The South Hams of Devon – Dartmouth to Torcross – 12th September 2019
Dartmouth
Parking at Slapton village’s ‘Park and Walk’ car parking area enables us to park all day at no cost and take the short walk down to the bus stop at Slapton Turn, to catch the bus to Dartmouth. On arrival at the bus stop it seems we are not to travel alone. Several dogs wait both inside and outside of the bus shelter, with their grey and beige owners enthusiastically chatting about their respective pets – like doting parents at the school gate.
By the time the bus arrives there must be a dozen or more humans waiting and half that number of canines. The bus is already well packed so we elect to stand. A few stops later another walking couple of similar age to ourselves boards and take up a position next to us. Walkers are no different to dog owners, with favourite walks and walking equipment replacing doggy behaviour as the topic of conversation. I’m sure a fair number of dog people would roll their eyes to hear us talking enthusiastically about the South West Coast Path or the demands of the Coast to Coast Path.
Half-an-hour-or-so later the bus pulls alongside the waterfront at Dartmouth, with dogs, bus-pass bearers and serious walkers filing off to go about their business. The last time we were here (2 days ago – having had a day-off) we crossed over the Dart from Kingswear. Today a large French cruise ship dominates the waterfront, squatting mid-river. These ships are like giant hotels that arrive in the dead of night and miraculously disappear a day or so later like some modern-day ‘Will-o’-the-wisp’. It is a measure of Dartmouth’s reputation as a tourist venue that over a thousand overseas visitors see fit to spend perhaps 10% of their expensive holiday in such a place. I can well understand the attraction, with Dartmouth looking like a hybrid between the Mediterranean and a Norwegian Fjord town.
French cruise-liner docked at Dartmouth
Having already done Dartmouth on our last visit, we quickly head along the waterfront in search of the Coast Path that will deliver us back to Slapton. We foolishly assume that all we have to do, is to stick to the edge of the water and the coast path will automatically appear. Instead we end up in the middle of a photoshoot in an ancient waterside ruin, next to a rather dapper gentleman, sporting immaculately coiffed grey hair and beard and dressed in a well cut blue suit. I note he also wears shiny blue brogues and make a mental note to get myself some – brogues that is, since my immaculately coiffed hair days are long behind me, being replaced with my immaculately shiny-bonced reality.
The very nice photographer quickly directs us up some adjacent steps to the road and the South West Coast Path. The improved elevation gives us a much better vantage point from which to observe the Dart Estuary, as we wind past small riverside stone cottages and are overlooked by opulent country retreats. One of the cottages boasts a swan in its garden. This is not one of the feathered kind, but one of those pleasure-boats we spotted on the boating lake in Paignton. However, this specimen has been upgraded for speed, being fitted with a large outboard motor. I’d love to see this ferrying French tourists to and from their palatial floating hotel.
Dartmouth – overlooked by turbo-charged swan
Eventually the road takes us to Dartmouth Castle and St Petrox Church. Both buildings have existed here since the Middle Ages, with the complex serving navigation, defence and religious purposes.
Whilst investigating the route of the coast path I bump into the walking couple from the bus. This brings about an embarrassed “Hello”, with both parties probably feeling they should return to the previous conversation, but neither really wanting to deviate from their new focus of walking the coast path. They head off in the direction of the castle, whilst we elect to stride purposefully up a flight of steeply rising steps that climb the cliff ahead of us. This is a mistake, since the humidity soon sees us perspiring profusely under the effort.
Dartmouth Castle and St Petrox Church
From Dartmouth Castle onwards the coast path appears to have been devised by the same sadist responsible for the path on the other side of the estuary, as it continues up and down its scenic route along the cliffs. At one point we are tempted to follow the level route of the road, but stick to the path and its tortuously sweaty way, past the aptly named Deadman’s Cove and on to Compass Cove. Thermal regulation is now a major problem, with us overheating on the uphills, followed by teeth-chattering cold in the brisk winds at the top. At Compass Cove the coast path’s architect must have mercifully handed-over the reigns to a person of a gentler walking persuasion, as the route follows the top of the cliffs.
