Thursday 2 May 2019

Prawle Point to Start Bay : The End. The 36th and Final Day of the South West Odyssey (English Branch)

The South West Odyssey was a long distance walk.
Five like-minded people started in 2008 from the Cardingmill Valley in Shropshire and by walking three days a year finished at Start Bay on the South Devon Coast in May 2019
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A Rocky Point, a Sweeping Bay and a Lost Village bring the Odyssey to its End

From Prawle Pont to Start Point: The Devon Coastal Path at Sea Level


Devon
Having walked much closer to our accommodation over the last two days there was minimal car shuffling this morning. We picked up Mike from the caravan park where Francis left his car and then Brian drove us all back to the National Trust car park at Prawle Point, the journey a final reminder of the narrowest of Devon’s many narrow lanes.
National trust Car Park, Prawle Point

We had crossed Prawle Point yesterday….

Looking back to Prawle Point (photo: Brian)

….and to the east the path followed a wide grassy shelf just above the level of the beach.

The Coastline east of Prawle Point

Walking was easy up to and beyond Malcombe Point.

Maelcombe (sic) House and oubuildings above Malcombe Point

We had to climb around Woodcombe point and take a short journey inland to cross the stream beyond….

Approaching Woodcombe Point

…but then it was easy going again until we paused for coffee on Lannacombe Beach.

Coffee stop, Lannacombe Beach

We continued through an area called ‘The Narrows’, the path still flat and only a little above sea level, but with higher ground close by to our left. As Alison’s graph of the walk shows, there was no significant climbing until well past the 6km mark….

The Day 36 walk and height profile as mapped by Alison's ap

…at the apparently nameless headland before Start Point.

The apparently nameless headland before Start Point

Start Point and a View of Start Bay

Once over that we could see Start Point itself. A significant promontory with a jagged rocky spine, the point derives its name from the Anglo-Saxon steort meaning ‘tail’. The lighthouse was built in 1836 by Trinity House who installed their first dioptric optic here. This was replaced in 1871 by a more sophisticated version designed by James Douglass (that name rang a bell: he was also responsible for the Dondra Head lighthouse on the southern tip of Sri Lanka, see (Through Hambantota to the Beaches of Mirissa). The lighthouse is now automated and has a two-tier LED lantern.

Start Point and lighthouse

A steady rise on a well graded path took us up to the base of the headland, today’s high point just short of 130m. Despite the height we had to turn north and walk a couple of hundred metres gently downhill to reach the best viewpoint.

Start Bay and the rest of our walk from the viewpoint

From Ringmore we had been following the coastline in a generally south easterly direction. At Prawle point, we had gone as far south as Devon goes and had walked slightly north of east to Start Point. Here the coastal path turns north along the great sweep of Start Bay and then north to north east all the way to Dorset; not for the first time, but definitely for the last, the Southwest Odyssey would belie its name.

Start Bay

We would descend to Hallsands, cross the low headland to Beesands where we dined last night, then cross the headland beyond. Hidden behind it is Torpoint, our end for the day, indeed forever. The freshwater lake of Slapton Ley, divided from the sea by the bar of Slapton Sands is just beyond Torpoint.

The Lost Village of Hallsands


Hallsands (Photo: Brian)

Getting down to Hallsands took around 20mins.

The photo shows a few buildings on a cliff, several of them new many of them holiday cottages, and a couple of dilapidated dwellings on a rocky ledge at the cliff foot. A plaque at the entrance to the village commemorates the events of 1917.

Hallsands Centenary Plaque

The fishing village of Hallsands was established around 1600 on a stable rock shelf protected by a substantial shingle beach. In 1891 it had 159 inhabitants and a public house.

In the 1890s the government wanted to expand the steamship facilities at Devonport Naval Base. To provide the necessary sand and gravel, dredging began offshore from Hallsands extracting up to 1,600 tons a day. When the level of the beach began to drop protests from the villagers persuaded the Board of Trade to establish an inquiry. Their survey concluded that the dredging posed no threat to the village, so it was allowed to continue. The beach level continued to fall and in the 1900 autumn storms part of the sea wall was washed away. In November the villagers petitioned their Member of Parliament, complaining of damage to their houses, and in September 1901 a new Board of Trade inspection recommended that dredging stop. It did so in January 1902.

