July 19: Dolphins

I’m glad I had that little pep-talk with myself a few days ago, because I snapped out of my funk and tried to go back to appreciating just what was in front of me.  I tried to stop focusing on how sweaty I was and just immersing myself again in nature, like I had been doing in Scotland and Wales and somehow lost along the way in England.  The simplicity of just putting one foot in front of the other, taking a breath and looking around, is so relaxing, so gratifying, incredible how little you physically need in order to be in awe of the world.

I decided I needed to get back to what I loved, and I decided to wild camp.  It took a little planning, since the day was sweltering, and I had to wash off my layers of sunscreen the best I could in a pub restroom, and then filled up all my water containers, since the biggest roadblock to wild camping has been lack of water and feeling disgusting after a hot day.  I waited for the sun to cool in Portreath, and then started hiking again, and before too long found an acceptable spot on the cliffs with room for a tent.

The sunrise woke me early and I was just about to eat breakfast when Nature rewarded me for wild camping.  Past me swam a pod of dolphins, jumping out of the water, swimming off towards the rising sun.  I was so surprised I both laughed and cried.  It feels good again, to be out here.

Walking over the dunes

Long hot stretch of beach…

good morning

joining me for lunch

got the campsite picked out

it was a day of beautiful heathered cliffs

July 13: On the Cornish Coast

Here in Cornwall!  What a beautiful walk this has been.  The scenery is mile after mile of stunning cliffs and coves and rock formations.  I’ve seen a fox, a peregrine falcon, and a deer who barked at me.  The sea is a shimmering blue, but this beauty doesn’t come cheap.  Every day is a grinding up and down clifftops.  Everyone I meet likes to tell me, “Oh, the next part is the hardest.”  I try to tell them that every day is difficult, but they are always certain that no, this next bit is the hardest.  It really is very similar: up, down, up, down, dramatic view.

I know I have blabbed on and on and on about the heat, but it’s really making things difficult.  Yesterday, a 16 mile day, was spendidly beautiful and remote.  I saw only a handful of people until the more accessible beaches at the end of the day.  A walker’s dream, except there isn’t any access to water.  Around mile 13 I was feeling faint and pretty worried, but luckily there was a long-awaited refreshment stand where I gulped a liter of iced tea.  Even then, when I finally found a campsite and a grocery store, I was completely beat, and felt it the next morning.

It’s interesting what has happened to my feet.  They generally hurt, which you can probably understand, but in the morning they have a way of seizing up over night, so as I stumple out of my tent in the morning towards the bathroom, I feel like a newborn deer learning how to walk, and stumble in the early dawn to the toilets, limping and moaning much like a zombie hungering for brains.

But, what a beautiful part of the world.  So, it’s worth it.  Here are photos!

July 9: It’s Hot. Let’s Take a Day Off, Shall We?

I’m not really one for hot weather.  As I may have mentioned before, I become absolutely depressed and miserable when two things happen: 1.) Lack of sleep, and 2.) when it’s hot.  I don’t know how some people manage to keep their heads and power on when they haven’t slept for 24 hours.  I can’t do it.  I’d miss my own wedding to take a nap if I was tired enough.

And for when it’s hot.  I also think all of you people who prefer the searing heat of say, Phoenix, to a temperate, if rainy, day in Portland.  Oh, but it’s a dry heat you say?  Who cares!  It’s in the desert!  It’s hot.  Throw in some humidity and I’m toast.  Soggy toast.  I will never get anything done in the heat.  You can see how my summers in South Korea were a bit depressing, when it’s 90 degrees and the only respite is the beach, but then OH HERE COMES A MONSOON!

So walking in the heat, with layers of sunscreen upon sweat upon sunscreen, is like a slow, slimy death for me.  Out here on the cliffs of Devon there isn’t much tree cover, and my 40 pound pack suddenly becomes the chains binding me to a hot and sweaty death.

Add to this that everything I own smells, because (and you might find this a bit disgusting) my clothes have had only one proper wash in more than five weeks, and you get the idea I’m stuck in a sweaty, smelly cycle of being hot and dirty only to shower off and start it all over again.

Alright, I’m really not that miserable.  I just wanted to paint the picture about how being sweaty, slimy, and smelly can get to you after a little while.  Which is WHY!!!

DAY OFF!!! WHOOOO!!!

I wouldn’t have chosen Westward Ho! as a place to spend a day off, but the YHA is on the hill above the pesky tourists, with a deck and a view of the ocean.  And you read that correctly:  Westward Ho! is spelled with a !.

Now all of my clothes are clean!  Ta-dah!  Westward Ho!  I sponged down my backpack, and aired out my sleeping bag, and washed everything I own, and though maybe it’s all scruffy around the edges, I’m no longer the person people avoid standing next to because of that strange smell wafting of her.

You see what I’m saying about backpacking?  It makes the simplest things a cause for celebration.

For instance, I haven’t had very much access to internet, which I in fact enjoy a lot, but last night Rachel and I were online AT THE SAME TIME!  Which hasn’t happened since we parted ways a month ago, so it was a surreal feeling, and renewed my love for internet.  Rachel is arriving in Santiago de Compostela TODAY, at the end of her long Camino, and she has far surpassed me in miles, has survived a heat wave in Spain, almost died of thirst, walked through a FLOOD, and hasn’t injured herself or even had a rest day.  So dear reader, please say out loud to yourself, Congratulations Rachel!

So enough writing already.  It’s my rest day, and War and Peace awaits.