Soar Mill Cove to Bantham 16th September 2019

Yesterday was so successful that we decide to start from Soar Mill Cove Hotel again, but follow the coast westward this time, as far as Bantham.  We might return the back along the coast, but more likely we’ll take a cross-country route back and have that pint we missed out on yesterday.

At Soar Mill Cove Hotel we go through the same routine as yesterday, although a different receptionist is on duty.  It is sunny yet again, but we are hopeful that the light breeze will stop us getting too hot.

At 11:30 a.m. we’re not much earlier than we were yesterday, but have a lot further to walk.  From Soar Mill Cove we once again have a stiff climb to the top of the cliffs.  This time however we have come prepared – using our walking poles.  Once at the top, I put away my pole, only to discover my optimism is premature – there’s another 30 metres to climb.  That’ll teach me never to make assumptions!

Bolt Tail with Bigbury Bay and Hope (right)

As we approach Bolberry Down the coast path gets a lot busier, especially with older walkers.  A quick check of the map reveals that there is an ideally placed National Trust car park, and waymarked walks to Soar Mill Cove and Bolt Tail.  A licensed restaurant within a few hundred metres of the car park just adds to the attraction.

Normally on the coast path, when walkers meet they exchange a cheery “hello.”  This is not too arduous, since in the course of a day’s walk, you only pass other walkers perhaps a dozen times on most of it.  However, as the path gets busier a point is reached when people cease to be quite so welcoming. This might be because these townies are not imbued with the same sense of comradeship, or maybe because saying hello to a total stranger every few metres becomes a little irksome. Nonetheless we stick by our code and say hello to each and every one prepared to give us some face.  Many don’t even acknowledge your existence though and just stare at their feet.

Bolberry Down used to be the site of a vital navigation system for the South West Approaches, particularly for fishing vessels.  The system originated in World War 2, with Bolberry Down being active from the 1950s until 2000.  Today the system has been superseded by GPS, with satellites now taking on the role.  Although I always prefer to use an OS map when walking, many walkers prefer to use their mobile phone and GPS to find their location.  I suppose I’m ‘old school’ enjoying the challenge of interpreting a map, rather than having some ‘smart-alec’ in my pocket telling me where I am, or even worse where to go.  No Big Brother is watching me thank you!

Despite being ‘old school’ I can see a time coming when they will be displaced.  One of the biggest problems with a folded OS map comes about when you come to a fold in the map, or cross a point when your two-sided map requires you to flip to the other side (as is the case with the 1:25000 scale Explorer map for South Devon).  I have experimented with making A4 sized photocopies of relevant parts of our original map.  These small-format maps can be swopped whenever you reach the edge of one and move onto another.  It also stops your original getting too weather-beaten and worn.  Saving a photo on your mobile phone, of sections of your map, is a further option.  This enables those of us with diminished eye function to expand the map to check on details.

Of course the OS offer digital versions of their maps, but reading reviews of these it seems that the jury is still out.  My personal preference is not to rely on anything that becomes less visible in bright sunlight, that can lose its signal unexpectedly and which represents the landscape in a box the size of your pocket.  The key innovation will come when these restrictions are addressed.

In the meantime we walk using our folded map.  It is however fortunate that today we are walking a section which involves very few folds in the map.

By the time we reach Bolt Tail the crowds are diminishing rapidly and we have the remains of the hill fort to ourselves and a few sheep.  Many of the sheep have strange pom-poms in the middle of their backs.  I wonder if this is a unique and intentional way of marking that the farmer has come up with, instead of the usual red or blue marks.  Normally the farmer can identify which of his ewes has been tupped by the ram, who usually has an inky pad attached to his fore-quarters.  When he mounts the ewe, he leaves a coloured mark on her hind quarters.  Perhaps our farmer has a particularly talented ram, who gives each ewe a distinctive haircut as his calling card? As a hairdresser, Betty is particularly fond of that suggestion.

Hope Lifeboat Station still serves its original function of saving lives

The walk from Bolt Head to Hope is a pleasant downhill one, through woodland, bringing us out at the Hope Lifeboat Station.  The original lifeboats that were housed here, ceased operation in the 1930s.  However, since 2010 the Hope lifeboat service has been resurrected as an independent rescue service, operating a RIB in Bigbury Bay.

The coast path around Hope is littered with poems printed onto laminated A4 sheets of paper.  The one outside of the Lifeboat Station is well placed, being Tennyson’s “Crossing the Bar”.  This poem compares putting out to sea at the end of the day, across The Bar at nearby Salcombe Harbour, with the certainties and uncertainties faced towards the end of life.  17 years later 13 of the 15 man Salcombe Lifeboat crew were killed in heavy seas, whilst crossing The Bar.  Tennyson’s words have been put to music by Salamander Crossing. (https://bluegrasstoday.com/story-behind-the-song-crossing-the-bar/)

Although for many folk 1.15pm is lunch time, we tend to move in a later time zone.  Nonetheless, we are just about ready for a morning coffee when we stumble acrossthe aptly named Sun Bay Hotel Restaurant.  We seize the moment and order a couple of lattes, whilst we sit resting on our elbows at a picnic table and enjoy the sun and the views across the bay.  Fifteen minutes later we are turfed off our bench by a family who have booked it for their lunch.  I can see no ‘reserved’ sign, but we acquiesce in good humour.  It is only when I go to the toilet that I notice the chalk marks on my forearms which when held up to the mirror read “reserved”.  My eyes are not what they once were.

Our brief but welcome coffee break over, we continue through Hope,  passing the Lobster Pod Bistro with its eye-catching glass pods which give all-weather dining combined with unrestricted views along the coast.  Beyond Hope the coast path gives endless views out into the dark blue sea or along the coast towards Bigbury. 

The next honey-pot for sun, sea and sand seekers is Thurlestone Sand, where the National Trust are cashing-in big-time, providing parking for the hundreds of visitors’ cars.  At £5 a car this will provide valuable income to manage its large holding in the South Hams area.

Panorama of Thurlestone Sands and the South Milton Ley Nature Reserve

Just beyond the car park an elegant footbridge takes us across South Milton Ley.  This, like Slapton Ley further east, is a flooded river valley whose drainage is impeded by the formation of a beach across its mouth.  Lowland wetlands such as this are a threatened habitat – by land-owners wishing to convert them to farmland.  Fortunately the land is owned by Devon Birds who manage it for the conservation of birds and other wildlife (https://www.devonbirds.org/home).

Beyond Thurleston Sands we come to the village of Thurlestone which is bounded on its western side by a golf course.  Although Thurlestone has a number of older properties, it is the modern housing and holiday camp, with its sports facilities, that dominates.  At the southern end of the bay is a distinctive looking rock called Thurlestone Rock.  It is an example of a natural arch, formed by marine erosion.  Most natural arches are found close to eroding cliff-lines, but this one stands aloof – in the middle of a wave-cut-platform.  Its name is derived from the Anglo-Saxon word ‘thirled’ stone – meaning ‘hole‘ stone.

Thurlestone Rock stands enigmatically in the middle of the bay formed out of Permian Sandstone

Keeping a whether eye open for flying golf balls, we lunch at the top of a promontory overlooking yet another distinctive rock carved by the sea – Long Stone.  This one is a needle shaped pinnacle close to the foot of the cliff.

As we tuck in we have a clear view of Bantham Sand, where lots of people are in the process of swimming, surfing and paddling.  Their excited voices reach us half a mile away.  Beyond the mouth of the River Avon is Burgh Island, with its Hotel. It appears to be cut off at high tide, although we can see that the sand must be firm at low tide, as a car crosses at significant speed to the hotel.

Beyond Burgh Island and the adjacent small town of Bigbury, the afternoon sun gleams white off the distant slate cliffs.  As we descend, the sound of children screaming from the beach, rises to a crescendo.  This is probably the biggest of the tourist beaches along this part of the South Devon coast, with all the necessary trappings of car park, lifeguard, in-shore lifeboat, ice cream vendor and toilets.  We stop to indulge in both of the latter before deciding on our return route to Soar Mill Cove Hotel.

As I suspected, when we first set out, we take the option of walking cross-country.  Whilst this is the more direct and shorter option, it is unfortunately across the natural topography.  Initially we have to climb up to the older part of Thurlestone village, which is much nicer than the coastal end.  Our chosen footpath takes us down deserted foot paths and lanes enabling us to really see the local area, rather than just the coast.

Pleasant as the walk is, it is hot and I am low on water. As though by magic a tap appears at the entrance to a Camping and Caravan Club site, with an attached sign saying “drinking water”.  I fill up and offer up a small prayer to Saint Christopher. Apologies to whoever is the patron saint of drinking water.

Whilst following the coast is the raison-d’etre for our walking in the South Hams, it is a welcome change to walk down lanes past old milk churns, pick our way along hidden hollow ways and even admire the fields and dry-stone walls that are less obvious along the coastal ribbon.

Eventually we make it back to Soar Mill Cove as the sun sinks low towards the horizon, casting long dark shadows across the valley.  This time we do relax at the hotel, with a pint of cider each.  As the sun sets and the air rapidly cools, I pull out my crumpled shirt from my rucksack, much to the mirth of my good lady wife.  Around us the better heeled clients of the hotel sip their gin and tonics, or Chardonnays and probably cast disapproving glances in the direction of the rough looking couple on the next table. We don’t give a hang. 

Lengthening shadows at Soar Mill Cove – journey’s end and a pint of cider awaits

Today has been something of a turning point, a realisation that we have to be the masters of our own destiny. I think we are in danger of falling into the trap of trying to complete as much of the coast path as we can and as quickly as possible.

Walking the coastline is a tough task-master, especially in this area. Transport links between start and finish points are poor and have probably forced us to attempt longer walks, or to rush to make connections for buses or trains.  We risk becoming slaves to the project, instead of enjoying the whole adventure. Sometimes it is worth “standing and staring” – in the words of Alfred Wainright.

We are beginning to realise that often the better alternative is smaller circular walks. Doing this this we are able to see the countryside further away from the coast also – as we did today. This has the benefit of taking us away from the tourist honeypots and letting us experience the solitude of this unique area of the English countryside. On the walk back from Bantham today, we only passed one other couple – walking their dog – compared to over 100 on the outbound coastal section.

If solitude is what you are after it is probably better to do walks in the winter months, to avoid the tourists.  However, this throws up problems of its own.  Out of season often means poor transport connections, poor accommodation availability and inevitably less predictable weather.  Lots to think about.

Milk churns and hollow-ways encountered on our cross-country return walk. It’s not all about the coast!

Sunset and Cider!