April 9, 1990: Crackington Haven to Bossiney Haven

Cambeak

Tosh was given the seat facing the sea as we prepared to have our breakfast on the morning of Monday, April 9. Unfortunately, the Combe Lodge Hotel didn’t start serving until 9:00 – and so we were not going to get a fast start. I had urged everyone to have packs ready to go, but even so, what with waiting for lunches and paying the bill (I almost forgot to turn in my key) it wasn’t until 10:07 that we got under way.

Again we passed some windswept tennis courts as we began an ascent of Cambeak. It was another glorious sunny day, much warmer than the previous day. Tosh remarked that today she didn’t needed a baklava on her face and it took some time for Harold to translate this as a balaclava. Meanwhile she managed to lose her mittens at some rest spot and spent the rest of the trip with her hands up her sleeves.

We cut off the nose of Cambeak on a level trail that the guidebook had warned me to look out for. There was a good deal of climbing in the morning but fortunately without too much loss of the ground gained. This was just as well because our goal was High Cliff, the highest cliff in the south of England – if you exclude the Isle of Wight. Of course there was a good deal of huffing and puffing but I thought the ascent went more smoothly than I could have anticipated. I even took my sweatshirt off and walked for about an hour in my t-shirt – the only time I was able to do so on this trip.

When we reached the top we disdained a sit-down on the summit bench but turned our attention to the route ahead. It was not easy to see, in spite of the clear day, where we were expected to go in the broken ground below us. Fortunately there were some other walkers ahead of us and it was obvious that the first task was to get down a very steep incline. I observed again that the descents were much steeper than the ascents on this path – if you were heading toward Land’s End.

Harold on Rusey Cliff – High Cliff in the background

At the bottom we had a rest before crossing the top of Rusey Cliff. The geriatric couple from our hotel were already enjoying a rest here, so we didn’t linger for a great length of time. Unfortunately there weren’t any path signs about and I was a bit disconcerted when the trail we were following began a switchback away from the sea. However this appeared to be right according to the South West Way Association’s booklet number 2 – which I was carrying in my plastic sleeve. We continued uphill, rising gradually on the dominant path and at last we found another bench and a stile.

This encouraged me to believe that I was on the right track. A footpath sign was pointing in the direction of the next headland, Buckator, and we followed this direction over green turf for a while – but then I decided to check out a nearby stile and found an acorn. This mean that we needed to stay away from the headland, a conclusion not shared by several sets of walkers who got themselves into a muddy patch on Buckator’s flank below us.

We decided to climb the stile and have lunch on the grass. I finished first and used the extra time to scout out the route, eventually discovering the need to drop down the hill diagonally to the next stile. We were soon following an easy route, with many stiles over slate fences, as we made our way out to Fire Beacon Point and followed the cliff edge down to Pentargon. In the sunlight the play of the lovely emerald blue sea against the coves, rocks and inlets, was a delight. I had Harold guess the name of Gull Rock, just offshore, from the obvious evidence below us. At Pentargon there was another coastal waterfall.

Boscastle harbor

After Pentargon there was a steep ascent of Penally Hill, but by reaching the mast at its crest we were able to look down into Boscastle, the charming National Trust owned harbor town, built along two sides of a narrow and hidden cleft in the sea wall. Harold and I had a long discussion about how we might go up to the crossroads and return to the coast path without coming back to the water, even quarreling over whether those green stripes on the other side represented benches (they did).

Then we began a steep descent, reaching the bottom at 3:30. There was no point in looking for a pub so we settled on an ice cream parlor, the Harbor Café, and had a nice rest. The proprietress gave us directions to our next hotel and sent her greetings to its owners. Tosh went looking for a place to buy gloves but came back empty-handed. I had some coffee ice cream and a lemonade. Tourists were strolling about in large numbers in the afternoon sun. We bought some cans of soft drinks before our departure, crossed a little bridge and edged our way back to the mouth of the harbor to resume our walk shortly after 4:00. Tosh had a look at some lobster pots lined up at near the quay, marveling at the stupidity of the creature who could figure out how to get in but not how to get out.

A short climb put us below the coastguard hut on the first of two nearby promontory’s – each called Willapark. Then we continued for an hour or so quite close to the cliffs as the sun finally went behind some clouds and the afternoon settled into a dull grey. Tosh began to be antsy about our arrival time as we reached Rocky Valley, but I wasn’t able to tell her too much since I was a bit uncertain where our hotel, which was not in any town, was located.

After climbing out of the valley we faced a line of dwellings above us, including a trailer park. I had been advised that the Willapark Manor Hotel backed onto the path, but I didn’t have much to go on beside this. Bossiney Haven was a beautiful dark blue below us as we approached the dwellings in question. Tosh convinced herself that a large two-story grey house must be our hotel and Harold went up to ask a local woman walking her dog if this was true. It was! We were given fresh instructions on how to use the green garden door (which was well above, not on the path) and at 5:45 we concluded our walk.

The Willapark Manor Hotel was a small, family-run establishment, also awaiting the start of the season. Our hostess showed us to our rooms on the first floor – we were reminded of the staircase at Overwater Hall – and we dumped off our packs and returned to the lounge. Here the cook served us some drinks, nonplussed when we said we preferred no music on the tape deck. A young couple was trying to play pool on a table situated in a room with too little space for certain shots.

I went upstairs to take a bath in a room obviously used by the family; indeed it had probably just been used to bathe the little naked boy running around at the bottom of the stairs. I called Dorothy and we had another drink and went in to dinner at 7:00. Tonight there was no choice of entree, but the food was quite good. The young manager gave each of us a very large breaded pork steak, served with a coarse-ground English mustard. By the time we had packed in starters, veg, and pudding we were all stuffed.

We returned to the strains of Mantovani in the lounge and each of us had a Bailey’s while the light faded away from the sea below. Tosh wanted me to show her pictures of the birds I had identified for her that day  – choughs, magpies, chaffinches. By 10:00 we were in our beds, but I was somewhat discomfited by the paranoid ruminations of Shostakovich’s 4th Symphony on my walkman – and later took a sleeping pill.

To continue with the next stage of our walk you need:

Day 15: Bosinney to Port Isaac