June 23, 1996: Hallsands to Dartmouth
Looking back at Beesands and Widdecombe Ley
As was our habit on this trip, we prevailed on our hostess to serve us breakfast at 8:30; this would give us the early start we needed and allow us to finish our meal before the rest of the residents trailed in. It was a lovely sunny day again, a tad warmer than the previous day, but still fresh and bright.
We moved off at 9:10 and crossed the back of Hallsands Beach, where I picked up a lovely rounded black pebble that I carried in my pocket for the rest of the trip. Then it was up the hill I had been staring at from my bedroom window – in spite of its black arrow we did not find it too daunting and soon the route had leveled off. Ahead of us was a view of the beach at Beesands and we were soon on our way down to the village at the head of this long straightaway. There didn’t seem to be any shops open yet, but we knew our insatiable demand for drinks and snacks would be satisfied in Torcross, another mile on.
As we cleared the last bit of the strand and began our climb up the steep path (why no black arrow here?) alongside a quarry, we could see wonderful views of the route just completed as well as the small inland lake of Widdecombe Ley. No sooner had we completed the struggle to the top and rounded the back of the quarry when an equally stirring view of the northerly scene appeared: Torcross village, Slapton Sands and the freshwater Ley, and the hilly upland that we would be wandering about in the afternoon.
Slapton Ley on the left, with Torcross and the sea on the right
We circled to the north of the quarry and reached open ground where the locals were exercising their dogs. A steep descent brought us into the residential belt and I stepped off the trail once to use a parking lot as the site for an unobstructed picture of the Slapton scene. When we reached the bottom of a tarmac path Torcross village welcomed us with its seaside charms, and we headed inland briefly to the post office where we stocked up on snacks and liquid. I bought a bottle of Forest Fruit- flavored spring water and Harold succeeded in knocking over three more bottles as he fiddled with the contents of the freezer cabinet. Tosh bought some postcards and had a natter with the storekeeper and I went to the gents and drank a small box of pineapple juice.
We had no sooner cleared the last of the dwelling places at 10:40 when we sighted a black World War II tank across the road. It was one of the many local memorials to the Normandy invasion, which was rehearsed on this very beach – indeed a German sub had machine-gunned GIs as they carried out maneuvers here. It took Tosh a long time to read all the literature about these incidents and I was getting impatient to move on. We chose to use a path on the Slapton Ley side of the roadway; our views were mostly of bird-filled reed beds but the Lees were tremendously excited by all the unique wildflowers at our feet. After about a mile I suggested we try the seaward side of the road and so we left a sandy trod for a mixture of sand and gravel (and some new, more maritime species of flowers). Near the end of the beach there was another monument, this an American one thanking the residents for giving up their accommodation to the army of invasion, and a kiosk from which the Lees bought coffee and I a Diet Coke. “Now here’s a big difference between the England of now and the one of a decade ago,” I said, “now when you buy a soft drink, it’s really ice cold.” We climbed a hillock that separated two parking areas and had our drinks.
Then we continued on to the very end of the beach, fighting our way through an overgrown patch of path, with the main road turning uphill to the left and our route following a lane in a more northwesterly direction, also uphill, cutting off a corner of the A379 and becoming a path that deposited us once again on the highway, just south of the village of Strete. Here I expected to find a place for lunch and I had interviewed last night’s publican on this likelihood. He told us to keep an eye out for the King’s Arms and to do this I ignored a Coast Path turnoff that bypassed most of the village and continued forward against whizzing traffic until we had spotted the aforementioned hostelry. It had just gone 12:00.
We found a welcoming corner, ordered our lager, and then had a look at the menu. Tosh and I had the crab ploughmans – which were very delicious. “Is the loo inside,” I asked Harold?” “Yes,” he replied. “Do you think it would be okay if I went there in my stocking feet?” This I did, having continued my practice of taking off my boots whenever possible. Tosh had been gathering flowering specimens and now asked the barflies to identify them. The verdict was cranesbill, campion, and periwinkle, but a lady at the next table denounced this diagnosis – “Periwinkle! That flower isn’t even blue.”
