In our walking we missed August and perhaps August missed us. But restarting in September meant that the angry heat had gone and normal British weather was restored. We had two days in which we saw and left Devon’s “Riviera” and arrived in deep Devon. It is quite a contrast. We also had to accommodate the fact that we were getting further and further from Montacute. The plan was to drop a car at Torquay station and spend a night en route. Wendy’s forensic search skills secured us a Paignton hotel with a family room with three beds – ideal for three snoring walkers.
Day one started with a flat walk along Torquay and then Paignton seafronts. This area may not be the world capital of beach huts but it is a strong contender. To be sure Christchurch takes the record price at £295,000 but Torbay huts can stand proud.
As the summer slipped away there were lots of older people taking in the last of the sunshine before winter sets in.
The young were back in school so the age profile was ours. But so is the profile of the area: it feels as though it got left behind with John Cleese. In Paignton there are reminders of a glorious Victorian era with confident terraces which are being revived. But there are also large hotels that are boarded up. Perhaps perversely Brexit and a crashing pound will breathe new life into Paigton.
Walking along Paignton we met up with friends of Martin’s, Shirley and John Carr, who share his enthusiasm for Paignton Zoo.
As we sat with them a slow repetitive chuffing noise announced a steam train leaving Paignton. What a nostalgic noise for baby boomers! We enjoyed the sight before moving on.
We had lunch towards the end of Hutland where Richard and Dugald contemplated buying one, but sensibly desisted.
Leaving the “Riviera” we were soon in wilder and steeper territory heading for Brixham. On the way we passed Elberry Cove where Wendy and Dugald anchored Cimbri (Folkboat 243) in 1973 because they could not afford the £1 required by the Brixham harbour master.
At the end of the beach are the remains of a “bathing house” one of only two in the UK. It was built by Lord Churston probably in about 1840. It had a plunge pool, heated seawater and a games room. Later the cove was a favourite bathing spot for Agatha Christie.
The view of Brixham harbour tells you that you have left the effete world of resorts. It is striking how much this town still feels like a working place.
At the time it was at the centre of attention as a result of the scallop skirmishes with the French fishermen. But even without that the boats were moving in and out with business like purpose.
We paused for a very good ice cream and a view of William of Orange’s stern face. The weather has not been kind to it. We tend to think of his arrival with Mary in 1688 as a rather polite handover but they arrived with 463 ships so the politeness was backed up with significant force.
Leaving Brixham we climbed up to the grassland leading to Berry Head. At the end of the Napoleonic fort is the lighthouse. It has the reputation of being the highest and shortest lighthouse in the country. The lighthouse is a stump, but it sits on a high elevation.
The view from there is commanding and gives a view of all the features of Lyme Bay. It gave us a sense of progress.
In the South fort Richard and Dugald examined the small magazine building with walls 4′ thick and a relatively weak roof which would have directed any unintended explosion upwards!
Having left riviera-land we had to go back to it for a sleep. So we turned back to the centre of Brixham from which a bus took us to Paignton bus station where we enjoyed an exotic 20 minute wait; thence by another bus to the Preston Sands Hotel. The family room was clean with three comfortable beds, all that was needed.
We ate at the Boat restaurant a few hundred yards away where the live music performers murdered a number of well-loved classics – very loudly. The fish in the fishburgers was excellent but could have managed without the bun. When we got back the hotel bar was closed which was probably a blessing. Sleep arrived quickly for three tired walkers, but there were a number of snoring allegations the next morning – none of them proven beyond reasonable doubt.
Early in the morning we saw an unmarked naval vessel anchor outside Brixham harbour, presumably to accompany the Brixham boats to the Baie de Seine.
With a good hotel breakfast inside us we were whisked off to the Path by taxi. As we arrived on the path there was a raven to greet us with its gruff call, apparently chasing a kestrel out of its territory. It was not clear why it needed to do so – perhaps just force of habit.
Today there would be barely a house to be seen as we headed west.
This section is billed as strenuous and it is. But it measures out the effort carefully with many of the climbs along zig-zag paths rather than straight up the hills. This allowed us to talk as well as climb.
Before the main climbs we visited the end of St Mary’s Bay where there is a winsome wooden St Mary. Martin embraced her enthusiastically which made us wonder if he’d read the news recently – perhaps not.
Shortly after Martin spotted a sleek swimmer. His identification moved from seal to otter: it moved with power and grace across the bay. As we left the bay we passed through an area that was completely covered in Old Man’s Beard which felt unusual. Martin thought Sally would be thrilled by the potential for Christmas foliage.
We spotted fulmars, cormorants and great black-backed gulls. There were also chiff-chaffs about to leave on their migration. We thought they were chanting “Enjoy Brexit” but perhaps we’re getting paranoid.
The pattern of climbs and descents became established. We passed coastguard cottages crafted into the hillside for shelter and then up again.
It was here that there was a long debate about “A very British Scandal” and whether a similar astonishing verdict would be reached in 2018. This had been prompted by discussion about how long and difficult the last section of the Path over Exmoor is – and from that the location of the shooting of Rinka.
With that topic exhausted we fell on the dangerous notion that we could fit suitable walking lyrics to well-known songs. This produced hilarious results, many of them not fit for repetition. But we made progress with some of them. For example to the tune of Abba’s “I had a dream…”
We were in Brixham yesterday
Some stage there we lost our way
Thought we were in Dartmouth
But that was a dream
Turned out ‘twas St Mary’s
On the starboard beam
You get the idea! The other very flexible vehicle for lyrics was Do Wah Diddy Diddy because the meaningless interludes allow you time to create the next line. Whatever the artistic merits of the effort it kept us amused.
The coast between St Mary’s and Kingswear has a number of deep and narrow clefts in it so that the path has to make substantial detours. We stopped for lunch on the edge of one just after we had seen three kestrels all hovering in line facing the westerly wind. It looked almost like a display although it clearly wasn’t.
After lunch we continued with zig-zags in the brown soil interspersed with steps.
We could see we were getting close to the estuary and then entered very attractive pine woods.
When we emerged we were delighted to see the two castles at the entrance to the Dart.
We were there. Well not quite – the topography threw in one last steep descent and climb to keep us humble.
Eventually we really were descending into the town. We found our bus stop and then retired to the Steam Packet Inn for a welcome beer. There a very lively celebration was going on. Eventually the rotund sailor who was one of the central characters announced that it was a celebration of fifteen years of happy marriage and that they had been married for forty-three!
As we got on the bus Richard provided drama. His bus pass was refused by the ticket machine and the driver announced that his pass had been hot-listed. The look on Richard’s face as the driver confiscated the pass and demanded £5 was one to remember. We trundled back across South Devon to Torquay station. An enjoyable two days with an interesting variety of scenery and successful negotiation of a “strenuous” section. We have now done over 150 miles, but we are some way from the ten mile per day touchstone at 8.6 miles per day.
Pensioners on The Path 