Day Eleven (Braunton to Appledore)

After a hearty breakfast and a chat with my hosts, who'd also forgot the British Time change, I set off in boots partly dried during the night, by an aga.  I stepped out into a world sharply different from wild wet one of yesterday, to one with a huge crisp blue sky.  

As I walked through Braunton back to the path, the strength and energy of the water levels were evident.  Stream banks were bulging or had given up trying to contain the surge of water and bridges were holding on against the pressure.

It is always with a sense of relief when I find the path again, knowing my erratic ability to navigate even a well signposted path. 

Along the first part of our journey I met an elderly man, out on a mobility scooter walking his dog, as he tried performing a three point turn, in the narrow constraints of the pathway.  The sparky dog looked on patiently, until the flap of the cover of the scooter was lifted and he hurled himself up onto the lap of his owner and off they zoomed back down the path and home. I walked on past an army base, which warned me that I would be arrested and prosecuted if I entered this prohibited place within the means of the official secrets act.  I wondered the thinking behind such signs.  Was this sign there to deflect people with evil intent? If it was, then was it effective or did the twelve foot fences with barbed wire along the top, suggest this wasn't a place to stop for a friendly chat.  I decided it was best not to take any photos, just in case they didn't like the look of an odd looking woman, mourning the loss of a soggy rain hat, squelching along the perimeter.  

Feeling the flat vastness of the estuary and seeing the effects of heavy rain, I reflected on the homes and communities which could be effected by rising water levels. Being present and smelling the air made global warming real and monumental. This beautiful scene might one day be submerged and lost... Which then led me to remember Gloucester, which once laid covered in water. This earth changing and evolving over millions of year, my time on it, insignificant and imperceptible.

Arriving at Barnstaple I decided to address the issue of sodden socks, which had absorbed the dampness of my boots.  Not a graceful sight but one which seemed to attract interest from nearby eyes.   Previously I have escaped blisters from my lovely boots but today was to be different.

Barnstaple looked crisp in the morning light,as I tried to find the path I'd somehow lost crossing the bridge!

The path was very busy with weekend walkers and cyclists all making the most of the sun warming our souls.  Dogs hurtled from one sniff to the next, children squealed with delight and lovers walked hand in hand.   It occurred to me as I witnessed the life around me that yesterday's deluge hadn't stopped runners pounding the path, it hadn't stopped surfers lurching on white crests of waves, it hadn't stopped dog walkers sniffing the sights and sounds but it had stopped cyclists turning their wheels.  It seems the rain stops cyclists from being stoically British?

Taking advantage of a café, along the path, advertising an array of lunchtime delights, I carefully positioned my laden backpack and myself into the confines of the shop queue.  (When out walking you don't notice the space you, a backpack, a walking pole and a hanging long raincoat take, but standing there in a t-shirt wearing crowd, I felt conspicuous.)  When my turn came to order, my mouth was watering at the thought of a tasty lunch.  But sadly this was not to be.  The lunchtime menu wasn't served until midday and it was 11.45am. Oh blow!  Not knowing where the next food stop was, I wanted to make sure I was well stocked for the next few miles.

While I waited for the delights of a hot chocolate I spotted a freshly replenished box of RSPB badges, resting on the counter.  Now I'm not a bird fan or a badge fanatic, but I know someone who is and she's desperate to complete her collection of bird badges.  I casually asked the assistant if they had an owl, to which the box was pushed in my direction, followed by a huge plastic bag of more badges, with the words "Help yourself," before the assistant moved on to make my master piece of a hot chocolate. 

Thinking of the squeals of delight, if I found 'an owl', I started to rummage through the box.  Tentatively at first, but the desire to find 'the badge' results in me one by one emptying the entire contents of the box, until I found ... wait for it … two owls!  Ow no!  Did she want a snowy owl or a barn owl? I'm sure she just said "an owl".   While I pondered this momentous decision, the irritated customer behind me, who was obviously tiring of standing behind my damp backpack and all its add ons, sighed. In an effort to appease her frustration, I explained that a friend was collecting the bird badges and although we all thought she needed to 'get a life' I wanted to please her.  To which I was told "You're an enabler then, as what you are doing is encouraging the behaviour."  Oh my!  That wasn't the response I imagined.  It was time to leave.  I went for both owl badges, took my architecturally superb hot chocolate and my drug dealing behaviour and went outside.

The hot chocolate proved an absolute delight and softened the blow that I was 'an enabler'.

The path continued around the estuary, losing its flat rawness and replacing it with small post war dwellings, dotted along the edge of the path, which reminded me of the prefabs which populated the docklands in London after World War 2. The prefabs have all been replaced with apartment blocks and swanky bars, which reveal nothing of what went before.

Somewhere near Instow I stopped to enjoy food which could be served at lunchtime and chose to sit well away from anyone, in order to air my increasing number of blisters.

By now my thighs were beginning to make their weariness known and I considered making Bideford my end point.  I'd set out yesterday with the goal of covering as much of the estuary part of the path this weekend. I'd thought it would dull and uninteresting and wanted to 'get it done' ready for continuing the path next year.  But I was wrong, it's open vastness was exhilarating, I felt alive. 

After an ice-cream in Bideford I continued until I reached Appledore, where the fading light influenced my decision to stop.  I'd covered 18 miles, the furthest I'd ever walked.  I was tired but warm with a sense of completeness within.

I ended the day in a welcoming pub, and began dreaming of 'tomorrow'.

I've covered 80 miles of the SWCP this year.  Next year I plan to continue.  I love the freedom when walking, the freedom to 'just be' to feel alive.