DAYS 1-3 NEWQUAY, PORT ISAAC TO POLZEATH

“Oh no, I’ve done it again!” exclaimed Paul, rummaging through the suitcase as we settled in to our hotel in Newquay.  I knew exactly what he meant.  Last year, when we were away for a weekend, he forgot to pack any underpants and just made do with the pair he was wearing, but now we were facing a week of walking ahead!  Shops had closed for the day, which meant he’d have to pop out early before we caught the bus to Port Isaac tomorrow.  Luckily, Newquay was big enough to furnish him with a couple of options and Poundland came to the rescue – not so much Calvin Klein, these say Ride My Bike [no comment, wide eyes red cheeks emoji!].

We had arrived in Newquay after lunch, and parked in the long stay car park, so we spent the afternoon and evening wandering around, checking out the beach, and enjoying an ice cream.  There was a Wetherspoons opposite our hotel, so that was dinner sorted!  [I should mention here that Paul has a spreadsheet listing all the Wetherspoons, and every new one visited gets logged.  Before you laugh, remember we are retired.]  Newquay was very pleasant and sunny.  Of course this didn’t last, the next day was rainy and extremely windy, around forty miles per hour!  At least we weren’t walking yet, we had set aside this day for travel to our start point, the much filmed village of Port Isaac.  The first bus was getting us to Wadebridge, but en route, near Cornwall’s space port [yes, really] the bus reversed into a parking slot where we were told we had to get off, and board the bus next to us instead.  “You’re changing buses, not drivers” was the only explanation offered.  In Wadebridge, we found the stop for what proved to be a hair raising journey to Port Isaac [if you thought driving a car along Devon and Cornwall’s country roads was a bit tight, try riding the bus-the lanes are narrow, the bends are sharp, the hills are steep!].  At one point, roadworks were occupying half the lane, so the bus had even less space to squeeze past their lorry, resulting in a buttock clenching clunk and screech of metal.  The driver stopped to exchange a few words with a workman, I may be paraphrasing a little, but I think the gist of the conversation was something like, “I say my good man, would you mind moving your vehicle over a little, I’m in a spot of bother here”.  Paul and I were the only passengers at this stage, and when we got off, we looked for damage.  The driver got off too-there was a vertical rip in the metal and paint stripped off on the corner by the door.  I imagine this is a regular occurrence in Cornwall.

Next, we had to locate our AirBnb, a spare bedroom in a family’s house [which turned out to be the last house in Port Isaac, a pleasant walk downhill to the port, a leg sapping climb back].  We were able to ditch our suitcase and head into the village for lunch at The Golden Lion, the bar area I immediately recognised as featuring in the film Fisherman’s Friends, as well as the long running TV series Doc Martin.  The latter must have filmed every corner of Port Isaac, it really isn’t that big!  We had a bit of a wander around, but it really wasn’t pleasant with the wind blowing so fiercely.  In the evening, we ate at the Old School House, which still has a couple of signs around for the fictional Portwenn.  

The next day we began our walk with a stop at the Slipway pub to get the passport stamped-the barmaid knew nothing about it but said the boss was due any minute if we wanted to wait.  Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn’t arrived, so we decided to leave [my previous luck with the stamping had evidently run out!].  The wind today had dropped to twenty five mph, but this was still very high, walking on an exposed coastal path.  As we left the village, an old man greeted us, then muttered “crazy people” as we passed!  It certainly wasn’t the kind of day you would choose to go walking, but hey ho, with British weather it’s the luck of the draw.  At least the muddy areas were few and far between, a bit of a surprise considering the shed loads of rain we’ve suffered this year.  We’d barely covered any distance before my legs felt tired, starting with a flight of steps didn’t give us a chance to warm up, but the terrain was a good path or grassy cliff top, so this was a help.  Listening back to my voice memos, they are barely audible over the wind noise, I’m really not exaggerating the conditions.  Still, it was the perfect opportunity to try out my newest piece of equipment-ear muffs!  On our practice walks, I’d found going hatless resulted in cold ears, but a woolly hat got my head overheated [these days, all the heat in my body congregates at the top] but the muffs were perfect, and had the added bonus of keeping my hair off my face [personal comfort trumps looking a bit weird!].

Having panicked slightly over my state of fitness after a mere mile, I’d definitely warmed up as we covered a “bitty” section; ups, downs, steps, and a bit of scrambling.  But our biggest issue was the headwind; the effort we were making was brought home when the wind suddenly dropped and left us staggering like a pair of drunks!  Progress was concerning-it was supposedly just three miles to Port Quin, but it still wasn’t in sight after two hours of walking.  It took another half hour to reach it, and as there was a picnic table on the green, we stopped to refuel with a sandwich and Snickers.  Not the worst picnic we’d ever had, but it was, and I quote, “a bit parky” [for my overseas reader, that’s British for absolutely freezing cold!].  With five and a half miles ahead, Paul was already talking about a short cut [or, as I call it, cheating] but we didn’t have to make any decisions just yet.

On a nice day, this section would be very pleasant, only rare moments of steepness [at one short sequence of rocky steps even a rope hand rail was provided] but my next memo described it as “really cold and really windy” and my legs were definitely feeling sapped of energy.  Consequently, we decided we would indeed cut off a part of the Pentire headland [shame, shame].  It wasn’t just my legs, Paul has a bad back he has to take care of, and he was feeling some twinges.  At a car park on the outskirts of Polzeath, we sat at another picnic table to have the second half of our lunch, but in the cold, we just felt miserable and our muscles began to stiffen up, so we weren’t getting a proper recovery as we do on a warm day.  I draw your attention to our pathetically low pace in the stats, entirely due to the wind, as the terrain was pretty good overall.  

With Polzeath in sight, we rallied for the last push as we hit the coastline on the opposite side of the headland, crossed the beach, and found our [rather lovely] hotel.  A restaurant was attached to it, so no more walking to get dinner!  Actually, it was a very nice meal, accompanied by a gorgeous orange sunset.  Although we’d had a tough start, we knew the next day was only a short distance [we wanted to stay in Padstow] so we would hopefully have a chance to recover properly before a long stretch the day afterwards.

Stats of the day:-

Distance: 6.99 miles

Time: 3hrs 11mins

Pace: 2.2mph

Ascent: 825ft

Descent: 1000ft