South West Coast Path Day 13.
Distance today: 23.5 miles.
Total distance: 1333.6 miles.
Accommodation: campsite.
All my fretting over accommodation was put in perspective when I bumped into someone wild camping for the whole of the SWCP. I don’t think he was in any hurry and he currently had a spot perched high above one end of Perran Sands Beach. It seems that we multi-day hikers all like our rules and his was that he had a total daily budget of £10. He was at pains to point out he could afford more but that was his challenge. While we were chatting, a pompous sounding farmer came along, walking his dog. There then followed a you-people type conversation where the farmer accused hikers of trashing the beach and using it as a toilet. My new colleague gave as good as he got, returning the accusation that it was generally the dog walkers that didn’t clean up after their dogs had used the beach as a toilet. I think it was almost an amicable argument. By the way, Perran Sands was a beautiful, long beach. Picture perfect.
What do we want? Breakfast and a phone charge. When do we want it? When we get to the Wetherspoons in Perranporth. It was slightly longer stay than usual to give my phone a fighting chance of lasting the day. Incidentally, for anyone who received our Protect What You Love Christmas card, Perranporth was where I saw the mural.
It might be my imagination but I’m sure the sea was taking on a more of an aquamarine colour than it had up until now. From the high vantage point of the cliff tops it just looked stunning. One day I might have to take a dip.
Somewhere between Perranporth and St Agnes, the serenity of the trail was tested by the background presence of what sounded like either motorbikes or quad bikes going around a track. It was quite a distance away but one of the side effects was the kicking up of large dust clouds that carried all the way down to the trail. I was surprised that whatever it was had managed to get a license. I suspect there are more bikers than there are walkers.
I trawled the shops in Portreath to try and find something to eat. The best I could find was a pack of 4 strawberry muller rice. I ate 2 of them straight away. I suspect that is not a healthy diet. I’d walked a couple of hundred yards down the road before I realised I’d left my walking poles in the shop. My diet was clearly already affecting my brain.
My stopping point for the night was the Magor Farm Campsite, about a kilometre in land from the SWCP in Coombe. Just where I turned off from the trail, there was a lovely viewpoint and a couple were gazing out over the shimmering sea, enjoying a beer. That is not a bad way to spend a late afternoon.
With a little bit of help from 2 dog walkers who bore a striking resemblance to the Hairy Bikers, I found the campsite and it was fairly basic but in a nice location, completely surrounded by trees. I found a place to pitch and then immediately lay down, head against my backpack. It had been another long hot day. Looking around, there seemed to be a large group of people who all knew each other. Someone from the group came over and asked if I needed anything. Tea? Coffee? A cup of tea would be lovely. Later on they came back and asked if I wanted anything to eat – they could do me some cheese on toast. It was a really kind gesture which I graciously declined.
The owner came by later, driving around the site in her car, picking up pitch fees. You got the sense that there were lots of regulars and she knew everyone. I spent the rest of the evening waiting for one of the few power sockets to become free (in the laundry) and then risked leaving my power block plugged in overnight.
