hare freezes in front of me and then bolts away.
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| First View of the Sea |
Walking a stupid pace now, knowing I have to get up very early to cross the river Erme, and trying to make it a campsite in Netton at a reasonable hour. Still, I try and enjoy the waning sun on the coast, the path to myself. I miss a short cut to the camp site and end up having to double back on myself, adding another 30-45mins to the evenings walk.
Lightly jogging down some steps at Stoke Beach, I feel a slight twinge in my knee, that doesn't last or really make me pay attention. Getting up late in the night for the toilet however, I felt a distinct ache in my left kneecap anterior which I would carry with me for the rest of the trip, and have to treat with ibuprofen to make it through.
8/6 Netton- East Prawle
Setting up the previous night, a frog kept trying to get under my tent. This campsite, the Orchard nook, is quite sheltered I think and as a result I am now too warm in my sleeping bag, which makes a change.
Wake up to my alarm at 3:45am. Kneeling looking around my tent listening to the rain, groggy and wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do. Sloppily pack up, using the shelter of the loo to finish in the dry, before setting off around 4:20am for Mothecombe, coming off the trail for a quicker, more direct route on the road via Longborough Cross. Non-stop rain.
Wet dawn- it gets light without you realizing. No other humans for hours, just the odd sound of farm kit and cows being moved somewhere to be used.
Make Mothecombe for around 6am, well within the first hour of low tide. The water is barely above my ankles, but still I change into trunks, which is worth it in the end as the rain soaks my legs. A bit of exhiliration, crossing the broad sandy estuary bed barefoot with the sound of the tide pushing back in, the dawn chorus of birds all around. The weather pushing up the broad open estuary straight at me. On the Wonwell side I promptly walk into a rock, cartoonishly flinging my arms out as I stumble. I carry a graze on my big toe for the rest of the walk.
Somewhere between Wonwell (opposite Mothecombe across the Erme) and Challaborough, I find an abandoned & locked up cottage by a beach, maybe an old coast guard cottage, and I curl up in the sheltered doorway and nod off for maybe 15-20mins.
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| Somewhere in the early morning after crossing the River Erme |
Spirits lift as I approach Bigbury-on-Sea. Finally shed my wet gear, and walk in a bit of sunshine. At Mount Folly Farm, I get a coffee from a vending machine and take a seat. It was bizarre looking back at the morning's walk, some five or six hours now; it was like remembering a long ago day. I must've been tired- I remember sipping my coffee, checking my phone for something- then looking up and wondering where I was.
Hit with flashbacks to a camping trip I joined near Bantham, age 17, with a group of friends I haven't seen in years. Just little moments, little glances that I suddenly think I looked this way at that once before. Odd sensation that the place is much smaller now.
Quaint ferry across the Avon- you have to wave at a cottage and ring a bell to be picked up. The ferryman waves and points at his desired landing point. Just me, him, and his black labrador, who stands almost statue still on the boat.
I lose a sock after walking barefoot along South Milton Sands. I retrace my steps twice but can't find it- either a dog took it or the tide did. Mixed in with all the seaweed and driftwood I had been earlier admiring as I strolled along. A little egret stands in a small ley above the beach.
Stop for lunch and brew a coffee on a bench just past Hope cove.
The weather warms into the evening.
Stumbling down the path near Soar Mill cove I startle a small adder that had been sunning itself on the Path. The first adder I have seen since I was maybe 10 years old.
Finally swim at North Sands beach, Salcombe, the first swim of this trip. Decide to get the ferry across to East Portlemouth immediately as they don't run into the evening, then walk along to Garra Rock, where I make the turn inland to East Prawle, where I camp for the night.
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| Headland some way after Salcombe, with great evening sun |
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| A lovely calm view from the campsite in East Prawle after the longest day walking |
9/6 East Prawle- Dartmouth
lots of tossing & turning in sleep. A bit cold. Flits of dreams, the memories of which in the morning tell me that I did sleep. Allow myself extra time lying in and a slow morning. Brief swathe of rain but the wind has opened it all out to a blue sky. (It would end up being the best day of the trip weather-wise.)