We had a nice leisurely lunch and then I lead us up a side street to a lane which I was sure marked the continuation of the coast path. We were now in the midst of one of the more controversial sections of the route, an inland diversion of several miles – a necessity since rights of way had yet to be negotiated on the coast itself. There weren’t many signs about – as though the path planners didn’t want to solemnize this aberration with anything as permanent as a finger post. I was glad I had the ordnance survey maps in the National Trail Guide to provide reassurance that the lanes and byways we used for the next few miles were the correct ones.
Our first track did a dogleg to the right and deposited us on the A379 again. After another right-hand bend we took the less traveled Widewell lane, a track that was embowered in hedgerows. The skies had become a bit more cloudy here and the air was humid as we descended to another tarmac track and plunged downhill to the beachside community at Blackpool Sands. A final short stretch on the A379 brought us to a roadway that headed away from the beach on the opposite side of the valley we had just descended. There were a number of lovely cottages, some thatched, in this region, and we were promised a garden half a mile ahead – but I warned Tosh that we were likely to turn off before reaching it. We walked in the shadows of overhanging trees and soon found a fingerpost pointing uphill. Our path was quite steep and also slippery – since the route seemed to coincide with a streambed for some distance. We continued to climb for some time, then leveled off on a track that turned briefly coastward before straightening out and heading for the church tower of Stoke Fleming.
Shortly before our arrival in this village we encountered a local lady, revisiting sites of her youth, after a life aboard the QE2. I was a bit impatient with biography at this point since I was hoping, at about 2:40, that we would still be in time for another drink at the Green Dragon in Stoke – if we again bypassed the coast path bypass. We were. It was getting sunny again and I put up an umbrella at an outside table and we watched the local teenagers race up and down the street in their cars while a little boy drank a shandy and ate crisps with his parents.
When it was time to leave I had to restudy my guidebook in order to get us re-launched along Rectory Lane. We met a doddering old gent on his way to the pub and followed a tarmac path to Venn Lane, turning off this onto Ravensbourne Lane and then a minor country road that descended to cross a stream and then climbed uphill past Redlap (where Tosh took offence at all the signs warning walkers to keep out) – before reaching a parking area where a true coast path began anew.
We crossed several stiles and dropped steeply toward the sea, our views to the north, over wheat fields filled with poppies, once again providing delightful vistas full of sailboats – with much of the coastline we would follow the next day in the distance. We reached Warren Point and turned left to follow the cliff tops, several times having major climbs to get around the steep combes. I was often well behind on these stretches, as I usually am on any lengthy stretch of uphill, and when I found the Lees waiting for me I told Tosh that I didn’t want to see her go into her usual attack mode now that we were nearing the end of our twelve mile day. She pretended not to know what I meant. “I mean whenever we get near the end, you race ahead to nearest toilet and leave me in the dust. If you want to use a toilet I’m sure you can find one at Dartmouth Castle.” Somewhat chastened, she adopted a more civilized pace as we reached the often paved outskirts of civilization. Kingswear castle was across the estuary and Dartmouth Castle below us on the right – though we decided not to pay it a visit after all.
On the left: Dartmouth
We had a rest on a park bench as we neared the road into town and soon reached the attractive precincts of Dartmouth; I kept my eyes on the ferries as we passed the busy riverfront scene and we tried to locate another bakery where we could get sandwiches for the next day. Unfortunately Victoria Street, though a kind of town high street, didn’t quite reach the waterfront and it took us a while to locate both it and our hotel, The Victoria. It was 5:50.
Again we soon met downstairs for a drink – I had a double gin and tonic – and then booked a table for 8:00. The bar scene was again of interest. Annie, the proprietress, had to refuse credit to a lounge lizard who was being advised on what to do with his miserable life now that his royalty checks were drying up. “Give up the booze,” one friend advised. “I like the occasional lager or two,” the ex-musician replied. “You mean you like the occasional barrel or two,” the barman added.
My postage stamp-sized room on the front of the hotel had a nice shower and so I got cleaned up and put on my tan pants and pink plaid shirt. We had another drink in the lounge while waiting for our table and then dined on lobster, which the waitress had been coyly touting – though it was pretty hard and dry. I drank another Diet Coke. After dinner we had a nice stroll along the waterfront, checked out the ferry, and returned for an early, though, in my case, noisy night.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: