July 3, 1995: Noss Mayo to Bigbury-On-Sea
Leaving Lord Revelstoke’s Drive
The skies were bright once again as we arose for the fourth day of our walk, Monday, July 3. Breakfast was served at 8:30, but I told Harold that we would not have to make an early start today because our next rendezvous with destiny was not until 2:49 – and we had plenty of time to reach this goal. Consequently we had quite a leisurely morning, and did not depart Rookery Nook until 9:55.
We began with a stiff climb back to the ridge-top parking lot, but it took us only a few minutes – Rookery Nook’s elevated position had certainly been very useful to us, and everyone appreciated the fact that we didn’t have to walk the first two miles of the Marine Drive today. There were sheep in the lane up to the car park and we drove most of these forward as we descended. The farmer was rounding them up and we let him know that we had left a few still gazing fondly at the Ford Fiestas. He blamed marathon runners (not walkers, for once) for leaving a gate open.
Visibility was again superb, though the sun broke through directly only occasionally and on one such occasion I paused to lather up with sunblock once again. Our green road again provided easy gradients and we made excellent time as we approached Stoke Point – where the route turns inland a bit – passing through a brief wooded section before emerging onto the road down to the Stoke Caravan Park.
I had told Tosh that there was a shop here and she found a local gentleman sitting in the car park. “Is the shop open?” “What time is it?” he replied. “Going on 11:15,” Tosh answered. “Well you might have timed it just right,” he continued. “You mean it’s about to open?” the lady wanted to know. “No, it’s about to close,” was the response. The Lees dashed down the road and were admitted as the last of the morning’s paying customers by the strict proprietress. I waited in the car park. The first local gentleman was joined by a second who was carrying some trash and cursing the local cats and his layabout neighbors. The two paused to offer instructions to a tourist who was searching for a National Trust car park. He was offered two choices – “Depends on which one you want your car broken into,” the cat hater concluded. In the event the tourist got directions to our sheep-filled car park and I waited for the Lees to return laden with snacks and drinks. They brought me a Diet Coke, which I drank on the spot.
Approaching St. Anchorite’s Rock
I started forward along the muck-filled track, getting retrospective views of the ruined church of St. Peter the Poor Fisherman below – while Tosh searched for a loo spot among the nettles behind a dumpster. We had Lord Revelstoke’s company for only a little longer because in less than a mile the Marine Drive turned inland and we had to leave it to continue forward, beginning with a very steep descent at Ivy Cove and the first of the day’s eight black arrow ascents on the opposite side. We crossed a number of walking parties under escort and one chap did a real double take when he saw me – but whether it was my Schnauzer t-shirt or my UCLA cap that set him off I do not know. A steep descent to a stream was followed by a stiff climb up to St. Anchorite’s Rock, where, at 12:45, I proposed we open the packed lunches provided for us by Mrs. Steer. There was an excellent selection of corned beef and pickle and egg mayonnaise sandwiches and I tucked in voraciously. Harold pelted me on the shoulder with his unwanted crisps and later I finished his corned beef sandwich also.
The need for additional sun blocker had ceased as we pushed forward after lunch under grey skies. Again we had a steep descent, this time down to Bugle Hole, and a stiff climb up the opposite side – “Bring me the Erme,” I muttered under my breath with every step. The route then passed through some woods and began another rapid decline, even assisted by steps at the end, to a little beach below Mothercombe village. Here we could at last see something of this afternoon’s great objective, the River Erme itself. Tosh and I spent a little time hunting for shells here, and then I pressed forward, climbing through the woods on Owens Point. On the other side there was a track down to the riverside again. It was 2:30 and we were only a few minutes early for our appointment.
The River Erme is a tidal river – and there was no ferry here. This means that walkers had to wade across at low water, a time that shifts every day. Tide tables have to be consulted and I had determined that if one wanted to cross at approximately three in the afternoon it had to be on July 3rd, today. Thus our June 30 departure and all the other stages of the trip were predicated on our arrival at this point at this time – and we had made it! Guidebooks say you can cross one hour on either side of the low water mark (today it was 2:49) but Mr. Steer had indicated that this could be stretched to an hour and a half. Therefore, over some green slime on what had been (only a few hours before) the seabed, we began the long passage from slipway to slipway – which is the recommended route.
