 Kingswear; just a ferry stop away.
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Day 5 - Stoke Femming to Brixham
Author: Dave
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Another hot day
The approach to Dartmouth.
After the long hard walk yesterday, I woke up feeling like my legs were made of lead. Unusually I had slept really well in the luxury of my own single room devoid of wall shaking snoring. so I felt quite refreshed and would be on good form once I got the legs into some kind of working order. It was light outside and I thought I could already sense the sun putting the heat back in the air through the open window. I dragged myself out of bed and looked at the time. Bugger. Still only 6:30. Breakfast wasn't until 8:00. I put the tele on and watched the weather forcast - yup, it was going to be another hot one. I managed a kind of hobbling goose step to the shower on my poor aching legs and stood under a waterfall of hot water for about 20 minutes. I hope Jason or anyone else stopping there wasn't hoping for any hot water. I packed my kit up and was all ready for a quick get away after breakfast. I checked my watch; still only 7:45. I wandered over to the breakfast room anyway, which was in a conservatory with a fridge in the corner with fruit and yogurts in and cereal on the table. I lowered myself into a comfy looking chair and then struggled to get back on my feet as the landlord stuck his head round the door and said to make a start on the cereal while he prepared the monster fryup.
A half hour or so later, stuffed to the gills with calories from our damn fine breakfast, we hit the road. Stiff muscles and joints creaked until we got into our stride. Yesterday had been hard on us both but by the end of it I think it was me that was struggling more thasn Jason. Although I must have recovered better than him overnight as, this morning, it seemed the other way round as he seemed to take a hundred yards or so to build up enough steam to get a stride on. I sensed an engine light moment before we reached the end of the day.
The first part of the day was fairly uneventful. We worked our way back to the coast path on quiet country lanes from the B&B and then along easy, sanitised clifftop paths towards Dartmouth and our only river crossing of the day. As we came to a quite backroad section that took us down the clifftowards Dartmouth, Jason started to slow quite dramatically. It was only late morning and this was a bad sign so early in the day. He plodded on and his gait turned to a more customary laboured waddle that people acquire in old age when their joints start to seize up.
A half hour or so later, stuffed to the gills with calories from our damn fine breakfast, we hit the road. Stiff muscles and joints creaked until we got into our stride. Yesterday had been hard on us both but by the end of it I think it was me that was struggling more thasn Jason. Although I must have recovered better than him overnight as, this morning, it seemed the other way round as he seemed to take a hundred yards or so to build up enough steam to get a stride on. I sensed an engine light moment before we reached the end of the day.
The first part of the day was fairly uneventful. We worked our way back to the coast path on quiet country lanes from the B&B and then along easy, sanitised clifftop paths towards Dartmouth and our only river crossing of the day. As we came to a quite backroad section that took us down the clifftowards Dartmouth, Jason started to slow quite dramatically. It was only late morning and this was a bad sign so early in the day. He plodded on and his gait turned to a more customary laboured waddle that people acquire in old age when their joints start to seize up.
The weather had really warmed up !
We reached Dartmouth by late morning and made our way to the small ferry that takes you on the five minute journey across the river to Kingswear. At this point, and with the more challenging part of the day coming up after the river crossing, Jason decided now was the time to bail out and get the bus to Brixam. There were no other real bail out opportunities today and at his current speed he would still be walking this time the following day. He was gutted as this was the first year he had started without having to go down a day or two early to fill in missing sections. As it turns out - he made the right choice.
The coastal path undulates onward under a beating sun.
Carved ships figurehead made from an old tree trunk still rooted in the ground.
After a brief stop at the post office for a sandwich I found the route out of Kingswear heading straight up a small steep lane. This came to an abrupt stop at a 'footpath closed' sign. It was fenced off with no way round the obstruction. I backtracked and found a steep flight of steps that I ran up. At the top, after a couple minutes once my heart rate dropped back below danger level and my vision stopped swimming, I carried on up another wooded lane which wound gently up towards a track at the top of a hill. Here the path split; left was kind of straight on following the line of the main clifftop path and right took you down some steps (a lot of steps) through the gorse. I went right. After five minutes and a lot of steps I came to the bottom which had an old WW2 bunker and gun placement. After a couple of minutes I carried on and up an equal number of steps to the previous descent and came out at the top of the hill about 50 yards from where I had started. If only I had known !
I carried on along open clifftop paths working my up and down undulating grassy slopes interspersed with gorse and stunted wind swept trees. It was a hot day and plesant walking even though it was tough going. Lost in my own thoughts I didn't hear a runner come up behind me until he shouted 'morning' bringing me out of day dream with a start. I called morning to the retreating figure only to realise that he wasn't actually moving much faster than me - despite the fact he was in shorts and trainers and I was in boots carrying a pack. I broke into a trot and started to wind him back in. He obviously heard me and glanced around as I flew down the steep hill he had worked his way carfully down. I kept it up for about a mile and a half and then my knees started to remind me that running up and down steep hills with 30lb's on my back wasn't a good idea when you were only half way through a walking holiday. I eased up on the pace and let him go whilst brooding on the fact he probably thought he had beaten me because I wasn't fast enough. I had let him go because I wanted my knees to last the rest of the week....I was being sensible (for once!).