The beach made a partial recovery. 15 years later, in January 1917, a combination of easterly gales and high tides breached the sea wall and by the end of that year only one house remained habitable; Hallsands had become a lost village. The villagers fight for compensation took seven years.

The site of the old village is closed to the public but South Hams Council has built a viewing platform…

The lost village of Hallsands from the viewing platform (photo: Brian)

…it is difficult to believe this is all that remains of a street which once had dwellings on both sides. City of Plymouth Archives have a photograph, now happily in the public domain, showing the village in 1855.

Hallsands Village, 1855 (photo: Plymouth City Archives)

We walked through the modern village…

Leaving the modern village of Hallsands

…across North Hallsands beach and started to climb the headland beyond.

To Beesands and Widdicombe Ley

As we walked the rising field paths someone noticed that we could look back and see Lamacraft Farm and, to the left, the cottage where we had spent the last three nights.

Lamacraft Farm, right, and our cottage far left

The path did not go over the top of the headland, finding instead a lower route across its face, the upper slope covered in bluebells.

The bluebell covered headland between Hallsands and Beesands

We had considered stopping for a pint of refreshment in Beesands, but decided we were that close to the end we might as well keep going. Despite the decision we paused for so long at a bench outside the pub that Alison’s ap thought we had stopped and marked the spot with a black circle.

Beesands consists of a line of buildings on one side of the road, a sea wall on the other, and just to the north a sandy beach. Behind the beach is the reed fringed Widdicombe Ley, and we watched a pair of swans fly in and then take off again, not an easy task for birds that size.

At the end of the beach a path led up the side of the wooded headland. Rising gently, it cut into the woodland and I thought it would be an easy stroll down to Torpoint, and said so to Brian. Then, having lulled me into a false sense of security it rose sharply through a series of natural stone steps, each one just too high for comfort. When Brian paused to photograph the ley, he gently suggested I might have misjudged it, and indeed I had, this was the traditional sting in the tail.

Widdicombe Ley and Beesands village behind

Torpoint

It was a tough conclusion to what had been a fairly gentle day of only 14km. When we walked from Stafford to Barmouth it seemed natural to finish by marching into the sea, this time we had been walking along the coast and it did not seem so necessary. Alison C, though, was adamant that a paddle was the appropriate end to the Odyssey - and who is to say she was wrong.

Alison has finished the Odyssey, Torpoint

The End of the Odyssey

Non-walkers Lynne and Alison T arrived and were pressed into service taking the obligatory team photo, so here we are on beach at Torpoint.

The team at the end, Torpoint
l to r Alison C, Mike, Me, Brian, Francis

And this is how we looked in 2008 at the start in the Cardingmill Valley.

The start, Cardingmill Valley, Shropshire, 28/05/2008
l to r Me, Francis, Alison, Mike, Brian

Despite a little more grey hair I think on the whole, we all look a little younger after our Odyssey. And that is my fantasy, be kind and stay silent.

And after the photo, a cream tea - what else should one do in Devon? The tea provoked much discussion, should the clotted cream go on top of the jam or below? Clearly, in my view, it is substituting for butter so should go where the butter normally goes, meaning Brian has his upside-down, but I doubt he would accept that. The café only offered strawberry jam, and I would have it no other way, but voices were raised to say a cream tea is only a real cream tea with blackberry jam. We did not even get on to the pronunciation of ‘scone’.

Brian's Cream tea (photo: Brian)

After that argument discussion we split up and went our separate ways.

And that was the end of the Odyssey for this year, all that is left is for me to note that we walked 48km, hardly our longest but we were constrained by time consuming logistics (and nothing to do with getting older)

But that was also the end of the Odyssey for ever, after 36 days walking spread over 12 years 2008-19 (inclusive, of course), so there has to be more: some thanks, reflections, assessments. And there will be – but not in this post which has already gone on long enough.

The South West Odyssey (English Branch)
Introduction
Day 1 to 3 (2008) Cardingmill Valley to Great Whitley
Day 4 to 6 (2009) Great Whitely to Upton-on-Severn via the Malvern Ridge
Day 7 to 9 (2010) Upton-on-Severn to Andoversford
Day 10 (2011) Andoversford to Perrott's Brook
Day 11 (2011) Perrott's Brook to the Round Elm Crossroads
Day 12 (2011) Walking Round Stroud
Day 13 (2012) Stroud to North Nibley
Day 14 (2012) North Nibley to Old Sodbury
Day 15 (2012) Old Sodbury to Swineford
Day 16 (2013) Along the Chew Valley
Day 17 (2013) Over the Mendips to Wells
Day 18 (2013) Wells to Glastonbury 'The Mountain Route'
Day 19 (2014) Glastonbury to Langport
Day 20 (2014) Along the Parrett and over the Tone
Day 21 (2014) Into the Quantocks
Day 22 (2015) From the Quantocks to the Sea
Day 23 (2015) Watchet, Dunster and Dunkery Hill
Day 24 (2015) Dunkery Beacon to Withypool
Day 25 (2016) Entering Devon and Leaving Exmoor
Day 26 (2016) Knowstone to Black Dog on the Two Moors Way
Day 27 (2016) Morchard Bishop to Copplestone
Day 28 (2017) Down St Mary to Drewsteignton
Day 29 (2017) Drewsteignton to Bennett's Cross
Day 30 (2017) Bennett's Cross to Lustleigh
Day 31 (2018) Southwest Across the Moor from Lustleigh
Day 32 (2018) South to Ugborough
Day 33 (2018) Ugborough to Ringmore
Day 34 (2019) Around the Avon Estuary to Hope Cove
Day 35 (2019):  Hope Cove to Prawle Point
Day 36 (2019) Prawle Point to Start Bay: The End
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The Last Post

That's All Folks - The Odyssey is done.

Wednesday 1 May 2019

Hope Cove to Prawle Point: Day 35 of the South West Odyssey (English Branch)

The South West Odyssey was a long distance walk.
Five like-minded people started in 2008 from the Cardingmill Valley in Shropshire and by walking three days a year finished at Start Bay on the South Devon Coast in May 2019.

Devon
Despite having walked closer to our accommodation yesterday, car shuffling was only a little less time-consuming; driving to the coast either side of the Kingsbridge Estuary involves a lengthy detour inland. Rias are estuaries out of all proportion to the small rivers that formed them, but Kingsbridge, one of Devon’s larger rias, takes this to extremes being an estuary without a river. Assorted creeks, brooks and streams run into its various arms, but nothing that could seriously claim to be a river.

As the map shows we did not plan to walk back round the ria; some amongst us can walk on water and they had promised a piggyback to the others. Sceptics might imagine I made that up and we would take a ferry – oh ye of little faith!

A longer walk today with a fair amount of up and down

Car shuffling done, it was nearly ten (though only 200 words in) before we hauled on our boots beside Brian’s car in the carpark between Inner and Outer Hope…

Boots on in Inner Hope - with Hope Cove and Bolt Tail in the background
…marched through Inner Hope…

A cottage lawn covered in thrift, Inner Hope
….with its carefully maintained tweeness…

Inner Hope
…and up the hillside beyond having decided not to trek all the way out to Bolt Tail just to come back again.

Looking back down to Inner Hope
Having cut the corner, we joined the South West Coastal Path east of Bolt Tail and walked along the cliff tops across a wide grassy sward.
 
Along the cliffs east of Bolt Tail (photo: Brian)
It was easy going for the next 3km…
 
Looking for birds on the gorse, cliff tops east of Bolt Tail
….though the path was not always surfaced.
 
Long the cliffs east of Bolt Tail
Progress was slowed by frequent pauses to observe the birds perching on the multitude of flowering gorse bushes. Francis and Brian identified cirl buntings, stonechats, meadow pipits, linnets, skylarks, whitethroats and wheatear. Not being a birder, I paid no part in the identification, but did have a good look at one of the many stonechats and a cirl bunting through borrowed binoculars, and handsome little birds they are. Apparently, we were privileged to see cirl buntings as this stretch of Devon coast is their only toe-hold in the UK.

This gentle stroll came to a halt at Soar Mill Cove where a small and nameless stream (perhaps the Soar?) has forced its way through the seaside cliffs necessitating a zig-zag 100m descent and a gentler climb up.

Soar Mill Cove
The climb may have been gentler and in two stages, but it was longer taking us above 135m. 

Looking towards Soar Mill Cove after the second stage of the ascent

Thereafter it was another pleasant amble through the gorse.
 
Through the gorse towards Bolt Head
We decided to cut off Bolt Head as we had Bolt Tail (somebody had brought some bolt cutters) so took an early turning towards Salcombe, dropped down to cross the stream at Starehole Bottom (who thought that was a good name?) and regained the South West Coast Path in time for the climb towards Sharp Tor.

Up from Starehole Bottom
We approached Sharp Tor on a stony path set into the cliff. Strangely evocative of a ‘Game of Thrones’ location it filled my mind with thoughts of ‘The Drowned God’ and ‘What is dead shall never die.’ Meanwhile Francis was looking over the cliff spotting ‘kittiwakes, lesser black-backed gulls, gannets, cormorants and a single fulmar’.

Up to Sharp Tor
I was glad the rocky path round the tor had a railing, it was an exposed and scary place though the wheeling seabirds and tumbling Greyjoys (sorry that’s my GoT fantasy again) below us looked happy enough.
 
Around Sharp Tor
The path beyond was flat and easy, though still cut into the cliff…

North from Shap Tor
…and still with views of interesting rock formations.

Rock Formstions north of Sharp Tor
Gradually it became wider and veered away from the cliff edge into a wooded world of bluebells and wild garlic.

Bluebells and wld garlic north of Sharp Tor (Photo: Brian)
A few dwellings started to appear and I began to think we had reached Salcombe. We had not, it was even further away than the view as we emerged from the woods suggested.

Salcombe centre is not yet in view
A short descent took us to a beach with the usual bars and restaurants of a holiday resort. ‘Salcombe,’ thought I, not bothering to look at the map. It was, in fact, South Sands.

South Sands - not quite Salcombe
The morning had been gradually warming and the thin mist was finally burning off so I was wearing too many clothes as we set off along the narrow road (there was no other route) up and over a substantial headland before descending into Salcombe. Only it was not Salcombe, it was another sandy beach beside the remnants of Salcombe’s Tudor Castle though the ruins lurk behind a high fence so I never saw them.

Although past the Castle we were still a long kilometre short of the town centre and there was yet another headland to cross on a narrow, walled road. I was 50m behind Francis and Alison and even further behind Brian and Mike so I had no time to remove my jacket. I was struggling, uncomfortably hot and beginning to doubt Salcombe’s existence long before I reached the top.

But apparently Salcombe does exist and walking down the main street with my jacket now in my rucksack I observed Francis and Alison had stopped while Mike and Brian were a hundred metres down the road and still going. Reaching Francis and Alison I saw they were standing by a flight of steps with an arrow pointing down to the Portlesham ferry and the Ferry Inn, just where we wanted to go.

Mike and Brian had disappeared round the corner so we had to follow them down and found them at the main ferry jetty looking mildly surprised at the wrong ferry. Being local, Brian had done a recce a couple of weeks earlier and this was where our ferry had docked then, but ‘then’ is not ‘now’ and they had walked straight past the relevant sign.

We all walked back up the hill, down the steps and onto the deck of the Ferry Inn – a pint of lunch was the first priority.

Sitting in the sunshine outside the Ferry Inn, Salcombe. Why does everyone looks so happy?
Mike has an enormous pot of tea all to himself.
The Kingsbridge Estuary is less than 300m wide between Salcombe and the Portlemouth landing stage…
 
Crossing the Kingsbridge Estuary from Salcombe
…and we shared our short journey with a small party of Buddhist monks from Thailand.
 
The ferry heads back towards Salcombe from the Portlemouth landing stage (Photo: Brian)
We walked down the other side of the estuary to Mill Bay where the minor road ends. In the season Mill Bay may well be crowded, the lane heading inland is lined with a hundred(ish) parking spaces, all marked and numbered, but on this lovely May day it was deserted. The boat we had watched making ready from the Ferry Inn came past under sail (and engine, I think) and on the far shore, just behind its stern is a crenellated wall and small tower. So that is Salcombe Castle.

