Day 38. Hope Cove to Beesands

Made an early start because we knew we were in for a long day and it looked like being another hot one.
Progress was immediately halted by a Swiss couple driving a big 4x4 towing an enormous caravan that he'd somehow managed to get wedged on a bend in the tiny lane.
The driver wouldn't accept our offer of assistance and we had to look away as he manoeuvred the pristine monstrosity further into the hedge with the sound of metal being scraped and scratched.
We squeezed past and left him to it.
He may still be there.

There was a dramatic change in the scenery along the coast between Bolt Tail and Bolt Head where it changed from gentle South Devon coastline to something more like Dartmoor by the sea with huge boulders, jagged rocky outcrops and wild ponies.

Dartmoor ponies on a day trip to the coast

Highland Longhorn and Belted Galloway cattle graze here to keep the scrub under control and to scare the crap out of passing hikers.

They're only young but very inquisitive

Henry Williamson (Tarka) called this area Valhalla

It was very foreboding

The views around Bolt Head were stunning and then changed from rocky cliffs to wooded estuary as we started walking up the River to Salcombe.

Up the river to Salcombe

Salcombe must be one of the most affluent towns I have ever been to.
It was a bit Boaty McBoatface but we couldn't help ourselves from drooling over how gorgeous it was.
Words like restraint and cutbacks are probably never used at Salcombe town council meetings.

If you're impressed by material wealth then Salcombe is the place to go.

We had a meal at the Ferry Inn, where the coffee got the vote for the best yet.
Took the ferry across to Portlemouth, a place that sounds like a Harry Potter spell.

Across the river the houses were even more impressive with views across to Salcombe.

The walk along the estuary was sublime, through pleasant woodland to the headland and then back onto the rocky path to Prawle Point.

Near Gara Rock

It took a couple of hours of tough walking in hot sun to reach Prawle Point where we took advantage of the only bit of shade along the path behind the coastguard's look out hut.
Used up nearly all our food and water and then discussed that Beesands is a strange name that sounds better in a Jamaican accent.

Near Prawle Point

Looking back at Prawle Point

Near Start Point we saw a seal that looked like it was playing with a fish that was almost as big as the seal but a look through the binoculars showed it was having trouble keeping and killing it's catch.

We thought the walk from Prawle Point to Start Point might take a couple of hours but it was more than three hours.

It was disheartening to see that, according to this sign at Start Point, we had only covered seven miles in nearly four days from the 175 mile marker near Plymouth.

Late evening near Start Point

Couldn't dwell for long at the Point and came around the corner to leave Plymouth shipping area behind and move into Portland.

From Start Point we could see up the coast to Beesands where Gerry would be staying and I had booked a table at the Cricket Inn for 8.30.
I thought it would be courteous to let them know we may be running a little late only to be told that the last order for food is 8.30 and that we should hurry up if we wanted to get there before the kitchen shuts.
Great customer service.

We got there hot, sweaty and very tired.
Had a quick meal and went to find somewhere to pitch the tents under the light of the full moon.