Yes, it really is 11pm on New Year’s Eve and I’m really (almost) sober. However, all is not lost – we’ve retreated to mum and dad’s cottage in Cornwall and I’m currently sat by the fire (which we’ve had to let go out because we overdid the fire lighters and fumigated ourselves…oops!) with a glass of wine and a huge bucket of Maltersers (sorry, Darren), waiting for Jools Holland to start. How old do I sound? To be honest I couldn’t think of a better way to spend it as I’ve never been New Year’s biggest fan. I’d also say that I can’t think of a better person to spend it with, but you’d all think it was the wine talking. Tis true though (that Andy is lovely, not that I’ve had too much wine).
It’s not all wine and Maltesers though, but it has been wet and wild! We arrived in Cornwall on Friday night, at the same time as the rain and 80mph gales. Saturday we made our traditional pilgrimage to Polzeath, but upon finding the Galleon (Cornwall’s greatest bacon and sausage sandwich stop) closed, we made a hasty retreat to Perranporth where we sat and watched the enormous waves for a bit before we decided that the time had come – it was time to see if my Berghaus deluge waterproof trousers – bought new for the Trail trip in November – really were worthy of the term waterproof. And, oh boy, they were!
On Perranporth before the rain.
We made it halfway across the beach before the heavens opened and the wind really whipped up. The foam was coming off the sea and hitting us in big white chunks, that really stung! Conversation and actually looking at eachother was impossible.
We got to the end of the beach and considered a cliff top walk but common sense prevailed when we got up there and couldn’t actually stand up! I did discover that, although I love my Berghaus Aquafoil jacket because it’s perfectly waterproof, windproof and packs down to nothing in my backpack, the hood is sadly lacking. Andy’s Paramo has more of a face covering for when the wind gets up, and his hood also has a peak. I didn’t have any of those and I had wind burn by the time we got back to the car! More reasons to splurge on the North Face Odyssey, I think!
Today was a triumph of more than 15,000 steps, although I think I hated 99% of each wet, windy and sand infested step. If you thought walking up hills in the lake district was hard, try walking up sand dunes!
We started at West Pentire near Crantock and walked from there, across to Polly Joke, Holywell and back round the cliffs. It was only four miles (and easy according to the book – pah!) but easily the most difficult walk I’ve done in a long time. The wind was just so strong, and walking on sand dunes required so much more effort. I was also very scared up on the cliff tops – luckily the wind was blowing inwards from the sea, because at times it was blowing your feet out from under you. When we got home we discovered that a man had been blown off rocks at Padstow and had to be rescued by the air ambulance – just a small indication of precisely how strong those winds were.
Being held up by the wind!
If I said I had enjoyed the walk and that I’m full of the joys of walking, it would probably be the biggest lie I’ve told in a long time. Despite all the extra steps, exercises and taking tiny steps (much to Andy’s amusement and frustration), I still ran out of steam on the hills and found it extremely hard going in places. I have a long way to go… but special mention here to Sian who climbed Pen y Fan over Christmas. I’m very proud and secretly quite envious of the way she just gets up and does stuff and doesn’t worry about what happens if she can’t do it. I think it’s called gumption, or simply, balls.
One thing that did worry me is that, despite not carrying a backpack, my lower back seized up with about half a mile to go today. I know it’s down to excess weight, but I wonder if there is anything I can do to strengthen it?
Two bizarre things happened on our walk today. The first, right at the start, was the arrival of a procession of antique tractors over the dunes and down through Trago Mill (the actual mill on our walk, not the Cornish superstore). They looked like they might be on some kind of annual new year rally or something, but it was extremely surreal to see them appearing out of the mists and driving down past us, each one giving us a wave as they passed. I don’t know who thought who was more odd – us for walking in such awful weather or them for just being randomly in the sand dunes in their Massey Fergusons!
The second was the fact that there was a herd of cows on the beach at Polly Joke – the last place you’d expect to find forty cows! (Were they on holiday, or does the farmer always put them there?) As documented elsewhere in this blog, I’m not a fan of cows, and there was one particularly large one sitting a bit too close to the path for my liking. It hadn’t escaped my notice that I was wearing a bright red waterproof, but thankfully when the cow stood up it was clear it was not a bull. I still used up a bit too much energy running from the path to the gate, just in case!
Very pleased to see that the car hadn’t blown away when we got back, and (once I’d mastered the art of pulling off waterproof trousers), the heated seats in Andy’s new car were much appreciated!
Anyway, Andy has just poured me another glass, and the new year beckons!
