Day Three (Porlock to Lynmouth)

Wow what a night. It didn’t just rain it lashed down with all its night. My tent proved to be a good choice, even if a little heavier than the recommended weight for hiking. But we slept well. Pegasus appears to sleep with his eyes open, which is a little disconcerting. I kept checking his chest was moving, to reassure myself I hadn’t pushed him to far. He hadn’t bargained for a hiking holiday when he agreed to spend his retirement with me.

We packed up with reasonable ease, except for two sheep who kept sauntering past the gate near our tent. I swear they were doing it on purpose to rile Pegasus, who responded with passion every time.

After finding lunch we set off. In true dippy form I forgot to read the map and wandered along a route which seemed right. We ended up crossing a marsh, then navigating a beach covered in pebbles, rocks and boulders. We spent ten minutes trying to find a suitable place to cross a stream, as it wandered off the hills and out to seek its fortune. Must remember I have a map and it needs to be referred to ... regularly.

We breakfasted courteous of The Porlock Weir Hotel. (The receptionist didn’t seem perturbed by my attire! I was taking no chances today and started off in my waterproofs which were now covered in mud.). I enjoyed a rather expensive salmon and scrambled egg on toast, while Pegasus devoured a fancy sausage and enjoyed the attention of the waitresses. Typical bloke! What is it about testosterone?

As we sat enjoying the tranquillity of the sights before us, quite out of nowhere three purposeful hikers yomped past, in perfect unison. It was as though a Tinkle Bell Cox fluttered behind the last hiker, shouting “Left, right, left, right.” They were poetry in fancy hiking gear, operating in fluid motion - an impressive and formidable sight.

Fed and duly satisfied Pegasus and I set off, only to discover 100 yards later, when I’d missed yet another Coastal Path sign, I’d forgotten my walking pole, yet again. Not sure I'm safe to let out!

Once up the hill the path ran alongside a field laced with sheep, two of which stood guard in front of the gate, much to Pegasus’ delight. A stand off ensued. Two well-bred woolly sentries, verses an hysterical muttley, frayed round his hind quarters. Thankfully the sheep sought advice from an inbuilt story somewhere deep inside and stood aside.

Pegasus, bolstered by his achievement, led the way with an attitude in his swagger. What followed was a slope of never ending proportions, littered with bends and benches.

Glimpses of the sea lured us on, until we caught up with the three professional hikers, scattered along the path, bent over their poles. They intended walking the shorter 'rugged' route, and were surprised at my intention to take the elevated route. (I’d got the true hang of the narrow swirly brown lines, yesterday; 'rugged' meant up, down, up, down, followed by even more up, down.) Under no illusions that my knees had a preference for scenic, we’d take the extra length any day.

The walk which followed took us through fields and along dirt tracks; down single track roads and through woodlands. We saw iconic British homesteads nestled unseen, in the breezy sun blessed landscape. Britain at peace in its simplicity.

Along the way we detoured slightly to visit the tiniest of chapels, sunken and wholesome hidden within the woodland. Just in front of the alter a large black iron ring, holding faded candles hung from the ceiling, held high by a pulley rope. While above the pews hung, what I believe was an oil lantern, held by a thin rope, secured to the wall. This stone walled chapel could welcome maybe 36 worshippers, revealed a by gone era, an imagination might capture. Devon’s very own Mamma Mia chapel; once maybe a pony and cart graced its gates, but now only a hardy walker ventured in. One is left to ponder on its worshipers and their existence in this challenging terrain. Because live they did; their tomb stones standing proud and dormant in the morning breeze.

So much has changed since this chapel was alive; if I were ever to marry again, the tranquility of this unspoilt sanctuary, would hold an attraction. Who says hiking boots, don't go with a wedding dress!

We continued along the path discovering waterfalls and streams, which crossed the path or chased it down a combe. The unkempt disarray of rocks, aged to perfection, sat solid and resolute to the force of the water, which lurched and flowed and churned. Just like the chapel they too remain untouched by the craziness of today's frantic world.

As we edged near the end of the woodland we encountered The Forestry Commission at work, huge muddy tyre tracks and trees hacked to make way for the entry of their vehicles. Pegasus, still full of swagger, decided to paddle in a tyre track puddle, only to collapse unceremoniously into its depth, which resulted in his face being covered in red muddle sludge. He stood there startled and, I swear, waiting for an explanation, or may be help! Who knows! He got neither and had to stagger and squelch out, all on his own.

We picnicked in a sparkly spot, beside the path on yoghurt, water and frankfurters! Teams of flies bugged Pegasus. He snapped and flickered, to no avail. They were keen to investigate his ears.

The end of the woodland was marked by a delightful scene, a pale blue patio set, furnished with a flask and cool box, for walkers to savour a cuppa. I know these 'pit stops' are called something, but for the life of me, I cannot remember. Research is useful, if you can remember it!

The next part of the walk was an absolute delight. The path held on to the edge of Devon, before it fell into the jade sea, waiting below.

All was going well, the sun was out, the narrow path was 'level' until Calamity Jane misjudged a step and fell bedraggled to the floor, wrist trapped by my walking pole strap and my head on the edge!! It was now Pegasus' turn to ponder at stupidity in action. He, however, was somewhat more gracious and tried to help.

A little more sure footed we continued onto Hartland Point, missing … wait for it … yet another Coastal Path sign. As a result we saw a National Trust Bothy, I'd considered renting last year, before pluming for the luxury I indulged in, courtesy of a financial birthday gift from my brother. We ventured all the way to the gusty lighthouse; was I grateful for the elastic I'd sewn into my hat! What a windy spot to inhabit.

As I reached the summit of yet another hill, I saw the professional hikers below and called out, in an effort to ensure they noticed the signed path to their left, which I'd missed. Obviously, the shorter path had been more challenging, as they were at least an hour behind me. My playground voice did the trick and I got an excited wave back.

The walk down into Lynton was slippery and steep. My toes hurt, but each bend gave way to another beautiful scene, blessed with an awesome array of colour.

When we finally arrived I encouraged Pegasus to splash in the crispy waves, in an effort to cleanse the mud from his coat. But just like Shadow, he'd only venture in up to his belly button! What is it about German Shepherds, are they born with a 'swim phobia'? Maybe, it's because 80% of Germany is landlocked; breeders didn't think a love of water was an important feature when creating the 'perfect' sheep dog. (The' 80% is an estimation, just in case you were impresses by my geographical knowledge.) Socks off … I encouraged Pegasus deeper. By now his attention was focused on the young Dalmatians bounding over to us. He left me shin deep in water, balancing on huge pebbles, to give these two young up starts a piece of his mind. So much for a quiet entrance into Lynton.

Next we needed to find the campsite; according to the map I needed to walk up a single lane road, with no pavement. I decided fish and chips would help me think, especially a fish and chip shop which sold wine, and had a garden to sit in … result! The young lad who served me asked politely which white wine I'd like, and then proceeded to list all the choices. "I don't care! As long as it's cold!" was my unladylike reply. Bless him, he fumbled to meet my needs and duly poured the wine. He even returned the extra tenner I'd given him in error. I enjoyed a feast fit for a walker and Pegasus enjoyed another sausage!

By a stroke of luck I got speaking to a couple who were able to direct me to the campsite, via the cliff tram, so I was saved risking our lives walking the single track road.

The tram attendant let Pegasus on free and we enjoyed a smooth journey with two Border Collies, their owners and the owners of a miniature Schnauzer. We shared photos!

Directions from here varied, as much as the givers of the directions, but eventually we entered the small campsite. We found the only human being visible and was met with an discourteous response. He, I am assuming the owner, was not happy with my late arrival, my request to stay 2 nights and the fact that my backpack had arrived ahead of me. He recited, with authority, the terms and conditions of the establishment and proudly showed me the 'white spot' I was to position my tent ... 'exactly'. He left, informing me he would see me in the morning. A delight I looked forward to. My 'spot' was 5m from a stream, quite idyllic, but not one I intended on staying 'on' any longer than I had to. Rules were displayed everywhere, some with an explanation as to why these rules had been established. It was unsettling and incongruent to the beauty of the location.

I was standing on the 'white spot' as I took this photo! I could see no notice saying this was not allowed.

One of Pegasus' paws was bloody, he needed to rest it. My phone battery was dead; Dad's solar power charger hadn't warmed in today's sun, so working out my next plan of action was a little tricky. I certainly wasn't going to draw on 'the cretins' knowledge.

After trying to shower, with a dog who kept barking outside, I gave up and quickly retired to our tent, concerned Mein Fuhrer might emerge from his cave. As I zipped the tent up, it began to rain. How lucky was that! As the darkness descended the heavens unleashed and I planned for tomorrow, at peace.