Mill Bay
We climbed gently away from the coast to the regulation 100m up a path lined with large old trees. Mike and I could not work out if they were dead or just late coming into leaf, but without leaves we could not identify them.

At the top field paths and a minor road took us back to the Coastal Path at Gara Rock which turned out to be not a rock at all but a new up-market hotel with ‘Scandi-chic décor, artisanal gin and superfood facials’ according to the Daily Telegraph. I presume the writer knew what they meant.
 
Alison approaches Gara Rock

Perhaps there is a rock as well, but we did not linger, there were 3km between us and Prawle Point and Francis set off at storming pace.

This was the best but most demanding part of this year’s walk. After a fairly gentle start across the grassy cliff top…


A gentle start after the descent from Gara Rock
….the path clung to the cliff side, continually either climbing or dropping but very rarely level. Sometimes the surface was easy to walk on
 
Gara rock to Prawle Point (photo: Brian)
…at other times it was stony with rocky sections, some quite exposed, which needed to be carefully negotiated. I took few photos on this section, partly because I needed to concentrate on not falling in the water, and partly because my camera was playing up, the lens refusing to either fully extend or retract.

I would not like to walk this wild and rugged coastline in poor weather, but we were blessed with gentle sunshine as we crossed Pig’s Nose, passed the Ham Stone and continued to Gammon Head – a theme perhaps? In the morning gates and signposts had been helpfully marked with grid references, here there were none and as one rocky cove looks much like another, I was never sure where we were. Alison says the picture below is of Gammon Head.
 
Gammon Head (photo: Alison)
Struggling to keep up with the relentless pace I called a brief respite, probably on Gammon Head, but it could have been some other part of the porker. Most seemed happy enough to take a breather.
 
Taking a break, Gammon Head (I think)
Meanwhile Alison noticed the unusual combination of gorse and bluebells growing together.

Bluebells and gorse, Gammon Head (Photo: Alison)
Continuing, Brian and I raised cameras at the sight of a trio of sheep artistically arranged on a rocky outcrop. Two of the sheep absented themselves before shutters could be pressed, but even one looks good. For once my camera behaved itself, but Brian had the better photo.

Sheep in charge, Gammon Head (photo: Brian)
Minutes later Alison spotted a slowworm absorbing the sun on our path. I always thought they were small snakes, but apparently they are legless lizards (should have stayed off the gin).

Slowworm on the approach to Prawle Point
We reached the final climb onto Prawle Point, the southernmost point of Devon. For the first seven or eight years of this walk there was no defined endpoint, but at some stage Francis decided Prawle Point would be it, so as we came up the grassy slope to the Lookout Station atop the headland the Odyssey was about to finish.

Up the grassy slope to the Lookout Station on Prawle Point
Only it wasn’t. These walks are three-day events (though with more cross-country and less dressage) and this was only the end of Day 2; there would be more tomorrow when our 12-year marathon would ironically end in Start Bay. Prawle Point is more photogenic from the east, so here is a photo from tomorrow showing its stone arch and Lookout Station
 
Prawle Point (from the East side)
Once on the headland it was a short walk to Mike’s car in the National Trust Car Park at the end of the minor road out to the point.

Francis had been looking forward to a pint in the Pig’s Nose in East Prawle to mark our southernmost location, but time was against us. Brian’s car still had to be fetched from Inner Hope, and we were booked for a celebratory dinner at The Cricketer in Beesands at 7.

After a tough 19km I was sore and tired but revived after my shower - once all the driving was completed. The Cricketer did us proud and a convivial evening was had by all.

Footnote: I am sorry to announce the (perhaps temporary) demise of my Cannon Powershot. I have not had it very long, but in that time this complex and delicate piece of machinery has nestled in my sweaty palm in the heat of southern India, been soaked in a Dartmoor hailstorm and climbed a dune in the Empty Quarter. In short, I have mistreated it.

The South West Odyssey (English Branch)