Day 63: Bude to Hartland Quay

The rabbits did not disturb my sleep, so I’m full of energy for what is regarded as the toughest day on the SWCP. Seventeen miles to cover, while climbing the height of Snowdon. The weather forecast is terrible, and it is raining as I pack.

I cut across the beach at Bude. There is an outdoor swimming pool, with a few hardy kids racing, and parents clustered under umbrellas. The smooth, algae-covered retaining wall runs down to the beach. Looks like a good route off the sand, until I start sliding backwards, despite the frantic use of my hiking poles. Best not make a fool of myself. I slink away to find an easier exit.

The path starts gently but, approaching Sandy Mouth Beach, why do I get that Lulworth Ranges feeling? The sea has taken great bites out of the green pastures.

GCHQ has loomed on the horizon for quite some time, and it is impressive close-up. What it is like to work here?

The wind and rain are getting stronger. I could do with a warm brew and some shelter. Higher Sharpnose Point is not what I had in mind. Bit draughty.

A little further and I see the sign for Hawker’s Hut, built into the cliff below. My first refuge. I am surprised to hear voices inside, and meet Jan and Will, both equally soaked. It is nice and cosy, despite the leaking roof. Once they move on, I brew up a hot mug of coffee, with apple cake that I bought at the cafe at Sandy Mouth Beach. It tastes unbelievably good.

The hut was built in 1837 by the eccentric clergyman, Robert Hawker, using wood from shipwrecks. He came here to smoke opium and write poetry. It’s the smallest property belonging to the National Trust.

Rejoining the path, there is a pretty bridge over Marsland Water, taking me from Cornwall to Devon.

The rain is relentless, and I am feeling a little cold, despite not having walked very far from Hawker’s Hut. To my delight, a second refuge appears, the Ronald Duncan hut. I strip off my wet gear, and make another cuppa, this time with a chocolate bar. Some of his poems are on the walls.

I sit reading the entries in the visitors’ book and add my own. There are some creative verses and quotes. I don’t really want to leave.

Back on the trail, I just manage to cross the stream in spate at Welcombe Mouth.

Near the end of the walk, I pass the roaring, magnificent waterfall at Speke’s Mill Mouth. This is why I hike, regardless of the weather.

The wonderfully named, Wrecker’s Retreat, awaits at Hartland Quay. Ominously, the car park is full of vans and trailers. The motorcycle National Hill Climb Association have booked out the entire pub, in preparation for a race the following day. Dripping wet, I’m hailed as a fellow hill climber, and they kindly let me have a table for a couple of hours. I wolf down a hot curry, and a large slice of chocolate fudge cake, with a couple of pints of Tribute. Just the best.

My time is up, but I’m invited to join another table. Tempting, but I should head out to find the campsite, which is a mile inland. Stepping outside, the sky is lit up with the most amazing colours.

I am somewhat bedraggled when I reach Stoke Barton Farm campsite. The farmer, Colin, is really helpful, and lets me pitch next to a hobbit hut with a shelter. I can also use the information room to dry out my gear and sleeping bag. He will give me a lift into Westward Ho! in the morning to catch a train home. I can’t hike on to Clovelly, as there is no bus service on a Sunday, and I need to get home tomorrow.

It has been a brutal, humbling, inspiring, and unforgettable day. I will sleep soundly tonight.

Walk distance: 17 miles.

Total distance: 893 miles.