Follow our Chairman Martin Cubbon on his journey around the South West Coast Path, Britain’s longest defined pathway. Martin has been training for three months and aims to walk approximately 20 miles (32km) a day to raise money for ISF and help us build an English Language Centre. Help Martin reach his target by donating here and read his blog below.

Day 26: Time Out 

Three days’ rest and a couple of physio sessions have done little to alleviate my shin splints, and I have been advised to get an X-ray/MRI as soon as possible. Accordingly, I am heading home tomorrow morning. Not what I hoped for but much worse happens at sea, as they say. Thank you very much to all those who have donated (to whom I will write and thank separately) and particular thanks to my support team of wife, brother Roy, nephew Elliot and friend Vicky. It’s a stunning hike and for those with the time and more robust exoskeleton, I very strongly recommend it. For the record, I covered 395 miles (635 kilometres) of the South West Coast Path, ascended just short of 32,000 yards (29,000 metres) and consumed 19 cream teas.

Day 23: Shin Splints

Salcombe to Slapton Sands. The wind has dropped but it’s a grisly day: rain and mist and the ever-present sound of a foghorn. I get to East Portlemouth via lift on a rib across the sea from my mate Paul Markland. An uphill start to the South West Coast Path soon flattens along the cliff to Prawle Point. It then undulates through East Prawle, Maelcombe and Lannacombe Beach. There is then a steep ascent to Start Point before a relatively easy stretch taking in Hallsands and Tinsey Head. I reach Slapton Sands after a very muddy ascent and decent.

My shin splints have got worse after five hours hiking and the physio I see tells me to stop all sport for two days, take treatment and hope I can start again on Thursday. Quel domage, as they say, but fingers crossed that it’s only two days.

Day 22: Kite Surfing 

Bigbury-on-Sea to Salcombe. ‘Storm Brian’ sounds innocuous enough, but 300 feet up a cliff it provides the occasional exciting moment. For the first time, it feels like autumn. Check the day’s photographs, but I am wearing four layers, a hat and a buff and I’m still cold. Usefully, the start of the South West Coast Path has me marching up Bolt Head, so I soon get warm and then take in fab views as far away as Plymouth.

I pass by Soar Mill Cove and reach a bustling Hope Cove (it’s half term). I’m tempted to stop for coffee but press on to Thurlestone where I spend 15 minutes watching three kite surfers blast up and down the beach. Very cool. I wonder whether I should take this up. Why not? Oh yeah, I know why not: you need skill, strength, athleticism and large cojones. I reach Bantham and then turn round and walk back to South Milton for a late lunch with bro and a local mate (Andy). Shin still hurting but I bravely plan to press on. What a hero, I hear you say.

Day 21: Pulled Up Lame 

Gorran Haven to Mavagissey. Forgive the cliché but the early morning in Falmouth really is the calm before the storm. A clear sky, still water, an eerie quiet. This is about to change. By the time we reach Gorran Haven, the wind has got up big time. Shop signs are being blown over, shutters pulled down, the news warns of gale force 11 winds and flooding in low-lying areas. Better get going then as it’s only going to get worse during the day.

The first couple of miles of the South West Coast Path are pleasant enough, but as I descend into Chapel Cove I develop a sharp pain in my right shin. By the time I reach Mavagissey, around two miles later, it is very painful. In a rare outbreak of common sense, I decide to stop and hope rest will sort the problem out overnight.

Day 20: Distances Can Be Deceiving

Porthscatho to Gorran Haven. A bright, mild day that starts with a ferry journey across the Fal River. The crossing point is far up the estuary, so it is quite a shock to see four 30,000 tonne bulkers moored in the middle of the river. An apt comment on the state of the shipping market, no doubt. Porthscatho is a very smart little village, with all the essential ingredients of quality village life: butchers, cake shop, post office, café and, of course, a pub. The path undulates around small coves and beaches, Pendower and Carne, until I reach Nare Head after a long slog up from latter beach.

I meet bro and we have a very pleasant if muddy downhill amble into Portloe and a coffee (amazingly, there is no cake, scone or similar available) in The Lugger boutique hotel right on the harbour wall. I press on for Mavagissey, which on the map doesn’t look far off. Three hours later, I arrive in Gorran Haven covered in mud after a few tumbles and still three miles short of Mavagissey. I sensibly decide eating the cakes my brother has bought are more appealing than another three miles on the path, so I call it a day.

Day 19: Falmouth

Helford to Falmouth. Easiest leg of the South West Coast Path so far: 11 miles and 700 yards of ascent. It’s just as well because heavy rain and high winds are forecast for the afternoon. Although the early morning light shows the Helford River at its best, there is not a lot to see other than river and fields, at least until you reach Maenporth and Gyllyngvase Beach.

We reach Falmouth high street at 11.40, perfect timing for a hot steak and ale pasty at Oggy Oggy (one of 419 shops in Cornwall claiming to serve the county’s finest pasty). We then walk to our rented accommodation on North Parade. This is a Georgian terraced house overlooking the Fal River. Very fine indeed. Falmouth is a splendid little town: interesting harbour and docks, a high street blissfully free of the usual fodder, excellent pubs and restaurants, and a very friendly rugby club where they are celebrating the life of the great England prop Stack Stevens when we arrive mid-afternoon for a beer. My kind of place. Oh, and my nephew tells me the girls are pretty.

Day 18: Half Way

The Lizard to Porthallow. I still haven’t worked out why it’s called The Lizard. Maybe it’s something to do with the locals’ complexion. I guess so much wind does that to you. The South West Coast Path undulates in and out of little coves – House Bay, Bass Point, Cadwith, the latter a thatched roof theme park. We reach Kennack Sands in time for coffee on the beach. I was hoping for a piece of home-made carrot cake or similar, but their sticky buns are all wrapped in cellophane; a very bad sign. We press on, climbing Eastern Cliff to be rewarded with fabulous views back toward Lizard Point. We meet my brother at Black Point, where there is a former coastguard station now used as a shelter.

It’s noticeable that there are a lot of ships about, presumably coming out of safe anchorage after Monday’s storms. We descend into Coverack, a delightful spot with one of the smallest harbours I have ever seen. We take seats outside Alfie’s Loft, which overlooks said harbour, and order haddock chowders and slices of raspberry almond frangipane cake. “Man is the food good here,” my brother comments. It is, but you need to understand that we were brought up in Blackpool, so expectations of seaside fare are low.

The second half of the walk to Porthallow is pretty boring: muddy tracks in the woods followed by a major diversion around St Keverne, mainly on roads. We arrive in Porthallow and a rendezvous with a beer at the Five Pilchards, only to find it had shut five minutes earlier.

Day 17: The Lizard

Praa Sands to The Lizard. Overcast start and we are soon into deserted mines territory and oh such fond memories of Yorkshire. This stretch of the South West Coast Path to Porthleven has a number of poignant reminders (pictured on the left) of the many mariners who have died off this particular coast. We arrive in Porthleven at 10am and immediately take to the place. Another of Rick Stein’s seafood gaffs, working fishing boats and a great roadside café run by an eco-warrior who makes a first-rate café au lait before lecturing us on the wasteful nature of our kit, viz. synthetic fibres, prolific use of single-use plastic bottles, cling film-wrapped sandwiches and so on. We are walking Chernobyls as far as he is concerned.

Not deterred at such a dressing down, we press on to the Guy Gibson Memorial, Wesleyan chapel, harbour and art galleries. This place punches way above its weight. Feeling uplifted, we power on to Mullion Cove where we meet chief support and brother Roy. He has prepared a picnic. This consists principally of pasties and cakes. No complaints. Great walk to The Lizard, which surprisingly is across desolate moorland, also like Yorkshire. Other than rocks, not a lot to see, so we head back to Falmouth and dinner at another of Rick Stein’s fine establishments.

Day 16: Ophelia 

Porthcurno to Praa Sands. I have stealthily avoided all the typhoons hitting Hong Kong this season, so it’s only fair that Typhoon Ophelia finally catches up with me in West Cornwall. The wind is gale force bonkers on the Beaufort scale. It is relentless and awesomely beautiful. My chief engineer nephew tells me he has never seen seas this big off the British coast. Other than the magnificent coastline and raging seas, there is not much to see on this section of the South West Coast Path. This is just as well. With winds gusting at 80mph, you need to concentrate on where you are putting your feet lest you slip and find yourself paragliding up the Irish Sea.

The first habitation we come to is Mousehole, where I chance upon a shop specialising in Celtic jewellery. I pop in and buy a round pendant with hieroglyphics on it, probably announcing that the owner of said pendant is a sad wannabe warrior type. Mm, spot on, you might say. Next stop is Newlyn, where we meet brother Roy and feast on mackerel salad and sour cherry cake (better than it sounds, trust me). It’s then on to Maurizon, the closest point to St Michaels Mount. It’s now indescribably windy, so after a couple of shots we move on to a beach and get an eye-level view of the speed and size of the waves. We finally reach Praa Sands and call it a day – a tough but unforgettable one.

Day 15: Adders

Perranporth to Newquay. The observant amongst you will have noticed that I appear to be going backwards. Yes, this is the stage of the South West Coast Path we leapfrogged on Wednesday. Day 15 is move day (Newquay to Falmouth via Exeter to watch a rugby match), so we wanted a short stage on Saturday, walking back to Newquay. It’s barely light when I start, but Perran beach with the tide out is busy with dog walkers. I get mobbed by Labradors, Jack Russells and spaniels and almost eaten by a Rottweiler (thankfully, the owner flicks a switch from kill to lick mode in the nick of time). It’s an exhilarating couple of miles across the beach in the early morning, and I make good time. Next stop is Holywell beach, which backs up to Sandhills.

As I walk into the hills, I’m slightly alarmed by the large signs with illustrations warning of the presence of adders. As I read the instructions on what to do if bitten, a bloke (with a dog) comes past and says, “Oh, ignore that, it’s just to deter the nudists from lounging around.” Or more likely the voyeurs. I press on to Porth Joke (yes, look it up). As I am behind schedule, I take the opportunity to take a shortcut. This involves descending down some rocks, running across the beach and clambering up some other rocks and back onto the hilltop path. I do this with the stealth of the Black Magic Man. Unfortunately, me with beard and wild hair (think Castaway) rising from the cliffs comes as something of a surprise to the lady walking her dog who mildly freaks out and hurls a few choice expletives in my general direction. Fair cop, I suppose.

Day 14: Dog Whisperer

Pendeen Watch to Porthcurno. Pendeen Watch even spookier on a wild and overcast morning, so we positively sprint out of the village, past yet more disused mine workings and slag heaps. We make good progress past Kenidjack Castle (an Iron Age fort) and on to Cape Cornwall. The village distinguishes itself with a needle-like chimney on its peninsula and a nine-hole golf course on the side of a 35-degree slope where you either hit into a 50mph wind or have it behind you. We chat to a member, who tells us he has only broken 100 once in 30 years of membership.

The wind suddenly drops and the sun comes out as we wander on to Sennen Cove beach. Yet another gem, replete with a couple of dozen surfers paddling into the surf. It has a couple of tempting tea shops, but we are within striking distance of Land’s End and a rendezvous with a beer. As expected, Land’s End is as naff as you could have imagined. Lots of unhealthy-looking people stuffing themselves with Mr Kipling Bakewell slices whilst thronging to the high temple of naffdom, ‘the heritage centre’. They even charge you ten pounds to have a picture with the infamous sign post. “I’m out of here,” my nephew declares after downing his beer with a lot of ancillary belching.

The weather has turned moody again as for the first time in two weeks we head east on the South West Coast Path onto open moorland. After walking for 30 minutes we are overtaken by a handsome brown and white spaniel with collar but no owner anywhere to be seen. My ever-resourceful nephew whistles to the dog who comes to heel and then he magically produces a lead out of some old bootlaces, lassos the beast and we proceed to Porthcurno with the aim of handing the dog over to the coast guard or similar. Blow me, when we walk into the café in Porthgwarra, the owner says, “Oh, I see you’ve got Bruce.” Bruce is the local farm dog who roams the area looking for hapless walkers to adopt. He doesn’t normally find one with a lead though. We duly release him and check into the Minack Theatre coffee shop for an ice cream.

Day 13: To the Lighthouse

Godrevy Lighthouse to Pendeen Watch. After gloomy mines and weather yesterday, today the weather is stunning. We make an early start across the beach at Hayle’s (2 miles of it) and through the very attractive town of St Ives. It’s only 10am, so we decide to do another stage of the South West Coast Path to Pendeen Watch. The guide book says this is one of the toughest sections and sure enough, it’s muddy, there is a lot of up and down and clambering over rocks, but it doesn’t matter because the weather and vista are both epic.

It’s very comforting to learn that my 60-year-old bones are shaping up better than my running shoes, which fell apart today. I knew I should have selected the Dunlop green flash used to great effect by my running hero Alf Tupper (he of the track). Pendeen Watch is a spooky place: more disused mines, slag heaps, houses from Hovis adverts and no people other than those thronging to the lighthouse, possibly the local’s High Temple. Either way, we get out fast and head for Padstow, where we have another date with Rick Stein’s food.

Day 12: Dark Satanic Mills 

Perranporth to Godrevy Point. It’s blowing a gale again today and the weather is gloomy. This sets an appropriate mood to a landscape of disused tin mines, slag heaps, chimneys etc. Reminds me of Yorkshire. We make speedy progress through the gloom, and although tempted by a cream tea in The Driftwood Spars hotel in St Agnes, we press on to Chapel Porth and Porthtowan. Both are eminently forgettable.

The next three miles of the South West Coast Path have us circumnavigate a top-secret Ministry of Defence (MOD) facility on Nanceduke Common. A thorough look-see at the facility would suggest the MOD is developing weapons-grade cabbages because that’s all we can see for acres and acres. We power into Portreath and decide we have enough energy to carry on to Godrevy Lighthouse, an easy but magnificent four-mile stretch of clifftop walking. We call it a day and repair to the Victory Pub just outside Portreath and enjoy a late lunch of lamb stew provided by a barmaid straight from Central Casting, an absolute diamond.

Day 11: Reality Check

Trevone to Newquay. Just when I am beginning to feel rather pleased with my efforts thus far, I meet someone who reminds me how humdrum they really are. Caroline Rutley-Frayne is on her penultimate stage of the South West Coast Path, having taken on various sections over a number of months. You might take this as unremarkable until you note she has a prosthetic arm and leg! She had been a victim of a dangerous driver who collided with her motorcycle. She now volunteers for hospitals and schools, and when she can raises money for charity. Respect.

The morning’s walk is a delight, with the views from Trevose Head west a particular highlight. Next stop Porthcothan. It is closed for the day just when I felt a cream tea coming on, so we power on to another seaside gem, Mawgan Porth. Here we find a café run by two Spanish ladies serving that international favourite, carrot cake. It is all we need to canter into Newquay along various beaches, Tregurrian, Watergate Bay and Lusty Glaze to name but a few.

Day 10: Weathered 

Port Isaac to Trevone. You’re thinking this is going to be a feature on my face. Sorry to disappoint, but I was thinking how this section of coastline shows with graphic effect what constant wind and mountainous seas can do to hard rock. I like Port Isaac with its fish market, twee houses, lovely little harbor and some cracking pubs. What’s not to like? Okay, the Royal Shakespeare Company has never toured here, but for a village of 11 people it has got a lot going on. The first 1.5 miles has about 1,200 feet of ascent. It’s like being chained to a StairMaster – a seriously good workout. It definitely brings colour to my nephew’s cheeks. He also informs me he is 235lbs, not the paltry 220lbs I accused him of yesterday.

First stop on the South West Coast Path today is Port Quin, another attractive village, although we don’t actually stop as there are no cafés and we are both hungry. Port Quin to Polzeath is a beautiful cliff-top walk, muddy but not undulating. Polzeath has a magnificent beach and it is tempting to stop and have a beer. But having been met by my brother with a car, we decide not to wait for the ferry and drive around the Camel Estuary to Padstow, where we march into one of chef Rick Stein’s gaff’s (St Petroc’s Bistro) and have a quite brilliant lunch (mine’s a bourride of hake, plaice and mussels). After such a fine meal and bottle of Chablis, the walk around the peninsula (Stepper Point) is dreamy with yet more stunning views of Rock and Polzeath.

Day 9: Conversation

Boscastle to Port Isaac. After yesterday’s gales, day 9 starts with some glorious weather and a new innovation: a hiking buddy in the form of my nephew Elliot. This means I need to cut out the eccentricities in my behaviour, lest my nephew shops me to the wife, who unfortunately has returned to Hong Kong to – would you believe? – go back to work.

Departing from Boscastle, it’s hard to see how this was once a thriving port, given how narrow and treacherous the approach. The coastline around the town is scarred with the remains of former mine works, deep shafts, unusual fissures in the rock and small mountains of scree. Add tin mining to the list of jobs you don’t ever want to do. Although this stage of the South West Coast Path is only 14 miles, it has over 4,000 feet of ascent, achieved by endless descents into small inlets – Bossiney, Tintagel, Trebarwith Strand etc. – followed by a steep ascent out. This provides a decent workout particularly for my 220lb flank forward nephew, who is beginning to wonder what he has let himself in for.

Halfway through the walk, we observe once again the phenomenon of surfers running barefoot with board under arm toward the sea. I’ve only ever seen them run with a surfboard, never walk. Check it out for yourself.

Day 8: Surf Dudes

Bude to Boscastle. After yesterday’s Indian summer, today is wet and wild. But like someone said, “There is no bad weather, just bad clothing.” So, equipped with the best in outdoor kit modern technology can offer, I head out. Of course, a force 5 gale and driving rain is meat and drink to surfers, and sure enough there is a gaggle of folks (collective here to encompass girls) paddling through the surf to get their daily high. I enjoy Bude. It has not faded in the same way Minehead, Ilfracombe and others have. It has a community, epitomised by surfers who take every opportunity to get out and do what they love. The walk along the South West Coast Path to Widmouth is exhilarating. The wind is driving into my face, the sea is a torrent and I love it.

Not much happening in Widmouth, so I press on to Millook and the steepest descent from a cliff top I have come across. Thankfully, the wind is blowing me into the path otherwise this would have been scary rather than merely exciting. I like the look of Millook the moment I spot this 14-year-old kid running 100 metres up the beach to dive into the surf and start a spellbinding performance riding the waves. There is something vaguely hypnotic about this sport. After the show, I press on to Crackington Haven and the excellent Combe Barton Inn where I resist an Armagnac in favour of coffee. The rest of the day is uneventful until I reach Boscastle and with it the farm shop and café. Soup followed by banoffee pie is unadulterated bliss.

Day 7: Trail Mix

Hartland Quay to Bude. A bright start to the day, when we come within 15 metres of a doe and her fawn crossing the road in front of us en route to Hartland Quay. This stage of the South West Coast Path is one of the toughest according to the definitive guide, which in my view is Paddy Dillon’s. It’s certainly spectacular: cliffs, valleys, waterfalls at every turn. This section is also the most populous, with many other walkers crossing paths and all happy to stop and talk and crack a joke.

On the descent to Welcombe Mouth, there is a hermitage, always open, today with chocolate on offer along with water and a visitor’s book full of poetry. This raises the bar a little in terms of what to write. I am tempted to pen a well-known rugby song – one of the few sonnets I know by heart – but think better of it. The hermitage was built in the ’30s by the writer Ronald Duncan, who used it for writing free of distraction.

A mile or two on, I come across GCHQ’s (the UK government’s communications headquarters) farm in the country. Oddly enough, a field full of dishes pointing up at space no longer looks out of place in a countryside strewn with windmills. The remainder of the journey is a gentle downhill slide into Bude, where I meet my wife at the beach café and down a very welcome ‘Ozzie cold beer’.

Day 6: The Proclaimers

Westwood Ho! to Titchbury. “And I would walk 500 miles.” Driving to the start this morning, The Proclaimers’ famous song comes on the radio. Is this a sign? The omens looked good as, indeed, I have 500 miles to go. Another day in the woods – the muddy woods, so it’s slow going. Other than a well-preserved lime kiln and flocks of young pheasants throughout, there isn’t much to report until Clovelly, a picture-perfect village owned and maintained by the Rouse family. The benefits of single ownership are evident: a stark absence of all things naff. Every building appropriate in its setting, little changed for 400 years. Interesting that the majority of the visitors are Dutch and German, chatty and full of good humour. God only knows what they think of the Fawltyesque waitress in the pub! After a welcome beer with Mrs C, I head on for Hartland Point. The terrain along this section of the South West Coast Path changes from woods to the drama of sweeping cliffs and steep descents into valleys and ascents out.

Day 5: A Tale of Two Estuaries

Braunton to Westward Ho! The longest day so far, 70% of which is spent walking disused railway lines along two estuaries, the Taw and the Torridge. There is a definite military feel to the hike. First there is RMB Chivenor. Even if you didn’t know this was a Royal Marines Base, the people you meet along the way (running, mainly) look different. They have lantern jaws, deep voices, greet you forcefully with a resounding “good morning” – and that’s just the women. Pressing on to the Torridge Estuary, I am beginning to feel peckish when I happen across an innovative use of a former signal box; it has been converted in to a café. A cracking Americano matched with a date slice makes my morning. Beat that, you Italians.

Moving on I come across an unusual jetty, the entrance to which is covered in razor wire and tied up are a pair of black speedy-looking ribs and a black landing craft. Whoever operates these craft does not want to be seen. I meet Mrs C in Bideford and we both walk to Appledore, a top place with much good going on, mainly in the area of cream cake production. Day 5 on the South West Coast Path ends in Westward Ho! Like the author Charles Kingsley – whose novel gave the village its name – I am less than impressed so we head home. Speaking of home, I should give a plug to The Kings Arms in Georgeham. Everything you want in a pub: decent beer, atmosphere, great food in the restaurant and to cap it all, they donated 20 pounds to ISF.

Day 4: Surf’s Up

Ilfracombe to Croyde. Stunning weather, if blustery at first. Soon exit the town, climbing up a narrow path on the edge of a cliff. Eventually, the path moves away from the coast into undulating parkland. Three miles in I reach the eerie village of Lee. Great setting with some stylish houses, but worryingly devoid of people. Maybe I am just missing Hong Kong?

Most of the rest of the hike is spent hugging the coastline with fab views throughout, in particular out to Lundy Island, Bull Point Lighthouse and Morte Point. At the end of the peninsula, I make an abrupt left turn and begin a descent into Woolacombe Sands.

This is a magnificent beach, dare I say even better than the offering in my hometown, Blackpool. To add drama, there are surfers out a mile to sea catching waves. Got to admit these are cool dudes; my travelling companions emphatically agree. I deviate from the South West Coast Path here to walk the length of the beach to get a better glimpse of the surfers. Rejoining the path at Putsborough, there is then a three-mile hike around Baggy Point peninsula, which together with Morte Point peninsula frames Woolacombe Sands. The day ends with a gentle descent into Croyde and another crab salad. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Day 3: Epic

Lynmouth to Ilfracombe. This route shows off the South West Coast Path in all its glory: 16 miles, 4,700 feet of ascent, England’s highest cliffs, the highest point on the path and some spectacular seascapes looking out toward the Western approaches and the Atlantic. Oh, and just to give you a reality check that this is England in October, the wind is gusting at 50mph. Many highlights today, including the descent into Parracombe, the view down the valley at Heddon’s Mouth and the view out to sea throughout.

On arrival in Ilfracombe, we search for treats and decide upon the Swiss Café. Although it has a Swiss flag in the window, the waitress looks alarmed when I ask for a fondue, mistakenly believing I am making a pass at her. We settle for warm brownies and clotted cream, to her obvious relief.

Day 2: A Walk in the Woods

Porlock Weir to Lynton. The day starts as it means to go on: steady climb up a muddy path followed by a Cresta Run slide down the other side, all in a light drizzle. Welcome home,

Martin. Surprisingly for a trail called the South West Coast Path, much of today is spent in woods. There is no shortage of interesting sites, however, starting with Culbone, England’s smallest parish church, which dates from the 12th century, followed by the Sister’s Fountain. Supposedly Joseph of Arimathea drank there on a pilgrimage. I then cross a stream marking the Somerset-Devon county boundary. So, one county down and three to go.

Day 1: Already Lost

After a blissful night’s sleep, we arrive 10 mins early at Heathrow, care of CX 255. Pick up car and proceed speedily westwards in the joyous company of mesdames Crawford and Cubbon.

Making good time up M4 when out of nowhere motorway ends at junction 17. Cue three-hour detour through bandit country a.k.a. Wiltshire. Get stopped by bandits but mention Olly Stratton’s name and are swiftly waved on with much doffing of hats and tugging of forelocks. Eventually arrive in Minehead, raring to go. I change on the promenade to much acclaim and prove once and for all that I am jailbait for grannies.

At last I set off in a mild canter before slowing at the first slope as I leave the promenade and hit the South West Coast Path proper. After a mile, I inexplicably leave the path early and proceed up a rough track which quickly is blocked by a fallen tree. I clamber over and continue only to find another fallen tree, which makes the path impenetrable. I navigate around the obstacle but have lost the path.

I walk up and down the slope like a demented meerkat before eventually plunging into waist-deep gorse, nettles and ferns. It takes 20 minutes to wade through this but eventually I find the path. Annoyingly, my legs look like they have been keelhauled. Press on over easy moorland before hooking up with the girls at the temple of cream teas, Kitnors Tea Room. A clotted cream and jam scone is life enhancing, and I quickly forget the keelhauling. I proceed to Porlock Weir along the beach to meet the girls again at the harbour front and the first day is over.