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Journal: |
I woke twice during the night with my tent collapsed on me.
I still haven't mastered using my trekking pole as a tent pole yet,
especially when it's windy, but think I know how to fix it next
time. I woke to hear it raining, as forecast, at about 3am,
and it was still raining continuously, though not heavily, when I
got up at 6:30am. It took me about 30 minutes to sort out
everything and pack as much as I could inside the tent, which had
remained quite dry. Then came fervent activity to get out of
the tent, keep everything dry and take down and pack up the tent.
That went OK, although I began to feel quite cold and decided I
needed to put on my Goretex long pants (for the first time on the
trip) and my second sweater. That made me feel a bit better
and I set out across the rain- and wind-swept moorland. I
would have preferred it to be clear with views, but it's also good
to see these places as they are for much of the year. It was
boggy underfoot and the route was often difficult to follow through
the grass tussocks with livestock tracks (and crap) everywhere.
It was occasionally misty and I half-expected to see the witches
from Macbeth emerge from the gloom.
I felt like I must be the only person this stupid but, after an
hour, spotted two more hikers with brightly coloured pack
raincovers, descending the steep trail in front of me. After
another half hour I caught them and they turned out to be an
Australian couple (in their 50s, I would guess) also walking from
Lands End to John O'Groats and using the same guide-book as me,
although they planned to take longer than the two months I had
planned. I had heard about them from a few hikers going the
other way along the Coast Path, but thought it unlikely I would
actually meet them. We briefly compared notes in the abysmal
conditions, barely able to see each other through all the gear we
were wearing, before I continued on.
The going was quite hard with soft peat and bogs to negotiate
frequently, but I felt warm in all my gear, and not particularly
concerned about my safety, apart from slipping into a bog. My
new shoes certainly did not look new now, and my feet were going to
be wet all day. The designated route was to take me over the
summit of Dunkery Beacon, which I could make out through the misty
gloom, but a bad-weather route was also available which skirted the
slopes of the mountain and I chose that. No point climbing to
the top to stare at the fog, and it would be even more cold and
windy up there.
Now came a boggy descent across saturated fields to a stream and
then a pleasant, though muddy, bridle trail to the village of
Wheddon Cross which sat high on a ridge. I reached there soon
after 1pm, bedraggled and very mud-spattered, and cleaned myself up
outside and removed my rain pants before going into a pub for lunch.
I could smell myself, so I'm sure the staff could too, but I guess
they are used to hikers up here. It was quite expensive and I
went for one of the cheaper options - cod, peas and chips.
I tried not to dally too much because I fancied the idea of
getting to my goal, Roadwater, in time to eat when the pub there
opened (probably 6pm) before hiking on another couple of kilometres
to a Youth Hostel Barn, whatever that is. I began walking
again, having dispensed with the rain pants but keeping the second
sweater on. The walking was a bit easier, following some less
muddy bridle trails and crossing many fields with grass shortened by
grazing sheep. In one field, all the sheep began to follow
along and when I reached the gate to exit, I met the farmer coming
the other way on his quad bike. I made some reference to the
sheep mistaking me for a New Zealander, but I think the joke went
over his head.
The route went over the summit of another large hill, Lype Hill,
which had a few old mounds dating back to the ancient Britons,
before descending, partially along a steep bridle path. I
later read in the guide-book, that it was slippery when wet, but
that was too late. I fell over twice on the way down, one of
them once again twisting my bad knee at a grotesque angle, but once
again, no apparent damage done. I was limping a bit with what
felt like a bruised right heel, and that was making me a little more
awkward. At lunch I had changed out the purchased insoles from
my new shoes and replaced them with those that came with the shoes,
but this only seemed to stop the problem getting worse.
At the bottom of the hill came another attractive walk along a
not-too-boggy bridle trail which followed a stream through woods and
farmland and passed a few old cottages. At the village of
Kingsbridge I missed a turn and ended up walking along a country
lane for the last 6km to Roadwater, instead of the suggested route
through some woods and fields. However, it was very pleasant,
with only a couple of vehicles in an hour and a half, passing though
some conifer forests, following a stream and passing some historic
old residences.
I reached Roadwater and the pub there just before 6pm and decided
to ask whether they did B&B and at what price. They had had a
cancellation that morning and offered me a large room at a good
price and I decided to take it, feeling in desperate need of a
shower and not knowing what I would find at the hostel.
Earliest breakfast is 8am, so looks like another sleep in
tomorrow. I think the weather forecast is for the rain to
clear. Fingers crossed.
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