At Warren Point the Coast Path leaves the cliff edge, following the road to Stoke Fleming. Here we find a quiet park and a bench donated in memory of Anthony and Carolyn Steen – “for the use of residents”. Declaring ourselves honorary residents, we tuck into sandwiches and cakes as we watch the world go by.
Some of the passer’s-by are obviously residents – walking their dogs, or taking young children to the playground – but most are walkers like ourselves, taking on the charms and challenges of the South West Coast Path. They come in all shapes, sizes and ages. Some are really serious back-packers – carrying their tents with them (or possibly they just like a large wardrobe to choose from), but most are day-hikers like ourselves – perhaps looking to do a circular, or ‘there and back’ walk of between 5 and 10 miles.
Lunch finished, we stop ‘gauping’ and follow the path as it winds around the back lanes of the charming village of Stoke Fleming, studiously avoiding contact with the noise and threat of the traffic on the main road. This doesn’t last however, as we have to cross the A379 and make our way down to Blackpool Sands (no – not the one with the tower) along a path that runs next to it.
Fortunately the path is below road level, with most noise passing overhead, whilst a belt of enormous pines – of some considerable antiquity – provides the ambience and shade that we crave.
Blackpool Sands from Stoke Fleming
Blackpool Sands is a quiet cove of perfect orange sand, where the discerning bather can pay just £3 to park her car for the day and either soak up the sun, or maybe run through the shallows with children or dog in tow. Perfect perhaps, except for the murmur of traffic from the main road above.
We passed along this road earlier, on the bus, when the most noteworthy sight was of a moss covered, thatched cottage set in a hairpin bend in the road. The words of Keats immediately spring to mind:
“Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;”
Whilst the Indian-summer sunshine continues to convince the bees that
“warm days will never cease”
At this point on the map I notice that it splits into two routes, with an alternative route labelled ‘E9 European Long Distance Route’. It seems that our European cousins are happy to follow the South West Coast Path for most of its journey, but not here. Most strange!
Thatched cottage at Blackpool Sands
Beyond the thatched cottage the path is a little contrived, weaving in and out of fields and kissing gates. At one point we find ourselves in a field full of cows casting malevolent gazes in our direction, as they chew their cud and we inch our way along the hedge trying to find the cleverly disguised exit.
Cows behind us we just have to cross the A379 and one last hill. I call it a hill, but the slope angle on it fills me with wonder as to how the soil and grass manage to cling onto it, let alone any cows that may happen to graze there. As we climb the hill’s mere 40 metres of vertical interval I find myself head-down and puffing as my legs piston me up the slope. I start with a good head of steam, determined to best it, but soon find it difficult to match escape velocity, as gravity contrives to hold me back.
Betty grinds up the ‘sting-in-the-tail’ hill….
but the view back towards Blackpool Sands is worth the climb
Close to the top I pass into a sort of yogic trance, staring at the well worn ground beneath my feet. It is then that I achieve a moment of enlightenment. At this steepest part of the slope I find myself wondering how the rudimentary steps cut into the orange soil of the slope came into being. Were they purposely made by some charitable soul who once passed this way? I think not. More likely they have been worn by the endless passage of feet, wearing alternating earthen footsteps, left-right, left-right, in the grass – that perfectly fit my stride length. I marvel that over the years, thousands of walkers must have slipped into a natural walking rhythm as they trudged up this challenging incline.
I share my revelation with Betty, who bursts my bubble by confessing that she got out of step – putting left foot, into right earth step and vice-versa. Some people just have to be different!
It occurs to me that the E9 European Long Distance Path did well to avoid this little sting-in-the-tail section.
A short walk through grassy pastures brings us back out onto the A379, this time at the village of Strete. The village post office invites us in with the promise of ice-creams, only for the shop-keeper to advise us that “All I’ve got is in the far corner of the fridge.”
For some reason the fridge top is open, with a tray containing frozen peas and a packet of short-crust pastry sitting on top of the ice-cream tray. I move it to one side and select the only two ice creams remaining amongst the ice-lollies – a brace of White Chocolate Magnums (no, ‘other makes of ice-cream’ are not available at this venue). Considering that we’ve had over a week of hot sunny weather, I think he would have been wise to have ordered a few more ice-creams – he would have made a killing. Some folk are just not very marketing savvy.
Like a good boy I return the peas and short-crust pastry tray to where I found them on top of the fridge and go to pay for my two Magnums. However, the shop-keeper ignores my proferred coins and darts straight to the fridge, muttering something about closing the top.
I pick-up on his irritation explaining “that’s how it was when I arrived”.
He gives me one of those unconvinced looks. It also seems some folk are just not very customer aware either.
We decide to eat our ice-creams in a nearby bus shelter, but somehow they now don’t taste as good as they might have before our wordless altercation.
The next bit of the walk is a little hairy, with the A379 narrowing to barely two-car’s width and with no footway. To add to the danger, the road also bends here. Fortunately there is a break in the traffic and we scuttle along to safety, just before several cars come speeding along. There then follows a section of walkway that has been taken from an adjacent field, where the E9 ELDP rejoins us. Here we disappear along a newly created footpath, which takes us downhill towards the sea.
It now becomes evident that the original SWCP followed the A379 through and beyond Strete. Half a mile of this must have been a daunting prospect for any walker. The EU must have taken one look at this route and condemned it as too dangerous for it’s citizens and came up with the E9 ELDP modifications observed. I suspect money changed hands along the way, since to our relief a whole new path has been created. This is not shown on my newly purchased OS Map (published 2015)and now bypasses this worrying stretch of the Coast Path.
The new path can’t be more than a year old since my sleuthing eyes notice that Canadian Fleabane and other annual plants of disturbed ground are growing alongside it. Within a couple of years these will be overun by the recently cut-back brambles. God Bless the EU and all the other donors who keep this path going!
The new path re-emerges at Strete Gate, at the northern end of Slapton Sands. To the north there is a further mile of the beach tucked away under the cliffs. The conveniently placed toilets carry a warning to visitors of a prudish disposition. Apparently this northern half mile stretch of sands is designated as a naturist beach, with the toilets being used by both communities. Naturists are of course asked to dress appropriately when using the toilet facilities provided. On a hot sunny day I can see the attractions of stripping off and skinny-dipping in the surf, but Betty will have none of it, and besides we have a walk to finish.
We have decided to walk all the way to Torcross at the southern end of Slapton Sands, in the interests of reducing the length of the next section of our walk scheduled for tomorrow. The next 2 or 3 miles of walking is perhaps the most tedious and noisy thus far experienced. We walk sandwiched between Slapton Ley – a beautiful lowland lake created when longshore drift separated the fresh waters of the Ley from the salt-water of the sea – and the A379.
The road at this point is long and straight, encouraging ‘boy-racers’ of all ages to put their foot down and overtake any ‘Henry Pootle’ who happens to be dawdling along admiring the scenery. Hopefully one day the path will be diverted, perhaps inland to Slapton village and around the Ley, to avoid this.
The final march to Torcross is made all the less attractive by the fact that our car is parked at Slapton and we have to walk away from it to get to Torcross, before returning to Slapton. There is something psychologically damaging about walking past the sanctuary of your car after 12 miles of walking. Thankfully we won’t have to walk this section again!
*On researching the local press (https://www.devonlive.com/news/devon-news/plan-being-put-place-case-3484148), I discover that the 2018 storm Emma carried away a large proportion of the beach and A379 at Slapton. They had to rebuild the road 20 metres nearer to the edge of Slapton Ley. This explains why the path is so narrow between road and Ley.
It seems that preparations are afoot to mitigate against further serious damage to this road in the future. It is anticipated that one day the road may have to be rerouted in some way, leaving the current road line to be converted into a tourist focus, including creating walks around the Ley. It seems my prayers have been answered!
One thing the article didn’t mention was the certainty that with sea level rising, Slapton Ley itself may be reclaimed by the sea. Perhaps that will be in a future edition of the paper?