Day 17 Elmscott to Clovelly

I was very tired yesterday when I reached the Youth Hostel. The warden made me a cup of tea and got me some taxi numbers as my plan was to meet the others at the pub at Hartland Quay. None of the three taxi companies could help so I sent Karen a message, settled into my bunk bedded room and made myself some dinner. The youth hostel is very conscientious about Covid. I had booked a room to myself and also had a loo, shower and kitchen of my own. I had with me an emergency dried meal so cooked that for my dinner. I also chatted to a family that had the other kitchen and a camper (in the garden, not enough rooms) who is hoping to walk the whole of the path. We exchanged blog addresses (mine) and You Tube channels (his) and wished each other luck.

Today I had had enough of ups and downs. I plotted a route parallel to the coast but inland which would take me just to the east of Hartland Point where the coast turns the corner to run roughly east-west rather than north-south.

After a broken microwave incident (cold porridge, calorific but that’s all you can say about it) at breakfast I headed off up the road, enjoying the gentle gradients of the step-free tarmac. I also enjoyed the views of Lundy-I could see it from my room.

I hit the coast just east of Hartland Point, where, walking down a country lane, I was startled to see a heliport

The path was gratifyingly flat. It wound around the top of cliffs instead of going down to the beaches. Sometimes it looked as if no-one had passed by for days. There were great views, an Iron Age hill fort, and a Bronze Age Barrow which went by the great name of Gallantry Bower.

Before I knew it- well not quite, there were two ups and downs, yep, right down to the beach- I was in parkland and had reached Clovelly.

Clovelly is a privately owned village and is pretty much just one steep, cobbled, street. There are no cars and locals use sleds to move shopping etc. There are donkeys for heavier loads apparently. During the day it is packed with people visiting (you have to pay to get in) but from about 4pm it starts to thin out and is empty by the evening. It is stunningly pretty but just a bit weird.

I had dinner at the bar, and got chatting to some other people (a man from Edinburgh and two women originally from Canada, but living in London) walking part of the Coast Path. Unlike me they were all camping. I however was glad that I could just stumble upstairs to a bath and bed.

And just for those who realise there can be no more Cornish pasty reviews…