2 days Lynton to Woolacombe 28 miles, 1000 feet elevations here we go

The cliffs in North Devon are the highest in England, reaching over 1000 feet at certain points. There was a sense of calm-anxiety as Niky drove to Lynton for drop off. That’s a weird thing to write ‘calm-anxiety’. I think it’s something to do with accepting fear and processing it, yet still feeling it.

It was quite a surprise when after half a mile a goat (yes, a goat!) wandered across the cliff path and popped off the edge.  My first instinct was to call the fire brigade or goat-Samaritans. But then I peered over the side to be met with a whole goat family sat on a precipice 700 ft up looking at me as if I was on gogglebox.

We were staying in Braunton as a base. One of my favorite small towns. And on more than one occasion during a coffee shop or surf shop moment chatting about ‘the path’ we would be told “always look back”. I was reflecting on this as I wandered into the Valley of Rocks. That’s quite a place, almost biblical. It’s to do with the shaping of land from the ice age. I imagined Noah, Moses or the older Luke Skywalker coming out from behind a large stone with a tall staff and say “alwayyyys looooook baaaaack”. If you know the bible this didn’t work out for Lot’s wife. My thoughts were also mindful of Bob Dylan’s documentary ‘Don’t look back’. 

So I looked back.

I felt a salty taste (uh oh) and then noticed something.

It was a different perspective. Mmmmm.

I headed onwards towards Lee Abbey along winding rural roads that separated rolling meadows. I met a youngish couple who were heading to one of the small beaches. They said they’d completed the path 2 years ago and were surprised when I mentioned I’m walking over to Combe Martin. “It’s pretty steep” they said with a smile, “but it’s ok as not too windy today with the heights”.

I changed the words around ANXIETY-Calm.

Lee Abbey is beautiful, a Christian community providing rest and recovery for all those who visit. It grew from a group of Cistercian Abbots in 1200 with further buildings added in 1800’s. There was a sense of quiet as I wandered through, a sort of relational peace where land, sea… and stewards of land and sea… are connected.

From there I began my move towards Heddon valley knowing that coming out of the valley would bring me to one of the most cliff-hugging sections of the 630 mile path. It’s a beautiful valley of luscious vegetation but also rugged features with the remains of Lime Kilns and a Roman fort. It’s ‘barely’ accessible by road. And as I descended a few hundred feet to the valley floor I heard the cry of an unusual bird …”coooooeeeee! cooooeeeee!” and to my surprise I spotted a Cornish Warbler … Niky (aka wifey). The Cornish warbler is a very sociable bird known to take risks, be incredibly caring for others with an affinity for musical welsh surfers called Gareth.

Do not ask me how she got the van down there but she did.

I now realise Niky is having her own adventure of ‘how many inaccessible places can I drive an old VW transporter?’.

She shouted “I thought I’d surprise you and say ‘hi’ especially before you go UP THERE” … pointing to the towering cliff above us.

I wasn’t sure how to take this (ANXIETY-ANXIETY) but it’s always good to get a hug off Mrs D.

The climb up through the undergrowth was a little similar to Martin Sheen’s character in the movie Aplocalypse Now macheting his way through Vietnamese jungle. Ok an over exaggeration but that’s where my thoughts went. I finally came out on top 800 feet up. Ate a banana. And started transversing around the cliff using a path that wasn’t much wider than my rucksack.

It wasn’t really a ‘PATH’ more a ‘PA’ or a ‘TH’.

I eventually got to the highest point and swung round the cliff-face to abruptly meet a male walker coming the other way.

I said in a deep-man-voice ‘CRACKING view mate’

He replied in a lower rumble ‘ABSOLUTELY fantastic’.

But I know we were both crapping ourselves.

Here is the realisation. I can do anything I put my mind to. Fear is healthy, panic isn’t. I used the rhythm of walking to Psalm 23. ….’For you are with me, your rod and staff comforts me’ it’s a banger! The Psalm is also about valleys so thought it was apt.

I think faith and courage go together. It’s navigating the unseen and growing as you do.

I looked back. Again.

Different perspective again. Mmmmm.

Elated, I headed towards the Great Hangman ‘the’ highest coastal point in England. It meant descending another valley and ascending the next side 1000 feet before finally hitting the summit.

At the top I felt it right and proper to sing the welsh national anthem. Then I rang a few people to share my Everest-like conquest.

I rang Niky and then my Dad but got the wrong number and accidentally rang Derry’s garage in Wadebridge.

I booked the van in for a service.

Finally after 14 miles and a compressed peanut butter sandwich at the (not so) ‘Little Hangman’ next door, I headed down towards the picturesque Combe Martin. To be once again met with a “cooooeeeeee”.

 The Cornish-warbler had come to meet me with news of well stocked ice cream shops. And a hug worth a million dollars.

The following morning in Combe Martin I was buzzing with songs “ain’t no mountain highhhh enoughhhhh, ain’t no vallleyyyyyy lowwww enough”… Niky rolled her eyes. “Marvin Gaye has entered the building”.

We wandered out of the village and got lost in minutes.

And from a distance I heard a shout,

“Ere m’beuties if you go this way it’s quicker”.

I turned to view a long haired smile wearing a day-glo orange jacket and a sweeping brush.

“Thanks!” I replied “what’s your name then?”

“I can’t give you my real name … too dangerous…let’s go with Elvis”

Elvis went onto to tell a joke about the Cornish, Devonians and Somersetters.

The bottom line was that Devon came out very well, the others didn’t.

We had an interesting chat with Elvis about his thoughts on all the second homes in Combe Martin and the struggling infrastructure trying to keep up with huge numbers of visitors. And of course the COVID pandemic. Apparently a considerable increase in home purchases from city dwellers relocating to the coast escaping the ‘urban virus’.

But most intriguing was the final story, the legend of The Combe Martin Camel. A sleeping Camel that you can make out from the rock formation as it blends into the sea.

“It will one day wake up” says Elvis “then look out”.

I had a vision of Elvis on a giant Camel heading to Cornwall like Hannibal of the Carthaginians. Might struggle when gets to Bodmin I thought.

The 14 miles from Combe Martin to Woolacombe were stunning. It’s a bit complicated coming out of the village but when you get to Watermouth and Widmouth head it is almost another world. I sent a photo of a secluded beach near Widmouth Head to my sister in Wales and she asked if I was in Thailand.

From there I took the approach from Hele Bay up and over to Ilfracombe.

I love Ilfracombe it’s both beautiful and well…real. There are some huge social challenges here yet it’s so grounded. You can see the locals love where they live and do everything they can to support each other. Some of they best people I’ve met are from Ilfracombe. And of course the artist Damien Hirst shares my affinity through his donation of the statue Verity meaning ‘Truth’.

I wandered over to Lee Bay 5 miles later for my lunch and got the weary feet out for a rest. I think yesterday’s walk knackered me and also I was walking with less purpose and more observation. I kept stopping to look behind and all my photos were being taken from behind. And it seems of Verity’s actual behind.

The walk towards Mortehoe was just sunshine in every form. Meandering paths through meadows, offshore breezes making the sea look like it was full of jewels, with greens, blues and gleaming yellows. I kept stopping to hear the reeds moving in the wind almost as if they were a family singing to each other. It’s like a shhhhhhhhhhhhhooooshhhh and my soul liked it. My final section took me past Bull Point Ligthouse nearing Morte Point. This area almost has a deathly beauty, the rock outcrops are Tolkien like, reminding me of Mordor in Lord of the Rings, with black slate-blades pushing out of the ground into the sea. The remains of SS Collier can still be seen in its 1914 resting place. The locals still say Morte point is the ‘last place God created and the first place the devil will take back’. The word Morte itself comes from the word meaning death. This did not help as the heaviest of sea-mists came in as I rounded Morte Point. There was certainly a Pirates of the Caribbean spooky feel to it. I kept looking back half expecting Jack Sparrow but all I could see was the sun in a different way as the smoky sea air started changing.

Woolacombe was in now in a patchy mist as I walked along the green lawns above the section known as the barricane. It was no surprise to hear “coooooeeeeee” from above as Niky appeared with another million dollar hug. We had our first ever photo as a ‘we are now going out’ couple in 1998 on those greens and 23 years later we had a go at replicating the photo with the help of a kind tourist.

Then the ice cream.

Final note: Always look back. In life it helps to process experiences by looking back with self kindness. We make more sense of things and the perspective changes. It may not always be a great memory but it will always show us how far we’ve come and it helps us embrace everything that shapes us.