The rest of the afternoon passed with no more racing or other foolishness; just relentless undulating cliff paths that dropped down to small secluded beaches. As I came around a headland towards St Mary's Bay, the path started to become a little busier with the old couple or family walking past. I came around a corner and there was a young girl, about 5 years old, with a Staffordshire bull terrier type dog on a lead. She was running to keep up with the dog that was dragging her along at his pace. She apologised politely as she flew past and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of parent would let their young child out on their own and along a clifftop path with a dangerous dog ? Then I found out. Round the corner staggered a slightly sunburnt, tattoed bloke with a can of Stella in one hand and a joint in the other. Without wanting to stereotype, he looked like he had picked up his benefits earlier that same day and blown them already. I glared at him as I passed and he tried to focus on me with bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils whilst mumbling something incoherent. I sighed with the thought of coming back into a town. I'd neve rbeen to Brixham before so wasn't sure what to expect and it didn't bode well so far.
I carried on along open clifftop paths working my up and down undulating grassy slopes interspersed with gorse and stunted wind swept trees. It was a hot day and plesant walking even though it was tough going. Lost in my own thoughts I didn't hear a runner come up behind me until he shouted 'morning' bringing me out of day dream with a start. I called morning to the retreating figure only to realise that he wasn't actually moving much faster than me - despite the fact he was in shorts and trainers and I was in boots carrying a pack. I broke into a trot and started to wind him back in. He obviously heard me and glanced around as I flew down the steep hill he had worked his way carfully down. I kept it up for about a mile and a half and then my knees started to remind me that running up and down steep hills with 30lb's on my back wasn't a good idea when you were only half way through a walking holiday. I eased up on the pace and let him go whilst brooding on the fact he probably thought he had beaten me because I wasn't fast enough. I had let him go because I wanted my knees to last the rest of the week....I was being sensible (for once!).
The rest of the afternoon passed with no more racing or other foolishness; just relentless undulating cliff paths that dropped down to small secluded beaches. As I came around a headland towards St Mary's Bay, the path started to become a little busier with the old couple or family walking past. I came around a corner and there was a young girl, about 5 years old, with a Staffordshire bull terrier type dog on a lead. She was running to keep up with the dog that was dragging her along at his pace. She apologised politely as she flew past and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of parent would let their young child out on their own and along a clifftop path with a dangerous dog ? Then I found out. Round the corner staggered a slightly sunburnt, tattoed bloke with a can of Stella in one hand and a joint in the other. Without wanting to stereotype, he looked like he had picked up his benefits earlier that same day and blown them already. I glared at him as I passed and he tried to focus on me with bloodshot eyes and dilated pupils whilst mumbling something incoherent. I sighed with the thought of coming back into a town. I'd neve rbeen to Brixham before so wasn't sure what to expect and it didn't bode well so far.
Jason looking across Brixam harbour from just outside our B&B.
As I came down the final leg into Brixham and passed a row of houses, the view across the harbour opened up in front of me. I knew Jason would be here somewhere and assumed he would have checked into the B&B by now. It was close to 5:00pm and I was feeling the miles. I turned around to look at the buidings immediately behind me as I knew our B&B was along here....It turned out I was standing outside it. I knocked on the door and the landlady let me in and made a brew while I sat in a seat by the window looking out across the Harbour. Jason hadn't checking in so I gave hime a ring and it turned out he had been busy doing a reconnaisance of all the pubs in Brixam.
We dumped our gear in the room, had a shower in the finest shower of the holiday to date and hit the bright lights of Brixham. After a curry we went in trendy type pub on the harbourside and had a dissapointing pint. We then moved on to an excellant pub further along the harbour where about half the occupants seemed to be missing either and arm or a leg (including the dogs!). Good beer though and a friendly place.
Although Jason was fairly well rested, I was absolutely knackered and so another early night followed. I don't seem to be able to sustain the rock and roll lifestyle these days.
We dumped our gear in the room, had a shower in the finest shower of the holiday to date and hit the bright lights of Brixham. After a curry we went in trendy type pub on the harbourside and had a dissapointing pint. We then moved on to an excellant pub further along the harbour where about half the occupants seemed to be missing either and arm or a leg (including the dogs!). Good beer though and a friendly place.
Although Jason was fairly well rested, I was absolutely knackered and so another early night followed. I don't seem to be able to sustain the rock and roll lifestyle these days.