Crossing the Erme
For most of this distance it was possible for us to wear our boots over a very uneven sandy surface, where sea worms were nesting on top of each exposed hillock. However, as we neared the river bed itself it became obvious that our boots would get quite a soaking and therefore each of us stripped to bare feet (I had brought a shopping bag in which to carry my boots and camera) and Harold lead off in the ankle deep waters of the river, whose gravelly bottom was very rough on my sore feet. I was thus relieved after only a few minutes of sloshing to reach firmer sand on the opposite shore and, near the slipway, Harold and I paused to dry our feet, brush off the sand, and replace our boots. Tosh decided to keep her scuffs on for a while and we headed seaward along the sands until Wonwell beach was reached. Here Harold and I rested on the beginning of the coast path while Tosh put her boots on.
I was tremendously exhilarated by the whole scene – the last of the physical impediments on the coast path conquered. Furthermore the riverside views were extraordinarily beautiful; there were very few people about (evidently the Flete Estate frowned on trippers) and except for a few people exercising dogs, we had the whole vast expanse of the estuary to ourselves. There were a few problems to spoil our joy; we now had five black arrows to conquer and just as we had rounded Fernycombe Point to begin our ascent of Beacon Point the rain began again.
It did not last long but we had to put on our raingear and climb the first two black arrows with rain blowing at us. By the time we had begun the descent to Freshwater, however, the skies had begun to brighten and this made the next climb more tolerable. Cows followed me down the hill to Westcombe Beach, slipping and skidding on the steep grass but somehow staying upright. A descent to Aymer Cove and a climb out of it brought a very strenuous section to an end – we weren’t doing much better than a mile an hour and Burgh Island and Bigbury-On-Sea never seemed to be getting any closer. It was 6:30 when we began a steep descent into the Challaborough trailer park, a site happily hidden from us until the end.
Tosh disappeared into a store to buy some newspapers and then we walked up a hill in order to reach the outskirts of Bigbury. I was certainly feeling the effects of this strenuous eleven and a half mile day on my feet and old folks from the caravan park were shadowing my every step as we reached the tarmac of Bigbury. Harold had failed to secure a brochure from our hotel here so there was some ambiguity about its whereabouts, though I suspected it was still a mile away on the east side of town. The Lees questioned anyone they could find on the abandoned streets but most of these people were either tourists or confused locals. Some of them had heard of the Henley Hotel but no one was quite sure where it was. At one point Harold headed uphill into town to ask at another hotel; here we met a young couple who had actually stayed at the Henley and were able to confirm my suspicions – we had to return to the coast road and head east. We were just opposite the buildings on Burgh Island here and the sandbar that separated the island from the mainland was just disappearing under the advancing sea.
The last half-mile was a very slow one for me, particularly as there was steep Folly Hill to climb, but at 7:35 we reached the foot of the stairs of the yellow-painted Henley (that is we were still together as a trio after I had warned Tosh not to sprint ahead at the end, which was her usual habit). “I had almost given up on you,” was the greeting of Martin Scarterfield, our host and chef, who showed us to very nice first floor rooms in this quite lovely seven-room hotel. There were both toilet and shower in my room and I was soon having a good clean-up. The trip across the Erme had ruined my tape, which, as it came off, revealed the full extent of the blistering that I had endured on the first four days of the walk. I actually lanced some of these blisters, but decided to let them breathe before re-taping the next day.
I was the first down for drinks on the veranda and I ordered a gin and tonic. Martin reminded the serving girl that there were chilled bottles of tonic in the fridge. The Lees soon joined me and we took turns looking through the binoculars at the wonderful scene spread out before us, with Burgh island to our right and the Avon Estuary to our left – one of the most beautiful viewpoints I had ever seen. Our meal was also superb. There were only two entrees on offer, duck a l’orange and poached salmon. Harold and I had the duck, Tosh the salmon. “Chef wants to know if you want regular sauce or hollandaise,” the waitress told Tosh. Harold had a glass of wine and Tosh and I each drank a bottle of pale ale. The veggies were also excellent and so were the Boozie Bananas for dessert. I called Dorothy and we then had coffee on the veranda as the light faded from the sky at last.
I was a bit stiff and sore so I took a sleeping pill at about midnight and thereafter had a very refreshing night’s sleep.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: