August 18, 1987: Combe Martin to Ilfracombe

The descent to Watermouth Bay

Tuesday, August 18, was always intended as a half rest day for us  – which meant that there was no urgency in leaving Saffron House. Nevertheless we were all agreed on as early a departure as possible from its inhospitable confines. I was out quite early to walk the dog back to the Pack o’ Cards, where I took a photograph and Toby finally agreed to part with his gift. At breakfast we were again served by the cute blonde chipmunk who had presided over the previous evening’s gloomy fare. By this time Dorothy and I were having trouble getting into our room, for the ancient decaying carpet was coming up under the doorframe. We were all glad to pay up and hit the street.

We had decided not to ask Saffron House for packed lunches. Dorothy had spotted a nice delicatessen on our way back to the harbor so we paused here to order sandwich rolls. Our progress was halting, with a stop here for soft drinks, there for fruit. Tosh, still acting the isolationist, charged ahead with instructions to wait at some loos we had passed the previous night – but when we got there she was missing. She had forgotten where we had been and she was still chatting to passersby somewhere below us.

Reassembled at last we began to chug up a steep hill on the highway. I couldn’t find a turn-off I wanted and this required a far more extensive battle with rushing traffic than necessary. A juggernaut coming downhill and a bus coming uphill left little room for the rest of us on the verge. I walked ahead with the dog and stopped at a quiet road junction at the top. It began to rain. I stood under a tree and considered whether or not to put on my rain cape. The drops stopped; although there was moisture on a number of occasions there was never anything requiring raingear on this day – or any other.

Some workmen were actually adding a section of the coast path beneath the road we were walking on. We reached more level ground and in a bus shelter near the Sandy Bay Hotel Harold changed his trousers. There was much speculation about his chances of mooning the 11:10 for Woolacombe Sands. A track lead us off the road here and our talent for speculation continued as we tried to figure out why a sheet was hanging from a tree on the muddy lane ahead of us. Toby was able to run free here for the first time. Instead of putting us back on the road a new coast path diversion sent us down a grassy slope behind the tent city at the foot of Watermouth Castle – beneath whose battlements day-trippers were parking their cars. A calliope piped in the kids.

We briefly rejoined the road here but directly opposite the Castle signs pointed both up the road and onto the beach. Harold walked along the latter and came back with some information on how to proceed. We left the road and crossed the tide pools and wet rocks of Watermouth harbor. Toby took a suspicious slurp from one of the pools. We were on the low tide alternative that lead to some steps behind a boat. Up these steeply put us on a woodland path beneath the road. Ward and Mason suggest that road walking is needed all the way to Hele (and that, indeed, this is a good portion to skip) but as we approached the farms at Widmouth we noticed a new diversion away from the road and around Widmouth Head.

Watermouth Bay

This route required a considerable descent. We were soon heading back almost in our original direction, with wonderful views up the narrow harbor of Watermouth Bay, a panorama of rocky crags, sea, and grassy hills that was truly enchanting. We sprawled on the path and had a nice lunch in the ferns and flowers.

After lunch we rounded Widmouth Head, regaining much of the ground we had lost. Dorothy had decided that no one was speaking to her – an observation I saw as overstated. At least some of the other interpersonal relationships were working on this trip. “We admire Janet so much,” Tosh had told me, “We just love her.” The Lees and Janet, indeed, were well ahead of Dorothy and me as we reached the top of our hill – having circled Widmouth Head without making much progress toward Ilfracombe.

Another new detour followed, this time around Rillage Point. How glad I was that these additions to the day’s march had come on a short day for us (seven miles). They were certainly worthwhile, for the scene – under grey skies – was magnificent. We descended around the Point and climbed up again beneath some Coastguard buildings on the main road. In a lay-by at the top a family was having lunch in the car. Fortunately there was a small path in the verge here, often overgrown. Indeed, on the descent to Hele we had to march through a flower-choked chasm in the “I surrender” position. Thereafter there was pavement to take us to the bottom of the hill. We were already within the city limits of Ilfracombe at 1:30.

I sent Tosh into the Hele Bay Hotel to see if they permitted dogs in the pub. (There was a small garden out front but it was breezy.) There was no objection to dogs (indeed a fat Jack Russell and an ancient Yorkie were already in residence). Harold smashed a glass off the counter, but no one seemed at all bothered. Janet had tea. The English were having a light lunch, with chips and Heinz spaghetti as side dishes – beans were off, dear. Pictures of the hotel in earlier times decorated the walls above us. How fortunate to have an open pub perched directly over the corner where the coast path takes a short turn down to Hele Bay for its ascent of Hillsborough.

Janet had difficulty understanding why we intended to climb this 400-foot hill; it seemed so much easier to use the road. Nevertheless she sportingly donned her huge pack (Dorothy described her as a giant walking olive) for a last hour on the heights, a wonderful but steep series of switchbacks (shown as a straight line by Ward and Mason) that eventually gave us the great panorama of Ilfracombe and its harbor below us. Toby had a wonderful time running back and forth, cutting switchbacks, waiting to show us the way, charging forward to catch up with the frontrunners.

Ilfracombe

We could see the civic swimming pool below us and this was a good landmark; for the rest, Janet and I relied on a drawing of the hotel in the brochure supplied us. This showed an unusual window in the attic that allowed us to pinpoint our building a half a mile away. At the pool Dorothy did some investigating, having decided that a good swim would be very relaxing. It was quite a climb from here up across the main road and around the corner to the Combe Lodge Hotel, a semi-detached establishment sharing a building with the Towers Hotel. It was 3:30.

We were welcomed by Janet Cath, a small cheerful woman. Again we had a shower but no toilet (though such rooms were obviously available) – evidently when I ask for a private bath all I got was a private bath. This issue seemed less central to Dorothy today, perhaps because our room was so much more comfortable than yesterday’s. Janet and the Lees went into Ilfracombe to have a cream tea, and I agreed to meet Dorothy outside the pool in an hour and fifteen minutes. I then listened to my walkman and had a brief snooze, sharing the bed with a very tired Schnauzer.

I think I should have let him continue sleeping but when it was time for my rendezvous with Dorothy I took him along. We waited on the grassy hillside outside the pool, dodging a few drops. The sun soon returned to the skies and it became warmer again. Kids were being offered every from of recreation hereabouts, bumper boats on a tiny lake, grass sledges on the hillside, and several miniature golf courses described under the heading “Comic Putting.” The three of us walked down to the attractive harbor, had a Feast bar, and peeked into souvenir shops. Dorothy bought a little Ilfracombe pitcher to go with the rest of her collection. The streets were crowded with tourists, and there were many with dogs. We made some inquiries about taxis and buses at the Tourist Information Centre and walked to the western end of the town, climbing up to the high street. A long easterly traverse of this, past Ilfracombe’s many Victorian hotels, brought us eventually to Chambercombe Park. By this time Toby really was fagged out.

I had a shower and Dorothy and I, aided by directions from the Cath boys, located the bar. Here Janet and the Lees were well ahead of us. Brian Cath, who served – with his mini-van – as a local guide, was cleaning the beer taps. There was only one other family at the evening meal – a steak and mushroom pie that Brian had baked himself. It was very good and so were the vegetables. Over the mousse we chatted with Brian about our plans for the morrow. Janet had decided that she didn’t want to walk the whole route. When I suggested she take a taxi Brian reminded us that he ferried people about in his van. After trying out several options we agreed that Brian should take Janet and our packs as far as Lee Bay after breakfast the next day.

Dorothy decided to stay in and watch a Candice Bergen movie on the telly. The rest of us trooped all the way back to Ilfracombe for soft drinks and ice cream. Once again we walked all the way to the western end of town, the Lees having decided to be particular about the brand of biscuit they would buy. Since all of the shops on the high street were closed I found a steep San Francisco-like set of steps and walkways that brought us all the way down to the harbor a third time. It was dark but Janet found some cats to talk to and we arrived at the bottom in time to see two contingents of the drum and bugle corps march by. We had been hearing them for the last hour. A final ascent in the dark brought us back to our hotel. I went out with Toby for a few minutes and we all retired.

This should have been the end of the day by at 2:30 am the dog began to barf. A combination of seawater and grass must have been responsible for this incident. No sooner had Dorothy cleaned it up then the dog began to whimper that he had to go out. I was sure this was impossible, that the place would be plunged in darkness, that the burgler alarm would go off. But Dorothy opened the well-lit and unlocked front door, propped it open with the umbrella stand, and led the little fellow onto the front lawn for a messy poo. Well done.

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

Day 5: Ilfracombe to Croyde