When I reached South Sands in Salcombe, Devon on the twenty seventh day of the walk (which would make it… March 3rd) I made the decision to call it a day after a particularly difficult section of coast. For an average, fit bloke of my age it wouldn’t have been all that difficult but the way my hip and foot had been playing up recently just made it hell to carry on. That night I treated myself to an awesome 3 course meal and a few beers at the Tides Reach hotel and made arrangements to get home the day after.

In the morning I packed my stuff and went down for breakfast, then waited in the bar for my mum and her fiancé to come and pick me up which was AWESOME of them. Driving for 6 hours just to pile me and my pack into the car, then to drive for 6 hours back is a seriously heroic thing to do and I am so grateful! Anyway, that’s the short story. I have been home over a month now and since then I’ve attempted to fix my injuries, get a job and slowly but surely get outside and walking properly again. Many, many people have asked whether I will carry it on this year and I might as well go ahead and say now that I won’t be.

I’ve decided at this stage my body won’t cope with so many miles carrying so much. Friends and family have all joked with me about cutting my daily mileage down to 5 miles but then I’d be away from home for over 3 years if I wanted to do it all in one go, that’s just silly. I’d like to go out and find some of the nice places I know I’ve missed out on and walk a few of them when I have the time and money but right now I’ve landed a pretty cool summer job and I’m focusing on getting my outdoor pursuits training out of the way this year!

I’d like to think you lot are still interested in my adventures, even if they aren’t what you originally thought. So if it’s fine by you I thought I’d rebrand slightly and continue blogging anything I deem adventurey enough Loads of other people do shit like that but they are usually bald or wear bright orange hiking jackets and write about birds and flowers.

Thanks for all the kind words & support so far and I hope you carry on following!

I packed up at 7:30 and went down to the house where I was originally offered a bacon sandwich but they ended up surprising me with a bowl of cereal, coffee and a full English which was awesome. Judy sent me off with a copy of the south west coast path book which explained the route a bit better for me, I thanked them both and head off up the road to rejoin the coast at Start Point. Meeting the coast path I followed it down to beach level where it then went back up quite steeply and I came across a cliff collapse diversion. This took me all the way up a silly road into a valley and back to within sight of the farm! I checked my map and found a quicker route to access the hilltop – a very steep bridle path which brought me out near the village of East Prawle. I wandered through the village green and a guy pointed towards the coast, laughed and said “London is that way!” to which I replied “…no I don’t think it is. London is ‘that’ way”, pointing to…well London. He said “Oh so it is, well…New York is that way then”. I did a little fake laughy and carried on up the road, only to walk past him again a minute later realising I’d walked the wrong way. I’d been asked to stop by the Prawle Point Lookout Station a few days ago so I head over towards that, another bumpy ride along the cliffs.

The winds were seriously picking up now and my hip was being a massive pain. Scrambling up the hill to the lookout station I found myself at the southernmost point of Devon, where the watch keepers were able to see all along the coast between Salcombe and start point. The volunteers invited me in and made me a coffee while I loitered, looking at their cool gadgets. I sat and listened to their shipping radio for a bit and overheard a conversation between a large Indian ship and the Brixham coastguard – the ship had an engine failure but was apparently carrying dangerous cargo, all described in call signs instead of names so I couldn’t understand what it actually was. The Indian guy was very polite and eventually they sorted their shit out and moved on. One of the volunteers was a very forgetful old man with a slight German accent who asked me three or four times where I’d come from and where I was heading to, sounding just as surprised and impressed every time I told him. Here they had a really primitive toilet and no running water, phone signal or Internet so I still hadn’t had a real chance to wash my hands since I packed up this morning

Heading out I checked the map again and noticed that all the headland and rock formations here were called something to do with pigs. Even the pub in Prawle was called the Pigs Nose and there were other names like Gammon Head or Ham Stone. I saw no pigs and smelled no bacon so I was curious, I never found out why. Clambering up and down over the harsh terrain I eventually had to stop because my hip was so bad. It was burning and I felt close to tears from the pain, eventually deciding to dose up on painkillers and sit a while. I took the opportunity that a few bars of signal gave me to stop made a few phone calls up here but ended up staying for almost an hour, really not looking forward to putting my hip through all that again.

Eventually I had to continue, although the area was beautiful I was in too much pain to appreciate it and there wasn’t a soul or even a building for miles around – well, that I could see anyway. The “path”, more like a rock climbing route had a steep upward slope heading inland and a near enough shear drop towards the sea so the only way to go was either back the way I’d come or further on towards Salcombe. I staggered slowly along the remaining cliff path and up a few sheep covered hills and came to a small stream where I met a woman and her two daughters who were very friendly. I didn’t stop long and decided to head inland slightly and take the footpath down through the woods to Mill Bay instead of follow the coast route which would take twice as long. I hit a construction site pretty soon after and lost sight of the path but a nice young couple walking their dogs pointed me in the right direction, so I stumbled on down the hill towards the riverbank – feeling like I was dragging a dead leg at this point. For the last few days I’ve barely been able to lift my right leg to step over a stile due to the hip and now the top of my left foot was starting to feel a bit dodgy too.

Hitting the beach at Mill bay I could see Salcombe just across the river and I made my way to the ferry crossing up the road in East Portlemouth. I was sat here for about 40 minutes waiting for the ferryman to finish his lunch break but I was soon over on the other side, £1.50 worse off but I’d skipped at least 15 miles of walking upriver to cross. I’d been sorted a room at a hotel up in South Sands about a mile and a half back towards the coast on this side of the river so before I head over I had a pint and some chips at a pub on the waterfront in Salcombe. The last little bit to the hotel was agonising up hill but eventually I made it where I am now, showered off the stinky cow essence and thinking about having some dinner. I only managed 10 miles today but after two relatively sleepless nights and if you take a look at today’s photos you’ll see why! Mental.

I didn’t get any breakfast right away, I hadn’t bought supplies and no shops were open at this time of the morning so I just began walking – picking up a stone in my boot fairly quickly. I kept saying to myself that I’d stop to get it out but it was keeping me awake so I left it there for a good few miles while I adjusted to the day ahead. Picking up the coast path at Roundham Head I marched on to Brixham, where I stopped by the harbour to have a coffee and some breakfast. Brixham was alright but it was pretty much dead. The coast path was more lively than the towns this morning with dog walkers and early morning runners about.

Passing through the rest of Brixham I made my way to Berry Head, where I came across the ruins of an old fort which was pretty cool. Thinking the path went through it I wandered around here for a while, finally realising it was closed off with high walls and a deep moat area on all sides so I head back to find the actual path. The signs around here were pretty confusing. I wandered in a circle for about 15 minutes trying to find the right gate and eventually made it and on towards St. Mary’s Bay and eventually Sharkham Point.

The trail after Sharkham Point started to wind uphill like a snake, eventually I came to the top and onto level ground for a little bit before plodding down quite a steep hill and into a boggy area called Mansands. From here on the path took me round Scabbacombe Head and into Kingswear, a village on the east side of the Dart River. Making my way down the winding roads I finally got to the jetty and took the ferry over to Dartmouth. I saw my first seals in the river here and they were big ones too, again they were too far away or moving around too much to take good photos but they were pretty funny guys flapping about with their fishies.

I stocked up at the shop in Dartmouth and made my way up to the back roads out of town and towards Stoke Fleming. The track was a right squeeze for a car as it was but a tractor, closely followed by a stream of cars decided to try and get past me down here. In the end I was forced to basically sit in the bush while they passed but it didn’t last long and I was on my way again. By now I was actually feeling pretty drained, so I sat down and called a few people to force my qualms upon them which made me feel a little better. After taking a few strong drugs and some other weird tablets for my hip pain I skipped the main road and continued along the farm tracks into Stoke Fleming where I located the coast path.

It had been pretty flat between Dartmouth and where I was now but as soon as I hit Blackpool (not the Blackpool I’d prefer to be in right now…) the path took a turn for the worse and began to look really up and down, all the way to Strete. I found out later that this spot was nicknamed Heart Attack Hill and the name fit. It was madness trying to scale it, especially with a bag on – but I made it eventually and made my way into Strete where I stopped at the Kings Arms for a few pints to chill out after almost 12 hours of walking! The guys in there were really cool, they took an interest and the lady who owned it filled up my water and let me charge my phone. One of the locals slung me a tenner for some food and another bought me anoint as we exchanged stories of our travels. I left about 5:30 and as I was walking out, I was offered a bag of crisps and some peanuts for the last little bit of today’s walk.

It ended up being a bit more than “a little”. Heading over the hills and down onto the shingle bar I munched away at my snack shaped donations and struggled across the uneven beach to Torcross. It was pretty much pitch black now, that beach seemed like it would never end and the light had faded fast. I followed the road through Torcross and up a set of steps onto the cliffs and back down again, switching on my torch. The sea was right up against the rocks now and the path was only a few feet away from it so I got a little wet making my way back up onto the sea wall. Here is where I got really freaked out. I was looking around for the steps back up onto the coast path and found something that looked promising so I followed it up. The steps I found were as steep as a ladder and probably about 100 years old, all overgrown by brambles. True to habit I didn’t think about turning back and fought my way up through the overgrown steps to the cliff top in the dark and found it to be stupidly dense when I finally made it. I looked around a while for a way out and found the tiny path leading west, with the steep bank to my left. After only stepping a few metres the ground underneath my feet pretty much disappeared and left me leaning over the railing hovering above the high tide below!

I scrambled back to the bank and looked for a way out, finally finding one just above me where it seems like a few people had already made this mistake. I clambered up the brambly bank and came to an old brick wall with a hole in, which I climbed through and ended up on the actual coastal path. I was so relieved I was finally on flat ground, my hands were shaking and I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life – AND my nightmare almost came true. It’s pretty typical of me really, I’ve only been gone 4 weeks and I’m drumming up a reputation of being accident prone.

Earlier today I was offered a barn to pitch my tent in by a farmer and his wife so I gave them a ring and apologised for being late. They told me to make my way down to Beesands, only a mile or so short of where they were and they’d pick me up from the pub there. Heading down the slope to the beach there I passed some men who were night fishing in the sea. As I crashed across the pebbles their head torches spun around one by one to find out what all the noise was about but they left me to it.

I was picked up not long after and brought back to the farm where I am now sat, after pitching my tent on a bed of hay using breeze blocks to hold down the guy ropes in the barn. I’m sharing the barn with about 20 cows though and they won’t shut the hell up. They keep farting and eating loudly but it’s better than kipping out in that horrible wind. I managed 30 miles today, which I never thought I’d bother attempting nor did I believe I’d achieve it but I’m here now, absolutely shattered. Tomorrow I don’t know where I’m heading for, too tired to look.

The day was pretty gloomy and the sea was rough but I was feeling a lot better after letting my body recover. The railway line ran pretty much alongside the sea and the waves were seriously mental. They would crash up the sea wall and straight over the train, which was a little unnerving. The ticket lady looked like a younger version of Ms. Trunchbull from Matilda too, but I escaped the train at Starcross and wandered out onto the street to join the coast path. I pretty much got lost straight away and as the tide was in the sea wall path looked pretty dangerous. I was approached by a guy who asked me if I needed any help so I happily explained what I was doing and he pointed me in the right direction. Heading up and over the cliffs at Dawlish I followed the footpaths to the main road. As soon as I started walking down the pavement I heard a car horn. Looking up, the guy was making hand signals to me as if to ask if I was heading in ‘that’ direction, I’m guessing to offer me a lift. I declined by waving him off and as he pulled out into the main road we exchanged a thumbs up like we were bro’s for life. shortly after I came up to a small footpath, where this big crazy ass dog was barking at basically everything. I started to walk past it and heard someone running up behind me, so I turned around and there was this woman looking really frightened rushing to get in front of me. Once we’d passed the dog she explained that it was there every day and she gets scared passing it on the way to work, usually taking the longer route on the road instead. She then said that she felt safe enough with me there to pass it, allowing her to get to work quicker. I felt like a mighty hero after this, saving damsels in distress and slaying dragons.

Between Dawlish and Teignmouth I walked along the main road, surrounded by roadworks and cars for ages. Finally getting into Teignmouth after a pretty boring and sightless wander I made my way down through the quiet seafront to the ferry crossing. The place was deserted so I called the number on the ferry ‘A’ board and the guy said he’d be over to pick me up in a second. When he arrived I jumped aboard and he took me across the harbour to Shaldon, where I followed the beach up to The Ness, a big old cliff looking over Teignmouth. Rejoining the coastal path up here I followed it up and down over the cliffs to Labrador Bay, where I caught a glimpse of some dolphins flip-flapping about just out to sea but my crappy phone camera wouldn’t pick them up when I tried to take shots. It wasn’t as impressive as it sounds, I’m sure I’ll get some more chances to see them later on in the year.

This part of the cliff top walk was seriously steep and every 5 minutes I was stopping to catch my breath and have some water. It was raining on and off all day but I would have preferred it to just keep raining to cool me down. I sat down to have my lunch on a bench overlooking Mackerel Cove but there was a silly little robin who kept jumping about and generally being a dick trying to steal my sandwiches. Once I was done I carried on for a while but ended up walking into a cloud of midges. I took one right in the eye and spent the rest of the walk to Babbacombe trying to blink it out.

Passing Maidencombe and Watcombe, fighting the urge to pop into a pub and get a beer I wandered through the open woodland on the cliffs – feeling a bit like I was on mars with all the red dirt and gigantic trees around. I reached the top and passed the golf course and into the beginnings of Torquay where I followed the last of the coastal path around Hopes Nose, the city’s most eastern point and down towards the harbour. Along here there was a view of an ‘island’ (more of a rock) called East Shag, right next to Daddyhole Cove. I took this opportunity to laugh out loud like this – “ha”, then continued on my merry way to the seafront. It was school kicking out time about now and after buying some supplies I walked past a group of kids who thought it would be nice to take the piss out of my gloves of all things. These fingerless gloves have got me into trouble before, if you have been reading for a while now you’ll remember old Alan from the Witterings back in the first week who didn’t like them that much either. I’m pretty sure Gandalf wears them and he doesn’t have to take any of that shit.

I was heading for Paignton tonight, where a free room at the Park Hotel had been arranged for me. There was only 4 miles to go now so I sat and chilled a while by Torquay harbour before hobbling off to finish today’s trip. Walking down the main road into Paignton was made easier by a few phone calls with some mates, this kept my mind off my aching feet and the rain on my face. Arriving at the hotel I dumped my gear, got cleaned up and head round the corner to a pub where I ordered up some food. I realised now that I’d managed to actually make an entire day without any mud! This was good news, spring is here. So anyway, having ordered my food I was sat in the corner – I’d like to think I look really mysterious like Aragorn when he was at the inn in Bree and the hobbits were all like “hey who’s that? He looks like a pretty cool guy” but I think most of the people in the pub just thought I looked like a loser. I felt better when I realised that none of them looked like they could read anyway so I scoffed my dinner and I’m now safely back in the hotel watching Transformers on the telly. Today is the first day in a while that I’ve hit my daily mileage target, at least 20 miles today – maybe more! Tomorrow I set sail for Torcross, past Dartmouth.

Obviously with my luck lately this was easier said than done, as I opened the gate to the field I immediately came across a thin wire fence with plastic posts surrounding the entire inner field. I walked alongside the fence for a while, down towards the field boundary where I could see the railway line up the bank just ahead – this was blocked by barbed wire and mud though, so I couldn’t get out that way. The inner fence went right up to the field boundary so I looked at it for a second and coming to the conclusion that there was no other way I straddled it to get over. No sooner had my trousers touched the wire I felt a thud and that weird sicky pain feeling that only comes with an electric shock. I stood there for a second believing that if I didn’t move I wouldn’t get shocked again but that didn’t work, I got shocked a second time on the inside of my leg which got me throwing the rest of my body over the fence and face first into the mud on the other side.

I won’t go pointing any fingers but if it hadn’t have been for my silly hip I would have been able to jump the fence no problemo. I scrambled about a bit, got back up – finding it difficult with the bag on my back – and hobbled over to the actual gate to the footpath, the insides of my legs throbbing from the zippy zappy menace. The gate Amy had told me to open was locked anyway (typical) so I climbed it and sat down on the bench conveniently placed nearby to catch my breath. I realised now that I’d left without filling up my water bottle too, so I just got up and quickly made my way down the old railway towards Exmouth. This cycle route was pretty much the Devon version of our Cuckoo Trail back home so it was easy to follow and brought me straight to the train station on the bank of the river Exe. After stopping to get supplies I sat on a bench and ate a Muller Rice and tried out a new discovery…the Cherry Bakewell Flapjack. These things are awesome, they are made by Devonvale or something so I hope they aren’t only sold here or I’ll cry.

Checking my route I followed the Exe Estuary Trail all the way up to Lympstone, dodging roadworks and crossing the railway line here and there. Making my way through the village I came to a bridge just after the station where I had a choice of paths to take. I took the footpath further down my side of the track instead of crossing and following the cycle path, which turned out to be a mistake. The path took me over the track and away from the river up towards a private estate. Stopping here I took my bag off and noticed a woman gardening just up ahead so I took the opportunity to ask for directions and fill my water bottle. I guess getting lost turned out to be a little productive after all. The woman seemed so sure that I’d said I was on my way to Exmouth and not Exeter that she kept giving me alternative ways of going the wrong way, even after I said I was going up river multiple times. Eventually I just said thanks and walked off back the way I’d come, all the while she was shouting other directions over the fence after me! Making my way back to the badly signposted bridge from earlier I gave up looking for a way onto the cycle path and just hopped the fence by a locked national rail gate.

From here on out it was pretty dire views. I saw a few runners and plenty of cyclists but nobody around here was friendly enough to even smile. Coming up to the Royal Marine training camp just past Lympstone I could see all the firing ranges and assault courses in the grounds which was pretty interesting, no soldiers today though. Heading north I passed through the village of Exton and on towards Topsham where I’d been recommended a pub called the Passage House Inn, by the ferry crossing. Slowly but surely I made it to the pub where I sat down and had a few pints. The staff and locals were very friendly and let me charge my phone behind the bar. The food looked amazing but I really couldn’t afford to keep ordering meals like this so I stuck to my beer and told myself I’d eat my leftover bread and cheese a bit later.

I stuck around for a while and rinsed their wifi while I relaxed, then set off once more towards Exeter, my last port of call today. Up here the views were just getting worse and I was stuck with roads, bridges, housing estates and swampy rubbish so I just kept my head down and put one foot in front of the other. I eventually made it to the country park in the centre of the river, just south of Exeter Quays. The scenery got slightly better here but I still didn’t concentrate on it all that much on my way into the city, although the freshly cut grass reminded me of summer. Finally trudging up the riverside and into the quays I started to see more and more students but the place still seemed pretty quiet compared to your usual city. It was nice, I felt quite relaxed here and the buildings were pretty cool. Tonight I was going to be staying with Mark and Annie, friends of Polly’s parents so I had arranged to meet them by the quays. As I was walking across one of the bridges I started to think about whether they’d call me soon when Annie spotted me and introduced herself! As it turns out Mark was still at work and Annie didn’t even have my number so she had just come down to see if she could find me.

We took a short walk to her car and I got a lift back to their place. I’m now clean, chilled out and about to have dinner – well deserved after todays crappy slog along the East Devon pavements. My hip is a little better but now my calves have replaced it as the number one bringer of suffering, I can’t win! Keeping my distances shorter to allow my body to heal a bit I’ve still managed around 15 miles today. I know I say it every day but I’m hoping tomorrow will be more exciting, maybe I’ll see a dragon or be visited by Korean Jesus or something.

I packed and gave my thanks before leaving, heading down the road I came up to get back to the cliffs. I went up what I thought was the right road but it ended up being just a farm track with a dead end, so again – rather than just turning around and going back like any normal person would do – I tried to find a gap in the hedge and climb through to the road. The hedge itself was growing out of a sort of embankment so finally finding a hole big enough to fit through I still had to scramble up it. I couldn’t fit through with my bag on so I took it off and jammed it through the gap and onto the bank, climbing up after it. I got caught in brambles once again and put my hand in a patch of stinging nettles too which wasn’t pleasant but myself and the bag made it safely(ish) to the other side, the ACTUAL road I thought I was on before.

After all that hassle so early on I was up for a gentle day so I plodded along the footpath to Weston Cliffs and rejoined the coast path towards Sidmouth. The day was fairly hazy and I couldn’t really see where the sea ended and the sky began! This path brought me steadily up and down some very thin cliff top trails, ending with a nice big not so subtle set of steps to the hill above Sidmouth. By the time I’d made it up I was knackered and felt like a packet of Uncle Bens boil in a bag rice, even though it was freezing cold.

Up to this point I’d not seen a single person but wandering over the hill I came across a family who were rushing around getting pictures of pretty much everything. They were all dressed in funny colours so I immediately assumed they were German, but they turned around and head in the same direction as me when I approached and found out that they were actually very English indeed. Ever so English in fact that they didn’t want anything to do with me when I passed them and said good
morning but I should be used to this by now. Looking over Sidmouth I couldn’t help but notice the sea being a very red colour. Shortly after I made it into the town and I could see the cliffs on the other side were also red, I’m guessing some sort of clay or sandstone. I wandered through the town for a while looking for a quiet cafe to have some food and a coffee but I had to settle for a fairly bustling chip shop called the White Horse, which evidently was opposite the Black Horse – but that was an Inn.

I ordered up sausage, egg & chips with a coffee and got rid of it fairly quickly before setting off again up over the cliffs to the west. Walking along the seafront I walked under the first set of cliffs and found it covered in hundreds of carvings, some dating back years but the majority fairly recent. Most were hearts and names and all that crap but a few were actually pretty good pieces of art. Following the road for a little while I passed through a kissing gate to a path leading steeply up to the hill, where I walked through a field full of fluffy ponies (not donkeys) and had a pretty good view of Sidmouth and the cliffs I’d just walked.

I followed the cliff path down to Ladram Bay, passing through a pretty desolate area of scrubland covered in what looked like huge bonfire sites. A signpost at the gate said that it was a fire danger area and that nobody was to light cigarettes, start fires or cause sparks in general or the whole place would go up in flames. I was almost tempted to do all of those things to see what would happen but that would be naughty and I am a good boy. Walking down from the land of flames I trudged through a surprisingly green bit of woodland towards the caravan park at Ladram Bay. The view of the red cliffs was pretty good here but I didn’t stick around long.

I walked along the cliff top for about 4 miles and head down the slope into Budleigh Salterton. I saw the river on the map a while back and knew I’d probably have to head inland to cross it but that didn’t stop me poking around at the estuary for a ford, seeing as the tide was out. As I made my way down the bank I saw a sign saying it is forbidden to cross the river here even at low tide as it is dangerous, so there lay my answer I turned around and followed the path up to the bridge which was about half a mile inland. Crossing the bridge and trudging all the way back to the coast I found myself about 15 feet from where I was standing half an hour before. Walking up the seafront I asked for directions to a shop and ended up in a co-op in the high street.

