June 19, 1994: Rosevine to Gorran Haven
Climbing Nare Head
Visibility was good, though high clouds dominated the seascape when I looked out my window on the morning of Sunday, June 19. We had agreed to meet for breakfast at 8:00 because a long day lay ahead of us. I stepped outside into the still cool air before meeting the others. A lop-eared moggie looked beseechingly at us through a glass door but Margie felt he had better stay outside. Breakfast never varied for me on this trip: some form of dry cereal and scrambled eggs on toast. Margie, as usual, brought her own bran with her; Harold took an occasional sausage but the girls too avoided meat at breakfast. Harold settled the bill, acting as expedition bookkeeper, and we were ready to leave at the appointed marching hour, 9:00. I had wanted an early start because I knew we faced a very long day, one on which Ward and Mason had bestowed an ominous fifteen black arrows!
We began, however, with a descent to Porthbeor Beach on a path behind the hotel, one I had scouted out the night before. It was not as overgrown as the hotel staff had warned and we had soon rejoined the coast path below. Soon we were climbing steps, always the sign of a desperate incline, as we inched up from the beach, turning north again in bracken and gorse. A second major ascent was needed to circumnavigate the Pendower Hotel, which had failed to provide walkers with a right of way across their bottom lawn. This put us out on a road, which we used to descend to the southern portion of Pendower Beach. As we attempted to make our way northwards we encountered a diversion sign – something had undermined the path ahead, and we were forced to take a steep road inland in order to reach the northern section of the beach – marching past the peacocks of the pink-clad Pedower Beach House Hotel. There was some hazy sunshine at this point, but much of the day remained overcast, though mainly dry.
After crossing a stream we headed steeply uphill to reach the flanks of Nare Point, the first of two great headlands that loomed ahead of us. Two more steep climbs were required for ascents from Kiberick Cove and Parc Caragloose Cove; the rough nature of the terrain meant that many of our miles took the better part of an hour to complete; thus it was already past 1:00 when we passed the sharp Jacka ridge on our right, rounded a corner and entered the village of Portloe – our five-mile mark. Once we had settled in at an outdoor table at the Lugger Inn Harold called our next innkeeper to advise him not to expect us before 8:00.
A distant view of Dodman Point
The Lugger had been recommended to us by the jolly fat man aboard the Place ferry. It was certainly a popular hostelry and we were lucky to get a table. Unfortunately there was a period of mist and we had to raise the umbrella above our table to escape it. I had a lager and a crab sandwich. Seagulls brazenly snatched tidbits from the customers’ hands – including my own. When the piece of bread was too large, the gulls, each with a red dot on their bills, would squawk in protest. Above us in the car park, two large dogs – shut up in a van – barked in fury the entire time. Tosh and Harold had coffee and I switched to lemonade. It was close to 2:00 before we were able to make our escape.
On the left: Portholland
Steps lead us up to a flagstaff on Portloe Point and we struggled onward, up and down, toward the twin villages of West and East Portholland. The two are joined by a road and the coast path uses this too. In East Portholland the houses had double front doors as a defense against the high tides that sometimes sweep over the embankment. There was also a shop and everyone had an ice cream (Margie had already found her first mint choc ice back in St. Mawes). It was chilly sitting outside and I put my black sweatshirt on again. This was soon superfluous as we resumed our progress eastwards, using a metaled path and some rare level walking to approach the road down to Caerhays Castle.
The best views of this structure came as we left the beach below us, climbing steeply above Porthluney Cove toward Black Rock. A farmer on a tractor was chugging down the hill as we paused to make sure we had chosen the right line of ascent. I fell once, sliding onto my backside and putting my left arm, again, into a nettle bed. After (another) Greeb Point we descended to the low cliff above Hemmick Beach, with views of our next great headland, Dodman Point, dominating our attention. The MOD wanted to establish a naval gunnery range here and there were protests and petitions against this plan in every pub on our route. Two black arrows were needed to reach the cross on the tip of the point. I was often ahead on this day – a surprising position for me – and I used the few minutes before the others caught up to plan a rare solo photo of me, posed beside the cross, which Tosh soon took.
It was getting late, already nearing 7:00, and we were all quite tired. Although we were walking on almost the longest day of the year and I knew that there was no danger of running out of light, the prospect of arriving at the Llawnroc Inn with the kitchen closed seemed an unpleasant one. Therefore, as we completed a long straightaway leading toward Pen-a-maen Point, I decided to check on something in the guidebook – which contained the OS maps of the region as well as some route-finding hints. The latter had included the cryptic message that the path “almost meets the road,” and I now began to wonder where this road might lead. We sat down in a field full of rabbit burrows and I pulled out the guide to have a look in the fading light. The road in question headed straight for Gorran Haven, evading the Point and a last black arrow! All I had to do was find it, and there were a number of promising paths slanting upward. I chose one of these and after only a few hundred yards a gate admitted us to tarmac. Without having to take another uphill step we were released to descend to our village, only fifteen minutes away. I had saved us the better part of an hour through this route-finding strategy, an act that earned the heartiest gratitude from my game fellow walkers. After thirteen strenuous miles we reached Gorran Haven and then had to endure an unscheduled black arrow of a climb to the top of the village and our inn. It was 7:30.
The bar was crowded but the publican detached himself to hunt for keys and show us to our rooms – fortunately some distance from the din below. We each had a shower and headed downstairs at 8:15. After ordering my scampi and chips I called Dorothy, which I did every night, then returned to enjoy my meal. Kids were everywhere, out in front on the lawn, in the games room next door. Harold and I each ate a delicious banana split for dessert when last food orders were taken at 9:00. Soon thereafter we climbed to our weary beds. My walkman was knackered, it seemed, but I got it going after a few substandard bars of Gliere’s Second Symphony and drifted off to a well-earned rest.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: