Week One - Granite, Tin and Pasties
It’s quite odd trying to think about a blog that covers the last week, week one of the long walk. I always thought the first week would be the hardest; everything is new and a routine hasn’t been established. The weather, my feet and living in the van were all big unknowns. But the weather has been fantastic, apart from a few twinges in toes and knees nothing has given up or stopped working and we’ve settled into a daily routine of me walking and Sandra walking and doing support.
So what’s it Like?
Starting with the landscape, I’ve always liked geology, it explains where and why industries, ancient and modern were and are located, where and why people built villages, town and cities. Many years ago when I was doing my geography ‘O’ level we were taught that about the Tees-Exe Line, basically if you draw a line across the country from the mouth of the River Tees to the mouth of the River Exe you can divide the country into two.
North and West of the line the rocks are old, hard and full of interesting things like coal, iron and other stuff that drove the industrial revolution. South and East of the line the rocks are young, soft and contain nothing of interest but are very fertile. Like all generalisations there are exceptions but it’s good enough for most purposes.
Granite boulders on the beach slowly weathering down to golden sand
From a walking and climbing point of view it means that most of the good stuff is North and West of the line, when I lived near St Albans and worked in London I’d have to go to Wales, the Peak District, The Lakes or Scotland for my sport. And this walk pretty much runs the length of the country, keeping well to the North and West of that boundary.
Cornwall is most definitely north and west of the line and I’ve been walking on granites and shales, both produce fine cliffs but the granite weathers to soggy, black peaty paths while the shales give better drained and seemingly more fertile brown soils. But only granite gives decent climbing.
Whatever the rocks underfoot the most obvious feature of the North Cornish Coast Path is its stubborn refusal to hold an elevation for more than a kilometre, or a straight line of any description. Most walking consists of an early uphill pull followed by a decent promenade over a relatively consistent elevation, not the Cornish Coast Path, a beach walk ends with a lung bursting climb to a cliff top path, which leads around a huge headland before plunging down to the next beach. The first time it happens it’s a new walking experience, by the fourth repletion in as many hours it’s getting both boring and knackering!
St Agnes Village, the path came down the cliffs on the far side, went through the village then climbed back up again!
A lot of the books I’ve read say that the South West Coast Path is particularly hard because of this constant roller-coaster along the cliff tops, technically it’s not actually that hard, the longest day so far has only had an elevation of some 500 meters, not much more than half the hight you’d have to gain to get to the top of Scafell Pike, but it feels a lot more, mostly because the ascents and descents are spectacularly steep and particularly hard on the knees.
So there’s been an awful lot of ups and downs from huge golden beaches with vast rolling seas and breakers to the tops of granite cliffs and headlands before descending to the next beach and repeating the process. And on top of the cliffs are the tin mines, or rather their old, abandoned remains; lonely chimney stacks and derelict engine houses standing beside abandoned mine shafts.
Tin mines near Levant, nothing romantic about working down there.
The last mines closed in the late 1990’s, priced out of existence by cheap imports of tin and copper, much has been written about the devastation the collapse of mining had on Cornwall and the resulting exodus of miners and their families, but it was hard and dangerous work.
Apparently there are still huge deposits of metals beneath Cornwall, all it needs for a mining renaissance is for the world price of tin and copper to reach a level that opening up the seams would be viable. In the meantime the old ruins provide both a poignant reminder of times past and photogenic ruins to walk past.
In the olden days, Cornwall’s contribution to world gastronomy, the pasty, fuelled the miners and farmers, now they are fuelling my progress towards John O’Groats, it must be said I do like a good pasty, the best ones, bought in village bakeries are delicious, filling and provide much needed energy for those bloody steep paths twisting up from beach to cliff top.
As far as the walking is concerned, after making allowances for the coastal roller-coaster it has been fantastic.
The days have been long and varied and the scenery majestic in the classic Cornish manner, steep cliff, huge sandy beaches, dazzling, huge blue skies and hours of sunshine. Despite the ups and down I’ve made great progress, much better than I expected when I was planning the walk. I’d settled on an average of about 10 to 11 miles a day with a day off every week.
Carbis Bay just south of St Ives, this was where Sandra saw a dolphin while she was having a dip.
But either I’m fitter than I expected (unlikely) or the walking is easier (probably) because I’m making very good progress, after a week I’m a day ahead of schedule and don’t feel the need to take the planed rest day. The main reasons I’m currently doing so well is Sandra’s support, the weather and a rejigging of the micro plan.
I’m incredibly lucky that while I’m walking my linear route Sandra is providing a fantastic logistical support service, she drops me off in the morning, walks with me and Arthur until lunch time then takes the hound back to the van and leaves me to stride off on my own before picking me up at the end of the day and ferrying me back to the campsite for beer and showers. Without her the walk would be much harder and a lot less fun. She’s walking nearly as far as I am but in a less exciting “there and back” fashion.
The Backup Team negotiating one of Cornwall’s granite stiles - everything on the granite lands is build of big rocks on an epic scale.
The weather has been unbelievably good, bright and sunny for the last week, although the strong North-east and Easterly winds have been a constant annoyance the weather has been dry, the paths have dried out and by and large I’ve been able to make very good progress. It’s always much easier and nicer to walk in sunshine than in the rain and it also means I can carry a much lighter day sack.
On a cold windy and/or wet day I’d be taking a waterproof coat and over trousers, a warm hat, probably gloves and a miserable attitude. When it’s sunny and dry, even if the wind is freezing I can get away with just trousers, a T shirt and light shirt with a wind proof fleece for when the wind gets too chilly. All that’s in my rucksack is the windproof fleece, sandwiches, apple, water bottle and camera; that’s hardly any weight at all. My rucksack is light, my mood is lightened by the spring sunshine and my steps fly along the Cornish Coast Path.
Or they would if I was sticking to the Cornish Coast Path; I’m not, my original plan was based on following the path because when I was gazing into my crystal ball, the route of the Coast Path was a known and measurable base line. Now I’m here I can micro manage the walk almost kilometre by kilometre, and while much of my route follows that path it is often possible to cut corners and take shorter field paths to save time and distance.
So how far have I got, well, pretty damn far, discounting the stroll to Land’s End on Tuesday 15th I started the walk proper on Wednesday 16th. A week later, by the end of Tuesday 22nd I’ve walked 133 kilometres and ascended and descended 3091 metres; this has taken 38 ½ hours of walking and 194,348 steps.
All in all, I’m feeling quite chuffed with myself but more importantly I’m really enjoying the experience of seeing Northern Cornwall pass slowly by.
Early morning at Bosigran, the van is parked beside an old mine pump house on top of the cliffs.