Day 11 More socialising

I woke to the sound of rain on the tent. It stopped, then started again. Today I was catching the ferry to Rock to have a late breakfast with a friend.

What’s that? Catch the ferry? Am I not supposed to be walking all the way? If you read, as I have, blogs about walking to or from John O’Groats, you will find that each blog writer has rules. The main rule is-don’t catch any ferries. My rules don’t include that. I like foot ferries, and besides, I think it’s the only one.

But first, there was work to be done. The rain had stopped so I packed up my wet tent and walked into Padstow to buy lunch. Lunch procured, I caught the ferry (£3.00 fare), and walked uphill to meet Chloe and Ollie who were staying with Ollie’s parents. Chloe is quite heavily pregnant so, after catching up on other matters we had a happy time discussing babies. Well-breakfasted (shakshuka, Chloe is an excellent cook) electrics fully charged, I set off at midday for Port Isaac. My guidebook told me I had 11.5 miles to go. It also told me that “there are a few steep-sided valleys” between Port Quin and Port Isaac “but they are not too difficult”. For the first few miles I made good time, I enjoyed the views of the Camel estuary, and watched the people surfing.

Today was again a day of headland skipping. I cut across inland to miss Pentire, and, in a small valley, I sat down for lunch.

I know some of you were feeling a little concerned that I had stopped eating pasties. It’s more a question of supply. However today we have a chough pasty. When Rachel suggested in a comment that I try one of these, for a split second, I had the dreadful thought that this was some pasty made from… choughs. No, I dismissed that thought and decided it must be some strange autocorrect. It turns out that the Chough Bakery in Padstow does indeed make pasties, and award winning ones at that. So, what are my thoughts? Pastry pretty solid, this pasty won’t fall apart before lunch. Good crimping. Filling-again for the sake of comparison I chose the steak pasty-pretty good, quite oniony, slightly spicy. Overall, I’d put this second, displacing Philps of Hayle.

After lunch the nature of the Path changed. The cliffs reappeared and for some reason I felt scared. I think it just seemed much wilder, and the cliffs went steeply down. Objectively, it was no different from a few days ago, so I’m not sure why it disturbed me so much. I pressed on to Port Quin, a hamlet which seemed to be owned by the National Trust.

After Port Quin the steep-sided valleys mentioned in the guidebook kicked in. They were steep with steps cut into the hillside. Steps that were just too high to be easy to use. The sign at Port Quin said it was three miles to Port Isaac. It was a very long three miles.

Doyden Castle, a prominent landmark, is a folly that is now a National Trust holiday cottage that you can rent. One bedroom. Might be quite fun, but no WiFi. So better bring books. Or other non-electronic entertainment. Eventually, after that very long three miles, Port Isaac hove into view. I was feeling pretty tired so when the opportunity arose to -you guessed it -skip a headland, I grabbed it and took the inland path.

Port Isaac is very pretty. It is the setting for the TV programme Doc Martin which is about a GP. I’ve only watched part of one episode, so I can’t point out his house/the surgery/any other location. My Airbnb was right at the top of the village -another steep hill- but was comfortable and had a bath (walker bliss). I spent the evening with my feet up, reading.