walking Archives - Page 5 of 11

Flodda

No seals, but plenty of rusting, old farm machinery.

Flodda (Flodaigh) is a small island attached to the north coast of Benbecula by means of a short causeway. I drove over the causeway and parked at the end of the road in the bus turning circle. A sign asks people not to park during the hours of 8.00 – 8.45am and 3.30 – 4.30pm as this is when the space is needed by the bus. An abandoned brown 3-wheeled car is perched at the side of the space rotting away.

Two tracks lead off side-by-side. The right-hand one leads down to the small peninsula where a resident seal colony can be found. Part way along this track is another abandoned car. This one has been put to use as a display board for the ‘Flodaigh Seal News’. An A4 map of the area showing the best walking routes and the best points to see seals (noted as Point A and Point B) is stuck to the inside of the driver’s window. On the dashboard is another A4 sheet giving information about the routes and the seals. It reported that the seals often beach themselves on the rocks during low tide, sliding back into the sea to go fishing at high tide. So low tide is the best time to see them. I had no idea what the state of the tide was, but as I’ve seen plenty of seals before and I fancied an evening stroll, I set off anyway.

As I was leaving the car to continue down the track a man came striding purposefully across the moor and over the wire fence. I said hello but I don’t think he even registered my presence. He strode past the car and down to the croft house from where a few minutes later I could hear him shouting ‘hello’. On my return I saw him striding out back across the moor. It made me think of times of old when people would have visited each others houses in this way. Now most people use a car, but maybe the old ways still continue for some.

A little further on the track splits, but a hand painted sign on the ground points the way to ‘seals’. A little further still another sign on the ground shows the paths leading to Point A or Point B. The information in the car had said that Point A was rougher going, so I decided to go that way first. Although it wasn’t particularly difficult going I was glad of my poles to sweep all the bracken away. A faint but definite path led the way through to the end of the point past several pieces of abandoned and well-rusted farm machinery.

There were no seals to be seen. I continued round the small headland and came to what must be Point B – I could see the path leading back. No seals here either. There weren’t many exposed rocks for them to sit on so I guess it was high tide and they were all out fishing. I walked back along the second path, which was much easier going, past more abandoned and rusted farm machinery, back to my van.

The walk was just over a mile in length so quite a good one to fit into a day spent doing other things. Although it was a shame not to have seen any seals, I have seen them before, and the walk was a nice way of getting to see a bit of yet another Hebridean island.

Bornais

Paddling cows, a broch and a tricky path.

Bornais is a rocky promontory, not quite an island on the west coast of South Uist. The promontory is used by the military for weapons training, but this is infrequent and there were no signs of it today. Literally no signs. I thought at least there would be warning signs advising visitors to heed notices and leave the area if asked, and so on. But there was nothing.

I parked by the church in quite a spacious car park. The church can be found by turning off the main A865 to the left at the signpost for Bornais. After about a mile the road curves to the right. At the curve is a left hand turn leading a short way down to the church.

The church is surrounded by farmland and machair, the sandy land which is a haven for wildflowers, grasses and butterflies. Seventy per cent of the world’s machair is said to be found in the Outer Hebrides and all along South Uist’s twenty-some mile long west coast is a waymarked trail called the Machair Way. This isn’t so much a trail to follow from end-to-end, but more a dip in here, there and wherever takes your fancy sort of trail. There are frequent signposts along the A865 pointing out narrow roads leading down to various access points for the Machair Way along the coast.

Getting out of my van, I chatted to an older man for a few minutes. He’s been coming here for 14 years and loves the scenery, but said he’s never been down to the end of the track to the promontory. Together we watched a herd of cows wander across the fields to the lochan next to the car park. One by one they all waded in and stood around for a few minutes having a drink and seeming to enjoy the refreshing coolness. It reminded me of scenes in Africa, in my mind I was substituting cows for water buffalo. After a few minutes they waded back out and several came over to the car park. They seemed to be real free-range cows just wandering wherever they felt like. I did notice the hayfields were fenced off though, presumably to prevent them from munching their winter feed too early.

I got my boots on and continued down the road, which quickly became a track, towards the promontory. I spent a long time wandering round the promontory and did a full circle. I came across an information board for a broch and a couple of other ancient building remains, but it didn’t say whereabouts they were and neither my walk book or the OS map mentioned them.

As I was midway round my loop of the promontory I came across the broch. It was quite easy to see the entrance and where the inner and outer walls had been. I saw no sign of the other building though. Each time I saw what seemed a likely heap of rocks I wandered over, but if it was an ancient building I was none the wiser and each heap of rocks did seem like nothing more than a heap of rocks even close up.

Leaving the promontory my book instructed me to walk over the dunes backing onto the long white beach. Apparently walking on the side would make it difficult for me to know where exactly to turn inland to see the remains of a castle. The dunes were really tough going however, with no clear path. I was really glad of my poles as I clambered around scaring rabbits left, right and centre. Eventually I came to a fence that extended right over the edge of the dunes and on to the beach. I couldn’t see a way down and so ended up having to climb over. I don’t like climbing over barbed wire fences at the best of times, but this was quite wobbly too. I realised I’d be better climbing over the fence that followed the top of the dunes and met the wobbly fence at a right angle. This was made of firmer wire and there was a gate on the other side which I could step on to, to help get down the other side. Once this was done I went through the gate and continued walking on easier ground on the inside of the dune-topping fence. I’m sure it would have been easier to walk along the beach and keep popping up on to the dunes to check for the nearness of the castle.

Coming to a second fence, I followed this inland to reach the ruin of Caisteal Ormacleit. This was probably the last castle to be built in Scotland. It was built around 1700 and burnt down in 1715. It’s not possible to go inside as the structure is unsafe and also a private house is built on to the side of it. I detoured as close as possible and took a couple of photos.

Then I followed a good path through the hayfields and machair back to the church and my van. The farmers were out in force gathering hay and making silage and I stopped to chat to one for a few minutes. He commented on the good weather that had been here over the past couple of months, unlike the rest of Britain which seems to have been under a constant deluge of rain. He said, if anything, they could do with some rain here now. I have noticed on my walks so far, how dry everywhere is, particularly ground that I’m sure for the most time would usually be very boggy.

This was an enjoyable walk that took me about 3.75 hours despite only being 5 miles. I spent a lot of time on the promontory and it was quite slow going along the top of the dunes. I noticed on the other side of the fence the ground seemed much easier and so if I was to do this walk again I’d stay on that side of the fence.

Wheelhouse, South Uist

On this short walk I discovered the remains of houses that had been lived in for 1400 years.

I’d spotted signs from the road for something called the Hallan Wheelhouses. I had no idea what these were but decided to investigate. Following signs down side roads and a track I parked outside a modern church with a large graveyard, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

I then walked down a sandy track assuming I’d know when I got to the wheelhouses. I did even though they weren’t signed. There were actually three information boards on the opposite side of the track but they had been placed on the ground behind a bit of a dune, so are not visible unless you go around there. I like poking around and so I found them.

The remains of the wheelhouses are thought to date to the early years of the first millenium. Archaeologists have found evidence of them being lived in for about 1400 years, some of the most continually lived in properties in Britain.

The houses are round and have thick stone walls with entrance passage ways and fireplaces. They also have burial places within them and bodies have been excavated. This seems to have been a way of honouring a respected dead person or as some sort of good luck charm. The houses are known as wheelhouses because of the round sides and spoke-like chambers leading of the main central room. Others have been identified in the area but many are buried underneath the drifting sands and these are the best exposed examples.

I could see that if I continued to follow the track I would have come to the beach, but as time was getting on and I’d only stopped for a quick look, I left and walked back the way I’d come.

The following day I followed a short walk in my walking book entitled ‘The Wheelhouse’. this started slightly further south than my walk the previous evening and at first I thought it might be a walk leading to the same wheelhouse. A check of the map showed that this was a different location albeit not very far away.

For this walk, I parked on the side of one of the roads I had driven down yesterday. I then set off across the machair and cultivated fields along a good track for about 1km. Coming to a crossroads of tracks I turned right along a distinct track though it wasn’t as good as the one I’d just been walking along. I knew the wheelhouse was somewhere off to the left along here and the book warned me it could be hard to see. I kept veering off to look at any mounds or hollows, but when I came upon the wheelhouse it was actually really obvious. It wasn’t as distinct as the ones yesterday, but was still clearly a wheelhouse.

I continued on my way turning right after a short way to head north along the dunes and the beach. Finally I left the dunes to join up with a path leading east and back to my car.

As I walked along this path I kept getting glimpses of the graveyard where I’d parked yesterday. If I was to do this walk again I’d join both together. Walking a bit further along the beach I’m sure I could have come inland at the sandy track I’d followed to get to the Hallan Wheelhouses. It would then have been a relatively short walk along the quiet lanes to get back to my car.

Eriskay

Bonnnie Prince Charlie, wild horses and whisky galore!

otter sculpture — Otter sculpture by Iain Brady at the Barra ferry terminal

Eriskay is the small island to the north of Barra and to the south of South Uist. It is about 3 miles long and 1.5 miles wide with a high point of 185 metres. The whole island is an undulating mass or rock, heather, bog and wild flowers. The ferry from Barra docks here and there are toilets and showers (£1 if you want a hot one) in the rather nice new waiting room at the pier.

Round the coast a bit, on the west side, are the two villages of Am Baile and Rubha Ban that sit side by side – I couldn’t tell where one finished and the other began. It is here that the Am Politician pub can be found. The pub is named after the ship, the SS Politician, that came aground here in 1941. To the islanders’ delight the ship was carrying a cargo of 20,000 crates of whisky to America. At any time this would probably have delighted the islanders, but as this was the wartime and whisky was hard to come by, this was like manna from heaven. The locals carried out their own salvage operation and although some islanders ended up in prison, customs and excise never caught up with the majority and it was a case of ‘finders drinkers’. The story was immortalised by Compton Mackenzie in his book Whisky Galore. The film of the book was later shot on neighbouring Barra.

The east side of the island is where the SS Politician actually came aground but this side has no tracks or roads or houses. It looks an interesting part of the island to walk over and Peter Clarke, when researching his book The Timeless Way, did just this and found faint tracks from years ago.

However, today I was just planning to follow a walk I’d found in a little walk book I’d bought in the tourist office in Barra. I parked at the pub and walked past the two graveyards stopping to investigate a couple of small beaches along the way. After the second graveyard the road forked and I took the right hand track which led to the larger beach known as Prince’s Beach as this is purportedly where, in 1745, Bonnie Prince Charlie first put foot on Scottish soil. He’d arrived from France and was on his way to mainland Scotland.

All the beaches on this side of the island are take-your-breath-away beautiful: white sand, silvery rocks, clear pale blue sea shimmering in the subdued light. There were clouds, but it was warm and there was no rain forecast. I followed what looked like otter tracks for a while – the tracks looked quite fresh, but I didn’t see any. I came up to the road at the far end of the beach near the ferry terminal.

Walking up the road away from the pier I came to the crossroads where I’d earlier turned left to get to the village. This time I turned right and walked a short way before cutting to the left, through a gate and along a track leading up hill to the water purification station. The track ended here but I could see a faint path where people had walked before me veering to the left. My walk book instructed me to walk straight up behind the station however, which I did, clambering over a few rocks in the process. I soon found a faint track again and saw a marker post. I walked out towards the small, still Loch Cracabhaig and then, still following faint paths on the ground and the occasional marker post, headed north through the rocky landscape and over the moor. The ground was spongy with heather and moss and in places quite boggy. Wildflowers were everywhere and these were attracting copious amounts of butterflies of different colours and varieties: red, brown, cream, pale blue.

I was tempted to walk up to the trig point, but decided against it as I was starting to get hungry and I’d not brought any lunch with me. I saw wild Eriskay ponies on the rocks above me. The ponies are native to the island and no more than 12-13 hands in height. In the past they were used to carry peat and seaweed around the island, but now they seem to be enjoying a life of permanent retirement. They are hardy and stay outdoors year round. The ones I saw were white, though I think there may be other colours. They have a different stature to Shetland ponies, being a slimmer build.

As the village came into sight the tracks and marker posts began to lead me downwards. I came out on the road but felt I could walk further on the moorland, so headed back up and descended again just above a roadside shrine to Our Lady of Fatima.

From here it was a short walk back to the pub and my van. The walk is only about 2.5 miles long but took me about 2.5 hours. This was because of my many stops to take photographs or just to stare at the amazing views.

Heaval

A steep climb led to my first sighting of St Kilda!

I climbed Heaval after a day walking on Vatersay. It had been hot and sunny all day and with barely a cloud in the sky and no haze the opportunity to ascend Heaval and see up and down the chains of the Inner and Outer Hebrides and possibly all the way out St Kilda was too good to miss.

I parked in the car park up the hill from Castlebay. At the side of the car park is a stunning house. Most houses in the Hebrides, as I’d also found in Shetland, are not particularly nice to look at. You wouldn’t go to either place to wander round quaint villages as you may do in the Cotswolds. On the whole the houses are functional boxes, often pebble-dashed.

But this house is something completely different. It has a stunning, uninterrupted view over the bay and the castle that sits in the harbour, and the house has been designed with the view in mind. The side facing the bay is almost all glass, with a soaring double height ceiling over the living room. Around the outside overlooking the bay is a large decking area. If I was to move to Barra, this would be the house I would want to live in. Actually, even though I have no thoughts of moving to the Hebrides at all, if I was offered this house, I think I’d move anyway.

Enough of the view of a house from the car park. I was here to see the view of the islands from the top of Heaval. By starting at the car park I was already part way up the 383 metres to the summit. The hill looks like a mini Matterhorn and seems to rise to a distinct point. It looks steep. Very steep. Just below the summit is a statue of Our Lady of the Sea which can just be made out as a tiny white speck from the car park.

view from heaval — See how steep this is?

Striding out from the car park, I crossed the road and came to a standstill. There was a barbed wire topped fence seemingly all the way along the side of the road. There was a gate but that just led to another layer of fence. Supposedly down the road a bit was a stile. As I was looking the guys from Kent who had been on my trip to Mingulay arrived, along with a girl from their hostel. Four heads are better than one and together we wandered up and down looking for a way over the fence. We did find a stile but it was so rickety it didn’t seem safe to stand on, let alone use to climb over a fence. Eventually we decided to go over the fence near the gate as there was a bit without the barbed wire.

Once over it was onwards and upwards. It really is steep and there is no set path, just lots of slightly beaten down bits bearing footprints that show which way people have gone before. Of course, following these can give a bit of false hope, as they could have walked that way only to have to turn back when they could go no further.

Ever so slowly, I picked my way through bog, heather and moss. I scrambled over rocks using my hands and poles for support. Eventually I got to the top and the view was amazing. I could make out Mingulay and the other islands to the south. Skye was clear to the east. But best of all, way on the western horizon, I could make out the islands of St Kilda. My first ever view of them. Now I want to go there even more than before.

First view of St Kilda on the distant horizon

Photographs taken, view admired, I started to descend. It was too windy and a bit chilly to stay at the top for long and I knew it could take me a long time to get down. It seemed almost like a vertical drop. I’m sure it would have been easier to abseil down. I detoured slightly to the statue and then continued picking my way down using my hands and poles again and sometimes sitting on my bum to get down the bits I knew would jar on my knees if I jumped down them.

Very inelegantly I got to the bottom. I had wondered how I’d fare getting back over the fence with no-one to lean on for support. The other three were much faster than me and I could see them getting back into their car whilst I was still mooching around the statue. The wire was quite wobbly to stand on and so it had been good to have a shoulder to lean on when crossing to go up.

Just before I got to the bottom I spotted another gate further down. This was a proper big wide gate, which if locked, would be easy to climb over. I headed for this and was able to open it and walk through. There was a little ditch to jump over, but that was it. Easy-peasy. I walked up the road and back to the car park where I stayed for a while looking at the hill I had just climbed, the view of the bay and castle, and of course my dream house.

Vatersay

Sunbathing cows, an old fort and a slice of wedding cake.

Vatersay is the southern most inhabited island in the Outer Hebrides. It is joined to Barra by means of a causeway. The island is shaped like an apple core with a thin bit in the middle and a chunkier section at each end. The middle bit has a glorious white sandy beach on either side. There are several other smaller white sandy beaches dotted around the island, several of which can be seen from Barra.

The day I did this walk was hot, sunny and almost cloudless. I parked near the Annie Jane memorial and started by walking up to the memorial. This is situated on the cliff by the right hand (east) beach on the middle thin bit. The Annie Jane was a ship taking emigrees from Liverpool to Canada which was wrecked just off the coast in 1853. Three quarters of the people on board, more than 300, lost their lives that day and many are buried on Vatersay.

Climbing over the stile by the memorial I crossed the dunes down to the beach. There were only two other people on it, despite it being a long beautiful beach, easily accessible, and such a nice day in the school holidays.

I walked to the far end and examined a low sea cave then backtracked a little to get up on the dunes and machair for the uphill trek towards the remains of Dun Bhatarsaigh, a 2000 year old fort. There wasn’t much to see of the fort, but the views of the surrounding area were magnificent.

The descent on the other side of the dun was decidedly boggy and I was glad of the footprints left by the man walking some way ahead of me. There were waymarker posts but these were not always in the driest of spots. Up over another hill and I was looking out for a standing stone. I went through what seemed to be the remains of a gate – one post remaining with a smaller rounder stone supporting it, and carried on up onto some flat high rocks with great views of Sandray to the south. I sat here for a while, enjoying the weather and the view and trying to work out where the stone was. I realised that it must have been the gatepost I’d seen. Not the most impressive standing stone I’ve seen but I went back to take a photo of it anyway.

The path continued over machair and down to another wonderful beach. This one was so nice even the cows agreed and they’d all come down to spend the day on the beach. Some were standing, others were lying around – all they were missing were beach towels and sun umbrellas.

As I climbed back up the other side of the beach I came across the man I’d been following and a couple who were walking the opposite way and had stopped to chat. It was the couple’s first visit but for the man, who turned out to be a very fit octogenarian, it was his twenty-fifth time. He’d retired at fifty and started leading tours to the islands. He only stopped when he turned 80 and the company he was working for said it had got too expensive to insure him. His tours were mainly with older people and fairly sedate, but he liked to get out walking whenever possible. He was knowledgeable about the islands and I walked with him a short way to the abandoned settlement of Eorasdail. There were only about four houses so this had been a very small settlement indeed and life must have been very hard. Now the cows treat the houses as their own and looked at me very suspiciously as I poked around them.

I walked to another small beach just past the settlement before heading up and inland across the slopes of Am Meall. I could see the modern day village which shares its name, Vatersay, with the island. About 120 people currently live on Vatersay, most of them in this village. I circled widely round the village to reach the beach on the other side of the thin middle bit. This beach was positively crowded by Hebridean standards with many families sunbathing, playing cricket or throwing sticks for their dogs. Walking the full length along this beach brought me to the village hall and a welcome pot of Earl Grey and a slice of wedding cake. The man I’d chatted to earlier was in the cafe and I sat with him whilst I drank my tea. I wondered if the wedding cake was left over from the wedding that had taken place in Castlebay on Saturday. The young couple on the boat to Mingulay had come home to Barra as it was the man’s sister who was getting married.

Mingulay

A day trip to this abandoned island included sea caves, basking sharks and a gannetry.

I made it to Mingulay. Last night I rang the boatman but I was only the third person to book onto the trip to this deserted island and he needed five as a minimum to make it worth his while. He told me that there was still time to get two more recruits and so I agreed to turn up this morning in the hope that he would be going. Continue reading “Mingulay”

Ilfracombe to Woolacombe

A beautiful day and a beautiful walk to finish my week on the South West Coast Path.

Saturday 9th June, 2012

My last day.

I had planned to leave in the morning and stop off somewhere along the way home. But as it dawned a gorgeously sunny and warm day, and as I still had what should have been the first part of my walk to do, I couldn’t resist sticking around and completing the missing link in my South West Coast Path wander.

Mortehoe

It didn’t take long to pack up and I was soon on the road to Woolacombe. I wanted to park in Woolacombe and catch the 8.30 bus to Ilfracombe and walk back from there. However, the big car park was closed – it didn’t open till 9 o’clock. I drove west along the front to the next car park which was open, but I knew I wouldn’t want to walk the extra distance on the way back. The roadside parking was all limited time only and so was of no use. Instead I drove to Mortehoe, a small village about mile to the east of Woolacombe and parked in the small car park there. It was about half the price of the car parks in Woolacombe and meant I got to see the village which I would have otherwise bypassed. It’s a quaint place with a few little shops, a pub or two, a church and a museum. I hoped to get back in time to have a look around the museum but in the end was too late.

Morte Point

Woolacombe

I bought a croissant for breakfast and walked down a lane at the side of the church to reach the coast path. Morte Point was to my right and Woolacombe to my left. I set off towards Woolacombe musing on the back-to-front-ness of my walk: I was walking the first day’s walk on my last day and the last bit of the day’s walk first. It might not be ideal but at least I didn’t have any annoying niggly bits missed out.

Ilfracombe

There was a bit of a steep downhill into Woolacombe and I was glad I was getting this over with and not having to do it when my knees were tired and sore at the end of the day’s walk. I was in good time for the 9.30 bus which took about half an hour to get to Ilfracombe.

Once in Ilfracombe I bought a sandwich for my lunch and wandered down to the seafront to look for the coast path. I could see where I’d finished walking when I arrived in Ilfracombe last year, but couldn’t see where the path continued. After a bit of wandering I got the map out and figured it out properly.

Leaving Ilfracombe

Tunnel Beach

The path left Ilfracombe by winding up through a residential area with regular panoramic views back to Ilfracombe. At one point, peering over the wall, I could see down to one of the tunnel beaches. These beaches are only accessible via a series of tunnels for which there is a charge. The beach I could see looked very nice with a decking area and loungers. It would probably be quite nice to spend a lazy few hours here on a hot day, so maybe I’ll check them out properly sometime.

Seven Hills

Walking towards Lee

The path then wound up towards the Seven Hills and zig-zagged quickly to about 140m. I stopped frequently to stare at the view and take photos. Leaving the Seven Hills behind the path followed the coast to join a lane leading into the hamlet of Lee. I got tantalising glimpses of the little shingle bay as I threaded my way down the lane and into Lee itself. I found a bench and sat here for a while chatting to a couple from Dorset. They usually walk the South West Coast in their own area and this was their first time on this part of it. They were very impressed.

A glimpse of Lee Bay

Bull Point Lighthouse

Leaving my bench I climbed steeply up the road out of Lee and onto a path following the rocky coastline. When I reached the gleaming white Bull Point lighthouse I knew I was on the last stretch of walk for his holiday. First I had Morte Point to go though. This juts out on the north side of Morte Bay and shelters Woolacombe Sands. It’s along here I’d been told I had a good chance of seeing seals so I walked slowly and spent a lot of time peering at rocks in the sea in case they moved and became seals.

Seal

Oystercatcher

Part way round I spotted my first seal. I watched it for a while bobbing about, disappearing and reappearing some way away. Then a second one appeared. They were lovely to watch, but moved far too fast for me to take a good photo. They seemed to sense when I was about to press the shutter and would duck under the water so I’d either get a picture of empty sea or a picture of a blurred blob.

An elderly man stopped to chat to me and pointed out an oystercatcher nest on the rocks. Both the male and female were around and taking it in turns to sit on the nest.

Morte Point looking towards Woolacombe Sands

Eventually I had to draw myself away and walk the last stretch along the coast before turning inland and heading back to the village of Mortehoe and my van. Turning back I had one last lingering look and one last photo before leaving the coast for this year.

Last look

Back in Mortehoe I treated myself to an ice-cream before starting the long drive back to Manchester.

Barnstaple to Instow

River walking, a disused train station and a lot of rain.

Thursday 7th June, 2012

On Thursday morning I was up and ready very early so I could drive to Bideford and catch the ferry to Lundy for the day. Because of the gales the ferry was cancelled. Even though I’d phoned the night before and on the morning itself, the voicemail message just said to turn up and then they’d let us know if the ferry would be sailing or not. As it wasn’t, I was up early with no plans for the day. I decided to walk from Barnstaple to Instow. I should have done this on the same day as my Braunton to Barnstaple walk but had cut it short due to sore knees.

