Portloe to Charlestown
38,000 steps
Leaving Portloe
I wake up acutely conscious that I have too far to go today. I’m the only guest at the Ship Inn, and Landlord Mark chats to me while I polish off his fried eggs on toast.
He helpfully tells me the first part of my walk is the hardest. When I confess that I might be tempted to cut a few corners, he mentions how hazy the morning is: maybe the view from Dodman Point won’t be worth the effort today.
When I set out, I discover that my rucksack has grown heavier in the night. How can that happen?
The morning starts cooler, with a full cover of low cloud, as Landlord Mark has observed. But a couple of steep, stepped climbs early on warm me up. There’s a stronger smell of wild garlic than yesterday.
We’re back on classic Coast Path: a narrow, dirt track along undulating clifftop, fringed with grass and low gorse. The sound of waves on rocks comes from below, birds sing in bushes above. The sky is featureless, and far ahead along the coast Dodman Point is lost in mist. I think about Landlord Mark’s words.
After an hour, I descend into Portholland. It’s another in the endless succession of pretty Cornish villages: this one however has the distinction of being featured in a Tim Burton movie – Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children (2016). I didn’t see it, but tried to read the book without success.
After Portholland, the walking gets easier. At one point, I come to a road and lose track of the Path. A middle-aged woman is standing next to a car, gazing out to sea. A man is in the nearby field, doing the same.
“Does the coast path go along the road here?” I ask hopefully.
“I have no idea,” she says. “We’re looking for the Castle gardens.” I walk on. I don’t think they’ll find them out at sea.
I descend by road into Porthluney, stopping at Caerhays Castle. From here, I can head south, following the Path, to go round (and up) Dodman Point. Or I can go east, cutting across the headland. Saving a couple of miles.
Dodman Point is blanketed in low cloud. There will be no views to be had once I’ve climbed it. I take the opportunity to play the Get Out Of Jail Free card that Landlord Mark gave me at breakfast: I head inland. (And if Neil is reading this – tutting about short cuts – I don’t care. Okay?)
Caerhays Castle
I’m quickly immersed in a gentler landscape, similar to the rolling downland I’m used to in south east England: unflashy, workmanlike paths across fields and along unmetalled roads; ancient, stone-stepped Cornish stiles.
It’s much quieter away in these narrow valleys smudged with haze – no sound of waves, just the liquid chime of birdsong. I make my way eventually down the side of a broad, tree-filled valley, and along its foot to the coast at Portmellon.
Mevagissey Harbour
Along the road, and an outcrop of whitewashed, picture-windowed holiday homes tells me I’m on the edge of Mevagissey. It’s an attractive and popular fishing village, arranged tightly around a double harbour. There are working boats, but these days it’s unashamedly touristy: sea-shell and knick-knack shops; Dead Eye Jack’s Emporium of Tat; pasties and fudge.
I eat a pastie for lunch beside the harbour, watched by this greedy-looking gull.
The Afternoon’s Agenda
My guide book says that the terrain after Mevagissey is like a “roller coaster”. I confess, I’ve been on roller coaster rides that were more fun. And which ended a lot quicker.
I don’t think many people would queue 45 minutes at Disneyland for a couple of hours of lung-bursting, sweat-inducing climbs and descents, observed only by sheep and seagulls.
Let a man walk ten miles steadily on a hot summer’s day along a dusty English road, and he will soon discover why beer was invented.
– G K Chesterton
I’ve noticed that my impression of places along the Path depends on the time of day I reach them. In the morning, everything’s pin-fresh and needle-sharp. I walk briskly, stop frequently to take photos and make notes. In the afternoons, there’s a slower, wearier rhythm. I fall into a heads-down plod, and the beauty sometimes passes me by. Another stunning coastal view? Sigh.
Today, I trudge on through the afternoon, traversing rather too many steep, stepped climbs and descents into and out of a succession of irritatingly attractive coves and inlets. The day has become much warmer, putting me in tee shirt and sunglasses.
I also bought some sunscreen in Mevagissey (begrudgingly, adding 200g to the weight of my pack).
Charlestown Harbour
At last, I reach Charlestown. There is a harbour with interesting sailing ships, and a shipwreck heritage centre. The harbour was built to export copper from local mines, and later china clay from the large quarries inland.
Nowadays there is beer. And food. And a shower.
Chris Barnham - The View From SE13 