I met today’s bad guy in here, nearing the end of the day. There was this kid who was in there with his mum and he just wouldn’t stop being a big fat jerk. He was running around knocking everything off the shelves and ‘flying’ this toy bus in his hand around and making silly noises really loudly, followed by crashing it into my bag. His mum wasn’t really doing a lot to control him either. I swear he had the devils eyes. After resupplying and trying to recover from being bullied by a 5 year old I took the road behind the high street up to the cliff path which took me up to the golf course overlooking the river Exe. I had managed to land a room at a farm just shy of Exmouth so I came off the coast path and went down into the woods south of the old railway line. I was so confident I’d manage an entire day without seeing any mud but that day was not today. Slowly plodding up under the railway bridge and onto the farm track I made it to Quentance Farm where a lady called Amy sorted me out with a room.

I’m impressed with my distance today, about 15 miles, even if I didn’t make it all the way into Exmouth. My hip has been behaving a little better while I walk but isn’t all that great now I’ve started to relax. Next stop is Exeter, all being well.

As the tide was going out I was able to plod along the sand for the most part. I started making my way over big area covered in large rocks which was a bit of fun trying to get across, looking back every now and then at the awesome view of the cliffs with the sun behind them. Hopping from rock to rock in front of the recent land slips I started to see parts of rusty old everyday objects between the stones. Old bike parts, copper pipe, chair legs, chimney stacks and even bits of a car. When I looked up it seems that I had been picking my way through the remains of a cliff top house that had fairly recently slipped into the sea, which was a bit eerie.

Hitting Lyme Regis just before 10 I walked down the promenade and caught just enough BT wifi to upload a few photos before heading through the town and toward the under cliff footpath. Lyme Regis was pretty dead this morning, nobody on the beach apart from some school children on a trip and barely anyone in the streets near the seafront. I got a little bit lost up ahead and wandered into a bowls green where a funny old man was mowing the lawn. He looked at me as if wondering what I was doing in there so I asked him for directions and he sent me on my way towards the woodland to the west. Angela has told me this morning that the undercliff walk would be right up my street, it’s a 120 year old landslip that’s grown into a large gnarled forest which she said was quite Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings-esque with trees growing in silly directions and the ground literally moves beneath your feet.

Through here I was quite grateful I didn’t have my pack, I was able to hop along the footpath and up & down the steep parts fairly quickly. Angela was right, I did enjoy it through here. It was 4 hours of feeling like I was literally in Jurassic Park. The area seemed almost tropical with its own little rivers and creepers and vines hanging between the huge trees. About half way along the path to Seaton there were signs warning walkers to be careful where they step as that area was prone to freak landslips. I took care through here but as I walked over the cracks in the ground they grew noticeably bigger and I was worried that the trees on the bank to my right would just uproot, fall over and squish me dead. This might have sounded ridiculous but all over the place were trees that had done just that. Many had just fallen over but some landslips had caused many trees to actually snap in two and leave splintered tree wrecks in middle of the path.

Finally making it out of the danger zone I carried on for a while through the undercliff woodland, noticing it getting colder. Eventually it started to rain a little so I found a spot under some dense canopy to sit and eat my bread and cheese I’d packed. By this point I still hadn’t seen a soul up here so it was quite nice to have some peace and quiet. By the time I had finished lunch the rain had cleared up anyway so I head up the final steep part of the path towards Seaton. It was about here that a number of steps up the hill had actually cracked and collapsed, so I was back on my hands and knees trying to scale the hill. You know the type of steps I mean? The ones that come in sets of about 30 and are more like a ladder than a set of stairs and even when they are intact you wonder how the hell you’re going to make it up or down them. Again I was glad to not be carrying my bag here.

As I reached the end of the undercliff walk I saw a group of old hikers heading towards me but they passed very quickly. I followed the path down from the cliffs across Axmouth golf course to Seaton where I stopped to check my route. I had never felt as much of a tramp as I did today. I expect I looked like one with my shabby beard, fingerless gloves and an old drawstring bag with my belongings in it so I am hoping that this is the only reason why nobody wanted to talk to me today. It was here that I’d also realised I’d crossed the border into another realm, this time it’s Devon. I wasn’t very impressed with Seaton (sorry Seaton) so I made my way up the seafront to rejoin the coast path near the cliffs. Following the road up I found a sign saying that yet another section of path was closed due to collapses and the diversion took me along the main road towards the village of Beer which sat on the cliff overlooking Seaton.

By now I was feeling a little nervous without my bag. A bit like when I feel nervous if I can’t see the sea. My bag is my home this year and I felt a bit like a snail without its shell so I called up Nick and he agreed to drop it to me when I reached Beer. When I made it back onto the coast path I descended into Beer and wandered into the Anchor Inn to wait for Nick. It was here I saw the most impressive thing on the entire journey so far…a fully grown man with a massive bowl cut. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it’s a shame I didn’t get a photo with him – I might have doubled my blog views today. Beer was the 4th place I’d passed through that claimed it was the “Gateway to the Jurassic Coast” by putting it on the entrance sign. Surely only one of these places can be the gateway? The others should be the western wall or the east watch tower or something. I found it quite funny that I was drinking a beer in a town called Beer but I guess the locals probably don’t find it such a novelty any more. Nick dropped off my bag soon after and was kind enough to offer his assistance if I’m ever stuck along this stretch of coastline, he also made a donation to my beer fund which was also very nice. I chilled out here for a while but kept looking up and finding people around the pub staring at me. I reckon it’s odd that people these days think you’re the weird one for using a pub for what it was built for (drying off, restocking and having a rest) instead of getting pissed or going out for a meal like we usually do these days. Anyway, finishing my pint I put on my bag and marched on up the hill towards Beer Point to rejoin the cliff top path that lead to Branscombe, where I had been offered a room for the night.

The cliff paths here were an amazing sight but quite precarious, seeing it wind steeply down below me with not much room for error was exciting but nerve racking now I had my heavy bag back on. I felt like I was in the Amazon now, I was really high up making my way down the side of the cliff with other rock formations dotted about and birds everywhere. It was pretty impressive. Once I’d made it down to almost beach level I had the choice of following the beach of sticking to the woodland path into Branscombe, I chose the woodland. I passed through an out of season caravan park on the undercliff then made my way over a small field towards the road into the village. Walking through I felt like I’d just stepped onto the set of Last of the Summer Wine. It was a lovely little place but even only a mile from the sea I felt so remote. On my way up the road to the hotel I was heading for I noticed an old forge which appeared to be in use so I poked my nose round the door to see what was up. Looking around I had stepped into a blacksmiths showroom and there he was at the back, working away at his forge. I love this kind of stuff so I had fun checking out all the little odds and ends that this guy had made. There were beautiful walking sticks and letter openers with ornate rams head designs on them and all sorts of farming equipment, ornaments, tools and even a few weapons around. Speaking to him he said its all in his family and pointed out the bits that his dad or son had made that were also being sold here.

As much as I would have loved to stay in there forever I had to leave so I slowly walked up the hill to the road I was to follow. It felt like it went on forever but I finally made it to the Keystone Lodge in Bulstone where I was offered a nice room with sandwiches and soup for dinner by Kevin & Judith who ran the place. So far what I’ve seen of Devon kind of creeps me out but I hope it will get nicer as I make my way west. I’ve also just found an app on my iPhone that let’s me watch flash video, so I’m able to catch up on the Walking Dead tonight – finally!

We passed the army camp at Chickerell and walked down the farm roads in the direction of Abbotsbury, where I had planned to meet my Dad, my youngest sister Sarah and Polly. As we were walking I decided to ask Bob about…bird watching. As it turns out he was an avid watcher of birds and I was a little embarrassed after slating them the other week. He explained that bird watchers love lists. They have lists for everything. Today we were hoping to contribute to Bobs “non-motorised trip around the countryside” list, where he had seen or heard about 110 different birds so far and he was aiming to get at least a pheasant this morning. He was third in a sort of online race thing between bird watchers to tick off the most birds in a particular list.

We carried on walking across the farms, down the hill and on towards The Fleet. By now we had heard the pheasant so Bob could tick it off fairly early, every so often he’d stop to look through his binoculars – though he did promise to keep his bird watching to a minimum. I shall not lie I still think its a weird hobby but at least I know a little bit more about it and you’ll be glad to know, Bob and Gill are not antisocial evils-giving type bird watchers at all. I also found out the facts about why birds fly around in groups and always seem to go in the same direction. But I won’t tell you that, you have to google it.

We made it down to The Fleet near Langton Herring, where we followed the footpath around the coast for a while before moving inland towards the road to Abbotsbury. We came across a crazy looking field, with the gate pulled off its hinges and laid down to one side. We realised that the gate was meant as a means to cross the stupidly muddy entrance to the field but being made out of iron, it was really slippery and it seemed a bit silly to try and ‘tightrope walk’ along it with a 60lb bag on my back…but I attempted it anyway. It wasn’t long before I slipped straight in and had to splash across the field, over fallen trees and up the hill to drier ground. Bob wasn’t spared either, but was able to make it across a little quicker than I.

We followed a small footpath up a steep hill, past some woods and finally met the farm road to Abbotsbury. We wandered along here for a while, up and down subtle hills until we came to the swannery. A few more minutes and we were passing the monastery and into the village centre. We came to the entrance of the Ilchester Arms when I heard a car horn beeping. I looked over the road as Dad, Polly and Sarah got out of the car and came over. We all walked down to the Swan Inn and Bob joined us for lunch there before catching his bus back to Weymouth.

It had actually started to snow now which I wasn’t expecting so instead of going for a walk up to the chapel on the hill, dad drove us over to Lyme Regis where we had a mooch about and a coffee. That evening we head back to Burton Bradstock where our B&B was booked and had a nice dinner at the Three Horseshoes Inn. Polly and I watched Jumanji on Cassette and actually had to rewind it after we were done. Don’t tell anybody but I only rewound it half way…HAR HAR, we are such jokers.

This morning we were up for breakfast around 9 and had yet another full English. After breakfast we drove over to Bridport where I stocked up on food, thinking I’d be camping tonight for the first time. We then went over to Chideock Beach, parked up and ran off to play on the beach and find fossils. It was nice to hang out with everyone properly but they all had to be getting home soon so we went to the Anchor Inn by the beach for coffee. When it was finally time for us all to part ways dad went and got my bag from the car while I said goodbye to Polly and Sarah. Even though Polly had come to see me last week, it was just actually harder to leave her this time. From now on its going to be harder and more expensive for Polly and my family to visit, so I’ll have to get used to being alone for longer stretches now…

Once they’d left I went back inside and ordered a beer. I got talking with the guys behind the bar about my trip and they were really cool. They see a lot of hikers coming through here, especially long distance ones seeing as its the South West Coast Path but one bar girl called Kate offered to put my next beer and lunch on her tab, just to help me out! I stayed here for about an hour and a half while I figured out where I was going to stay tonight and had the lunch that Kate had got me. Once again Auntie Shirley had managed to sort me a place in Charmouth, about 4 miles west so I arranged my pack and set off soon after she told me.

Thanking Kate and the Anchor Inn guys I made my way to the path up to Golden Cap, the highest point on the whole south coast. This part was quite a struggle, especially after 2 pints and a bowl of squid noodles. I finally reached the top and got some fantastic views but I really had to keep moving as the people in Charmouth were expecting me. My hip was starting to get painful already too, again catching it on loose stones and tufts of grass causing some serious twinges I’ve started to think I should get it looked at soon or it will become a real problem.

Crossing the farmland to Charmouth I made my way past the coast path diversion as the cliff top had collapsed here too, apparently due to the wet weather. It was a shame because this part of the coast is apparently really pretty and I was trading in those views for muddy horrible marshy fields. I picked my way around the mud and slowly climbed the steep slope to the road at Stone Barrow, where I began descending into Charmouth. By now, even after only 4 miles I was knackered and just about ready to crash. Today was supposed to be a rest day, I think it was probably more psychological than anything. If I knew I had to walk 20 miles, I’d walk 20 miles. But today I had assumed I’d be walking zero miles so walking 4 miles seemed like so much effort.

Making my way through Charmouth the last stretch brought me to my bed and breakfast just off the beach at Broadlands B&B. I knocked on the door and was invited in by Angela and Nick, who were very nice and set me up with my own annex area for the night. After chatting for a bit I went to chill out but was invited to have roast dinner with them later on, so I obviously said yes. Dinner was great, we had roast pork followed by cheese and biscuits accompanied by a few bottles of red wine. I felt very well looked after tonight and they were great company!

They’ve sorted me out with breakfast for tomorrow and any supplies I need. They’ve also offered to give me a rucksack for my food & drink and drive my pack to my destination tomorrow to give my hips a rest which is fantastic. Tomorrow I’m aiming for Seaton, but it’s up to my hip how far I get.

I head over to the car park by the cove where a very long and steep limestone path wound up the hill and over the cliffs to the west. After slowly plodding up here I came to the top and was greeted with fantastic views of the rock formations at Durdle Door. It reminded me of something out of Pirates of the Caribbean and only got better as I followed the path down the slope. When I carried on along the path I saw it start to creep upwards and it looked pretty steep. I began to climb it and passed a couple who were also working on getting to the top, bagless but they did have hiking poles. I overtook them but when I got to the top I sat down for some water and they quickly passed me again, giving me the “rather you than me, with that bag” look. I would have been happy to stay there forever and call that my exercise for the year but I had to keep on. Pretty much immediately the hill dipped steeply down and then back up once again, much like a more intense version of the Seven Sisters back at home – but here there were only three sisters and they were all bigger bitches than the ones in Sussex.

I came across a coast path marker stone on the second to last hill engraved with “White Nothe (White Nose) 3 miles”. I’m guething thomebody had a bit of a lithp when they were picking that name. The path was pretty much more of the same all the way to Holworth, where it gave way to woodland and we all know what comes with woodland. More mud. The path was a little up and down through the woods but nothing major and the cliffs here were a lot lower than those nearer to Lulworth. This track led directly through to Osmington Mills where I stopped at the Smugglers Inn for a pint, a packet of crisps and to use their wifi. It was a pretty nice place really but I didn’t stick around all that long and pushed on up the road to find the start of the footpath to Weymouth. This part was opening out into some quite nice woodland but soon became more rubbish horrible sludge, trudging through that I came to the outskirts of a PGL outdoor activity centre. A set of steps led down to the beach and a couple were coming up as I got there, they said that they’d just been down to clean their boots which was exactly my thinking 5 seconds before, so when they disappeared off towards Weymouth I hopped down the steps to the sea and had a splishy splashy time in the water for the first time in a few days.

The steps were nice and easy to go down to the beach but I hadn’t thought about going back up. They were a real struggle and most of the hand rails had rusted at the joints and weren’t even stable enough to hold onto! Once I’d finally made it up I followed the path the couple had taken and it led me slowly over the last remaining hills and down onto the beginnings of Weymouth Esplanade. Up here I caught some really good views of the sun breaking through the clouds and casting beams of light over Portland to the south. I still hadn’t had signal since Lulworth and I was expecting to have at least one or two bars by the time I got down to civilisation but there was nothing. Walking down the hill the coast path took me through a funfair at Bowleaze Cove, which was more like a ghost town. There wasn’t a soul around and there was rubbish floating all around the place, I thought it was the start of the apocalypse – normally the thought of having to survive the end of the world excites me but today I was tired and hungry and not really ready, it could have waited until tomorrow morning. Lucky for me and for you, it wasn’t the end of the world and I started seeing signs of life further up the beach towards Weymouth. I hobbled across the car park, up and over a hill next to the main road and down to a stile which I hopped and ended up in a restaurant beer garden. Making my way out of here, with everyone inside the restaurant watching me through the floor to ceiling glass doors (maybe I wasn’t supposed to be there?) I followed the pavement along the beach and slowly but surely made it to Weymouth.

By now I would have assumed that being in a town I’d have some form of phone signal but I still didn’t! Each and every bench I came across was tempting me to take a seat but I carried on, aiming for somewhere where I was able to call my mum’s cousin, who had offered me a meal and a bed tonight. I had already been given the postcode and every so often I’d take my phone out and it would tease me with full signal, right up to the point I went to search for directions on Google Maps and then it would drop to nothing! This was getting really frustrating but I finally found some signal when I reached Nothe Fort on the edge of Portland Harbour.

I found just about enough energy to get me to where I was staying and I am now chilling out, about to go to the pub after a shower and a lovely stew courtesy of Gill & Bob Ford. Tomorrow I am seeing Polly, my dad and my sister Sarah for the weekend so I’ll be back on the road on monday! I felt a bit more positive about today – there were less tanks and a lot less mud & blood which is always a bonus. Love you. x

The day started off really nice. I woke up in A Great Escape Guest House at 8:30 and Sue prepared me a cooked breakfast. Don’t tell the michelin star chef in Beaulieu but Sue’s was far better! She had to rush off to Bournemouth for something so she wished me luck and left me to pack. I left around ten o’clock and head over to the chocolate shop in town, Chococo. As I said yesterday I was told they’d make a fuss of me when I got there so I wandered in and was greeted with smiles. Kay, who ran the place sorted me out with a hot chocolate and stuffed a bag of handmade chocolates into my pocket. I sat in there a while, talking about my adventure to the staff and a handful of customers who were all very nice.

It was coming up to 11 by now and I thought about making a move but before I left, Kay rushed over to the Purbeck Gazette offices across the road and came back saying that they’d like to talk to me and get some photos before I left Swanage. I spoke to a nice lady called Nico in there who told me about another man walking the coast in the other direction and wondered if I’d seen him. I hadn’t – but his name is Christian and he’s an ex-soldier, who is sticking to the coast, taking no ferries and refusing offers for a warm bed! He’s putting himself through hardship and sleeping rough on purpose to raise awareness and donations for the homeless. I admire his stubbornness but he is doing it for an entirely different reason.

After a few photos I said my goodbyes to the Swanage folk and got walking. I received an email this evening from one of the people in the chocolate shop saying I had quite a fan club by the time I’d left and the general opinion was that I looked like a young Colin Firth…I’m not sure whether this is a good thing. Would you say Colin Firth is good looking? If so then yes I heartily agree. If not then I most certainly do not.

As I hit the seafront the wind was getting pretty horrendous and the sea was rough as hell, but making my way up to the cliffs the rest of the path for the next hour or so was through some woodland so I had a bit of cover. In these woods I passed a really old couple struggling up the hill, who insisted they didn’t need any help but were very impressed with what I was doing. I got the whole “I wish I’d done something like that” thing but at least they were friendy. I came across Durlston ‘Castle’, that looked more like a manor house which was sat right on the point of Durlston Head. I didn’t stick around long, there were lots of tourists checking it out and I wanted to make up some time. I fought my way through an army of Spanish students impolitely coming the other way up the path and head towards the Tilly Whim Caves (teehee). The path from here on out was quite uneven but it was a good view. I passed some soldiers hiking towards Swanage, who said good morning. By the look of their patches they were from the Tank Regiment camp at Lulworth.

From here on out I lost my phone reception for a good 3 hours. I followed the cliff top path down past the lighthouse and over Dancing Ledge, where more caves were. As usual, the council have put up signs saying you’re not allowed to do anything fun like explore them or you’ll definitely break your neck and die so I carried on towards the stream running down from Worth Matravers, a small village just inland. On the path up to the village I met Alastair and Marianne Gammell with their two daughters Scarlet and Ella. They were really friendly and offered me lunch but as we were heading in opposite directions I passed. They desperately wanted to give me something to take with me but I said I was fine, so Ella handed me a beer mat from the pub in the village as a token to remember them which was nice. After asking for directions I left them and struggled up the steep hill to the Square & Compass pub.

The wind was still strong so I ducked inside and went over to order a pint and a home made pasty. The place was rammed and the ceiling was so low I barely fit in there, especially with my pack on. The walls were very close too so people could barely squeeze past one another but it was a nice little place. I had no signal so I asked for a wifi code, which they didn’t have they offered me a pay phone but I tried it about 4 times while I was there and it was in use elsewhere or something so I didn’t get to make any calls. I had to eat my pasty out in the wind too because the place was so packed.

After lunch I made my way to the village square – which was more like a circle – and was about to use the telephone box there when I saw the Gammell family’s dog sprint off up the road, followed shortly after by Marianne and Ella. They offered to take me to their cottage round the corner and make me a coffee while I used their phone which was really lovely of them. We all sat down for a little while to chill out and I tried one of their home made cookies. I rang mum just to let her know I hadn’t fallen off the cliff, then Alastair helped me plan my afternoons route.

They sent me off soon after with a donation for the pot and I began walking again towards Kingston. On the road approaching Kingston I noticed a bridle way that zigzagged down towards Corfe Castle. The map looked like it would be a pretty good bet to stay well clear of the cliff collapses and at the same time begin my diversion of the tank ranges to the west.

By now ‘Aunty Shirley’ had worked her magic once more and when I finally got some signal I found out that shs had located me a b&b in Lulworth on the other side of the tank ranges. Unfortunately it looked to be too far for me today so I carried on towards Corfe Castle and rang the owner, Margaret to say that I won’t make it. She wished me luck and said the offer was still there but I kept on going for a while, heading north. The footpath was getting really muddy again down this way and opened out into horrible marshlands covered in oily water which I splashed through to get to drier ground.

By now my hip was giving me some serious shit yet again and I was struggling along through the marshy fields, past Corfe Castle and headed west. I received a phone call from Shirley saying that Margaret was worried about me sleeping out tonight as it was going to be -2, so she said if I can make it to the firing ranges east gate at Kimmeridge she will pick me up. As much as I would have LOVED to sleep out in this weather tonight, with my oily boots and wet clothes I took her up on the offer and set sail for Kimmeridge to the south west. Carrying on across open farmland the sun was setting and I was looking directly at it most of the way, pretty blinding. I came across the only way through a hedgerow which was a really small stile, overgrown with brambles. After taking about 5 minutes to fight my way over it I crossed one more field and into a farm yard. I wandered around for a while looking for the footpath out the other side, finally finding it tucked away behind a tractor. I opened the gate and head on through, round the farm. As I came round the corner my heart sank, this was the only visible way through and the whole footpath was knee deep piss water. I thought I’d be shot of that for a while after the Solent but jebus had failed me once again.

I decided to face the music, trying to keep to the bank. I was almost through and thought my day couldn’t really get any worse when my bag got caught on the tree above – at the same time as my right foot got tangled in brambles. I stumbled and slipped down the bank into the water, cutting my ankle on some old buried barbed wire sticking out of the mud! So now I was up to my knees in crappy water and my sock was all bloody and minging. I just waded through after that, up the bank to a really muddy farm yard and out onto the road, the last part of my walk before I hit Kimmeridge. The road was a lot longer than I thought and very steep. My hip was screaming at me to stop and my boots were filled with bits of bramble, I was almost crying in pain by now.

I pushed on for the last mile and arranged for Margaret to pick me up from the car park at the entrance to the village. I was sitting there on the bank, trying to keep warm wondering what the hell I’m doing with my life when she arrived just after dark and almost drove straight past me! I had put my head torch on so she could see me but the batteries were dying so it ended up being too dim anyway. We drove to Lulworth through the now open tank range and I was settled into their b&b, the St Patricks. She had agreed to help as she is a huge fan of what the air ambulance do, particularly around the cliffs here where it’s inaccessible to land vehicles.

I am now sitting here, having eaten a cup of noodles with bread and had a shower. I’ve cleaned up my leg and its not all that bad, but I’ve got to repair my ripped trousers sorry for moaning so much, I only hope tomorrow across to Weymouth will be a more enjoyable journey. Peace and love, yours sincerely, kind regards, Tommy.