I drove to Barnstaple and parked up at the Leisure Centre. I’d decided to walk to Instow and catch the bus back. Usually I like to leave my car at the end of a walk so I’m not clock-watching, but the bus timetable showed that buses run every 15 mins throughout the day so catching one back shouldn’t be a problem.

Leaving the car park I walked through a retail park past a big Tesco Extra and turned towards the train station. Following the road past the station I went through a subway to emerge on the path proper. This path is a former railway track and runs alongside the River Taw in pretty much a straight line all the way to Instow.

It was raining quite heavily but there were still a few people out and about. I was passed by several cyclists as well as a few walkers. There was not much to see along the path (maybe due to the misty rain) and it could have got monotonous, but I was quite enjoying the freshness of it.

River Taw

After about 2½ miles I came to Fremington Quay. This quay was used to load boats with clay that had been transported across Devon by train. It was then exported around the world. The former train station is now a cafe. I wasn’t in particular need of rest stop but it looked inviting and I had plenty of time. I went in and plonked myself on a comfy sofa after balancing my dripping jacket on my walking poles.

The cafe was quite busy which surprised me until I realised there was a car park at the back of it. The walls were adorned with old black and white photos picturing the former industry. One photo showed a group of white workmen with what seemed to be a black workman at the end of the row. This would probably have been unheard of then. The caption explained that the man was actually covered in coal dust disguising his appearance. In the old black and white photograph it wasn’t really possible to tell the difference.

Fremington Station

The station building has a low lookout tower adjoined to it. I went up to the top but couldn’t see much because of the weather. There were information boards on the birdlife that could be seen, but I didn’t see much of that either.

After an un-needed, but much enjoyed, cream tea I set off into the rain again. I walked about a mile and a half further before turning off the old railway and into a wilder area known as East Yelland Marsh. This is the area where the rivers Taw and Torridge meet to finish their journey to the sea together. A firm, but narrow path winds through the marsh sticking as close to the river as possible. It passed a jetty that was no longer in use and was being reclaimed by vegetation.

Finally the path led through sand dunes and on to the beach which I then walked along to reach Instow. I found the bus shelter which had been warmed by the bit of sun and had a very comfy bench and waited about 10 minutes for a bus to take me back to Barnstaple.

When I arrived in Barnstaple I walked down to the river but instead of crossing over the main bridge to get back to the car park I walked along the river bank to the bridge further down and crossed here. I still wasn’t sure if this was the bridge I should have crossed when I walked here from Braunton and I didn’t want to miss out on a bit of the walk.

The walk took me past a park and playing fields and was quite scenic. When I walked back along the other side I walked through trees and then alongside a building site. The views to the other side of the river were lovely though.

Barnstaple

Miles walked = 7.5 plus the extra bit in Barnstaple at the end.

New boots

Trialling my new boots

My trusty walking boots have developed a tiny hole near the sole. I’ve also had a couple of blisters recently which is unusual and I think it may be because my boots are wearing out on the inside. They’ve been such faithful friends, travelling with me around the world and supporting me on volcanoes, glaciers and grubby city streets as well as countless times on my local Peak District hills.

I really don’t want them to go, but realise the day will soon arrive when I have to retire them. I may use them as plantpots in my yard. With this in mind I have been looking for some new boots. I need boots that are waterproof, sturdy and supportive, but don’t cost the earth.

Just before going to Devon I bought myself a pair and took them with me to trial them. I took my old boots as well and alternated between them. The new boots feel like they’ve been filled with air; I almost bounce along the paths. This is wonderful and I would be completely sold on them, but they feel very stiff. I’m hoping it’s just a case of allowing time to soften them. Not too long though.

I took a picture of them on the Braunton to Barnstaple leg of the coast path. I think I’ll keep my original picture on the blog though.

Tag: walking

Flodda

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Bornais

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Wheelhouse, South Uist

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Eriskay

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Heaval

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Vatersay

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Mingulay

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Ilfracombe to Woolacombe

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Barnstaple to Instow

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New boots

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