Chatted to the campsite owner about my walk, the area, where I've come from, and she graciously said 'this one's on us', and I promised I would return.
Wind rattling the thistles gone to seed above Horseley cove sounding like a soft patter of rain. Beautiful greens and blues as I come around Lancombe to Starting Point. The wind cuts out as I come around the lighthouse, the headland blocking the sou-westerly, the long stretch of Start Bay before me, looking calm and green. Memories of sideways rain coming onto Dartmoor two days prior feel like another lifetime ago. Satisfying to see headland at the estuary for the River Dart, and thinking Dartmouth is just up that estuary, my end point of the day. As lovely as walking headlands can be, sometimes it can drop your spirits when you emerge on the crest of one, only to look out and see another, and another...
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| View from Start Point of the bay, all the way across to Little Dartmouth |
Enjoy my longest lunch break at Beesands beach, with low wind and calm sea. Nice cold swim, but brief- as soon as I opened my eyes underwater I saw blue jellyfish. Looking back at the sea moments after getting out I saw a seal emerge, look directly my way, then disappear, never resurfacing for the time I was there.
Long meditative stretch Torcross- Strete, walking on the main road currently closed off to traffic due to storm damage. Odd but good feeling walking down a damaged road, with nature reclaiming the beach and surrounds, and cyclists and walkers allowed the full benefit of the tarmac. Felt like a longer walk with no rolling hills breaking it up. Nice Leys, dense with plants and birds. The colour green comes to mind when I think of Devon. I see a different kind of jellyfish washed ashore at Slapton Sands.
Find a pound coin on a log bench coming out of Strete. Felt like a little gift. Squashed lizard on a road, with azure blue scales on its sides.
Encounter a lone deer in a sloped field near Stoke Fleming. I walk the diagonal path across the field, the deer trying to evade me but circling back to the straight path I am on each time, shocked to see me each time.
Final sea swim at Blackpool Sands. A middle aged couple get their feet in the sea in delight, before the wife realises she can't walk on the shingles and struggles to get back to her shoes.
Stay in a room above a restaurant in Dartmouth. Back on the river. Shower feels like a baptism. Apart from 2 cafes, 2 pubs and the odd toilet block, I haven't been inside for 4 days. Feels quiet, surrounded. Church bell nearby strikes the hour 8 minutes early each time.
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| Arriving at Dartmouth |
10/6 Dartmouth- Totnes.
Nice looking morning so far, despite forecast for rain. Hoping for an estuary swim at Dittisham later.
Waiting at Coastal Trail Cafe by the harbour with coffee for nearby Boots to open so I can get blister plasters for my feet and ibuprofen for my knee, and it is beautiful out, possibly the best looking morning I've had so far.
Arriving yesterday I saw gig rowers heading up the estuary. I'd like to return here, I think. Moments where I imagine myself living here, and have to remind myself it wouldn't always look like this, this beautiful, sunny, quiet morning hour, (but it would sometimes, maybe even often and wouldn't that be enough?)
Lady kicking at tame pigeon scattering about on street outside café. The pigeon gets in the café, banging against the window, and no one seems able to figure out what to do; I go in, grab the bird and release it outside. The lady who had been kicking at it says 'poor thing'.
I've carried a splinter in my right index fingertip since work the previous week, a distinct pain reminding me that it's still there.
Sharp changes in surroundings now- tall sequoias outside of Dartmouth, tranquility by the creek, yellows, reds & pinks in meadows. Walking among wheat- feels nice brushing against my legs and hands. In an open field I briefly think 'this would be a terrible place to get caught in the rain'- and then, of course, it rains, hard.
Coming down to Dittisham, watching rainwater plummeting downhill towards the river, I decide against swimming in the estuary. Rest for a moment on a jetty at low tide in Dittisham, sitting about the muddy shore. Looking across the water, soft pops and crackles in the mud and seaweed all around me.
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| Lunchtime view at Dittisham |
Decide to have 2 lunches to use up the most of the food I brought with me, despite it being a bit early- I have one on the jetty, and will have one a while later. I take a sprig of rosemary from a roadside plant near St. George church, Dittisham, and put it in my water bottle.
Pint of otter in the Maltsters Arms. Got a bit confused and started going up the creek near Tuckenhay.
Coming through new (2018) woodland at Bow Wood, and already imagine myself walking here again in the shade and shelter of grown trees. The rain beautiful on the expanse of the river. Put my feet in the cold water as I eat a second lunch near Ashprington.
Skirt around Sharpham Estate, and then through some of the rewilded fields with large grazing herbivores, to make it back to Dart path. Again, I look forward to seeing the scene develop, the already tussocky and mixed field rolling down to the river.
I've seen some great trees on this walk. Majestic oaks in the estates either side of Totnes, beefy beeches in woodlands between grazing fields. Forestry plantations of tall pines or sequoias. Once, somewhere between Strete and Little Dartmouth, a blue Atlantic Cedar caught my eye. Towering non-native evergreens (such as Monterey pine) that line estates and farms on the coast, planted for a windbreak, dramatic especially in the rain.
Make it to Totnes with 4 hours to spare until my train ride. Feet killing me for final stretch. Could be choice of footwear, could be unnecesarrily pushing my pace for the first three days. I wander the town a little, trying to remember the feel of it, eat a dinner of half price pastries and then settle down at the Waterside Bistro, where I commandeer a table for myself, reading, scrolling, drinking coffee and beer, dozing a little.
When I come to the train station finally, the place I set off from, and from where the first path leads from, I have an odd and anxious sensation that I will unwittingly start on the route all over again, that my legs will act of their own. carry me across the car park, into Borough park and away... I suppose I could re-stock in Buckfastleigh... Bells peeling somewhere in Totnes. You've been kind.
(Two days later, back in Bristol, my girlfriend wakes me up; confused from her dream she asks me "where are we now," to which, with one foot in the realm of sleep, I reply "In Devon, near the coast," which of course didn't help her at all. I had apparently carried this 100 mile pocket of Devon back with me in dreams.)
A few notes from the Train back.
-We really have filled this country with a lot of cows.
-I become utterly transfixed, and almost a bit emotional, watching the view of the June setting sun over the Exe estuary as the train rides along the coast, via Dawlish and up into Exeter.
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| Aforementioned view from the train |
-On the coast path, on this trip and previous trips, I have often had an odd feeling passing those isolated properties, sometimes near a beach but often on a high headland or cliff, seemingly so inaccessible. I try to imagine a life in such a place, but struggle.
A Few Lists
Songs that got stuck in my head:
-Beastie Boys- Mix Master Mike (Specifically the line "D-double-O D-double-O STOP!")
-Elliot Smith- Miss Misery
-John Smith- Death and the Lady (I think I was thinking about how he was from Devon?)
-Birdskulls- Rolling Tongue (hadn't thought about this song in years)
-Slint- Washer
Birds Spotted (that I don't normally see):
-little egret
-yellow wagtail
-yellowhammer
-reed bunting
-common tern
Cafés & pubs visited:
-6/6 The Cornish bakery, Totnes; The Coffee House, Buckfastleigh
-7/6 The Swan Inn, Noss Mayo
-8/6 Mount Folly Farm vending machine. Bigbury-on-sea; The Pigs Nose, East Prawle
-9/6 Salcombe Dairy Beach Café, Slapton/ Strete
10/6 Coastal Trail Café, Dartmouth; The Maltsters Arms, Tuckenhay; Waterside Bistro, Totnes
Rivers
Just a final note; being in the presence of, or at least paying attention to rivers feels like visiting an old God, an icon statue still set in its throne. Walking alongside, crossing, swimming in, all feel like connecting with that deity. So I'd just like to acknowledge the rivers of this trip:
-The Dart
-The Yealm
-The Erme
-The Avon (Devon)
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| Cheers! |
