One of the many discused mine workings
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Day 7 - St Agnes - Gwithian
Author: Dave
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A damp day
The weather could barely be different from yesterday. It had rained overnight and was looking very gray and threatening to rain as we sat and ate our breakfast both nursing a bit of a headache after trying to work our way through the beer selection last night. It's fair to use an analogy of two kids in a sweetshop !
As we left the Driftwood Spars the threat of rain became a reality as a slight drizzle blew in. It began to rain more steadily over the first mile or so and we opted for full water proof trouser mode. The thing with breathable water proofs is that they are only breathable if the humidity on the outside is lower than the inside. Consequently, when it rains you get wet; either from sweat or rain. We were wet through by mid morning. and even passing the atmospheric old mine workings looming out of the mist could only raise slight interest and a moments distraction from the relentless rain. Even my trustee old boots had given up and were leaking like a BP oil well.
Jason was also struggling again. I think yesterday had taken it out of him and coupled with the wet, miserable conditions today I could almost feel his will power to put one foot in front of another waning. I stopped near the MOD 'place' just east of Portreath and sat on a style to wait for him to catch me up while taking the opportunity to remove my boots, ring my socks out and check the condition of my feet that had been wet for about four hours solid. There's no quicker way to get blisters than walking on wet feet. Fortunately, although my boots have given up on keeping out the water they still were fantastically comfortable and this was obviously my saving grace as there were no blisters - although they were as wrinkly as an old man's scrotum.
I wrung out my socks and 're-booted' as Jason caught up. He didn't look too cheerful so I reminded him he was on holiday and was here enjoying himself. I won't repeat the answer.
He looked pretty wrecked and sure enough, as we approached the Portreath he took the decision to get a bus for the last couple of miles. We had made pretty good time and he would be at the B&B early so we arranged to meet at the (only) pub in the village.
As we left the Driftwood Spars the threat of rain became a reality as a slight drizzle blew in. It began to rain more steadily over the first mile or so and we opted for full water proof trouser mode. The thing with breathable water proofs is that they are only breathable if the humidity on the outside is lower than the inside. Consequently, when it rains you get wet; either from sweat or rain. We were wet through by mid morning. and even passing the atmospheric old mine workings looming out of the mist could only raise slight interest and a moments distraction from the relentless rain. Even my trustee old boots had given up and were leaking like a BP oil well.
Jason was also struggling again. I think yesterday had taken it out of him and coupled with the wet, miserable conditions today I could almost feel his will power to put one foot in front of another waning. I stopped near the MOD 'place' just east of Portreath and sat on a style to wait for him to catch me up while taking the opportunity to remove my boots, ring my socks out and check the condition of my feet that had been wet for about four hours solid. There's no quicker way to get blisters than walking on wet feet. Fortunately, although my boots have given up on keeping out the water they still were fantastically comfortable and this was obviously my saving grace as there were no blisters - although they were as wrinkly as an old man's scrotum.
I wrung out my socks and 're-booted' as Jason caught up. He didn't look too cheerful so I reminded him he was on holiday and was here enjoying himself. I won't repeat the answer.
He looked pretty wrecked and sure enough, as we approached the Portreath he took the decision to get a bus for the last couple of miles. We had made pretty good time and he would be at the B&B early so we arranged to meet at the (only) pub in the village.
The misty view along the coast from near Hells Mouth back towards Portreath
just imagine this on a nice day !
I carried on alone along the clifftop path. This would have been fantastic clifftop scenery on a nice day and although it was still pretty damn good it just wasn't easy to fully appreciate it in the soaked to the skin condition I was in. I started to think Jason had the right idea. I wondered briefly if he was in the pub yet. About half way to Gwithian at a place called Hells Mouth was a pleasant looking cafe just where the road and path met. I decided to stop for a quick cuppa and slice of cake. I ordered at the counter and plonked myself down at a table in the corner next to a fan heater. Took my waterproofs off and hung them on a chair facing the heater. I then took my boots and socks off and laid them across the leg braces of the same chair to let them steam and dry off a bit. The waitress came over with my tea & cake and gave me a very stern look but said nothing and left me to it. Refreshed, I left a decent tip and set off on the path to Gwithian with socks and boots that were still wet, but now they were warm and wet.
I set off down hill towards Gwithian, though a sand dune and gravel nature reserve and made it to the pub in the village. It was shut. I guessed Jason must have gone up to the farm house where we were staying but as he had the laminated sheet with all the details on, I didn't know where it was. I tried to phone, no signal. I wandered around a bit and by pure chance saw a sign to the farm house pointing up a track. I started up the track which seemed endless. What seemed like hours later and about 20 miles inland I came to the B&B. I knocked on the door and the lady answered and said "Oh, you must be Dave. Jason's been here ages and is having a bath." Well, at least I was at the right place. I took my water proofs off and they were dutifully hung on the back of chairs facing the wood burning stove/Aga in the enormous kitchen. I was pointed to a chair at a table and told to sit while a pot of tea and slice of cake were bought over. The cat curled up on a chair by the Aga briefly woke up and looked at me and then went back to sleep. An ancient old collie wandered over for a bit of a fuss and then crashed out on the floor next to me waiting for any dropped cake crumbs. If there is a stereo type for a friendly farm house B&B - this was it and just what a bloke who's walked 19 miles in the rain needed at that moment.
The farmer even ran us down to the pub that evening and picked us up so we could have some dinner and a couple of jars without having to walk along the substantial track. Beer and food were both good; B&B was excellent !
I set off down hill towards Gwithian, though a sand dune and gravel nature reserve and made it to the pub in the village. It was shut. I guessed Jason must have gone up to the farm house where we were staying but as he had the laminated sheet with all the details on, I didn't know where it was. I tried to phone, no signal. I wandered around a bit and by pure chance saw a sign to the farm house pointing up a track. I started up the track which seemed endless. What seemed like hours later and about 20 miles inland I came to the B&B. I knocked on the door and the lady answered and said "Oh, you must be Dave. Jason's been here ages and is having a bath." Well, at least I was at the right place. I took my water proofs off and they were dutifully hung on the back of chairs facing the wood burning stove/Aga in the enormous kitchen. I was pointed to a chair at a table and told to sit while a pot of tea and slice of cake were bought over. The cat curled up on a chair by the Aga briefly woke up and looked at me and then went back to sleep. An ancient old collie wandered over for a bit of a fuss and then crashed out on the floor next to me waiting for any dropped cake crumbs. If there is a stereo type for a friendly farm house B&B - this was it and just what a bloke who's walked 19 miles in the rain needed at that moment.
The farmer even ran us down to the pub that evening and picked us up so we could have some dinner and a couple of jars without having to walk along the substantial track. Beer and food were both good; B&B was excellent !
