Spring came to the coast path

The internet weather forecast had little blazing suns across the day with not a lot of wind, and that from the north. So, infected with enthusiasm, I decided to do a training walk on the south coast path. I would, I thought, repeat one that I did in 2012, from Looe westwards to Par, between 16 and 17 miles.

Viv had made arrangements that needed the car so I got up early, walked to the bus and went to Plymouth. A quick foray to Costa to get a restoring cappuchino and then a bus to Looe. I enjoyed the bus rides at least as much as the walk. Off I went, striding out of Looe up a gradual slope that led to the coast path. The sun shone, the sea was blue and there were few people around. What a prospect!

I did know that this path went up and down rather a lot and it's ups and downs that are my Achilles heel at the moment. So the pace slowed a bit but I reached Polperro in reasonable time and without being overtaken by children or old ladies with dogs though there was a rather wicked climb out of Talland (avoiding a bit of storm-damaged path) that tested my lungs.

So, on toward Polruan but not as quickly as I would have liked, and I did begin to wonder whether my memory of this walk had been a little selective - perhaps it was not the right thing to do this quite so early in my training regime. My target was Lansallos beach where I intended to eat my sandwiches but I was late arriving and beginning to wonder if I would get to Par in time to get the train back to Plymouth.

Lansallos beach is a special place for it was there, in 1968, that we scattered my mother's ashes into the sea at a place that she loved. In other circumstances I think it vey likely that, when they retired, my parents would have moved to Cornwall but, in the event, it was to be 30 years later that my father did so. As I ate my sandwiches the sun blazed down and the sea pounded in and it was all very special.

Then onwards and down to Polruan where the ferry obligingly arrived just as I did. The climb out of Fowey is rather trying if your legs are tired and I tried to work out how fast I would have to walk in order to get that train and it looked impossible. So I walked out of the town and saw a bus stop and hung about for the bus. Only a couple of miles but it should have made a huge difference. But the driver, unlike the gung-ho characters in our part of Cornwall, was extremely cautious - perhaps he had been told it was a new bus and he'd better not dent it. I arrived at Par station just as the train started off.

By that time it was dusk and the temperature had dropped to freezing or less. Par station has waiting rooms on both platforms and toilets and all were locked! I was furious and spent the next half hour shivering on a bench and composing a strident letter to First's GWR that I will almost certainly never write.

Another cappuchino on Plymouth station (better than freezing at the bus stop) and then a smooth ride back to Stoke Climsland and a march along the lane in brilliant moonlight and stars in a crystal clear sky. It was a good day (though a lot of bus and train riding) and my legs are back to normal this morning.