A Sketchy Day on the Trails

      I woke up this morning to the sound of wind slamming against the house and light rain being driven into the window. The B&B owner seemed a bit surprised that I was still hiking but he did mention that it had calmed down from earlier. After breakfast and paying for my room I headed out for the day. 
      Upon stepping outside I realized that although the rain had died down a bit the wind was a bit stronger than I had thought. The winds were sustained at at least 50 to 60 and then gusting to much, much higher speeds. What I can best compare my hike down to the castle is those weathermen you see out in the hurricanes (not a big hurricane but at least a category 1 or 2). The wind would stop me in my tracks and at times about push me over, but there wasn't much issue since it was coming in off the coast. Upon passing the castle two things happened: the rain picked up, and my direction changed so that the wind was pushing towards the sea (i.e. the cliffs). This was a bit unnerving to say the least. I stayed away from the edge as much as possible but there were a few spots where that wasn't an option. 
       The main problem was that I couldn't put my hands down beside me to balance myself. Most of the path is lined with these extremely sharp brier bushes (pictured right) that give you a nasty surprise when you toss your hand down to brace yourself. After a while my direction changed so as the wind wasn't pushing me off the cliffs and I was able to enjoy the hike as a bit of a challenge. 
        The weather didn't much allow me to take any pictures until I came up on the town of Boscastle. This was my half way point and I was surprised to reach it by 11:20. The weather let up right as I descended down into the town which allowed me to sit down and have lunch across from a little bridge and beside a Witch Museum (odd). The town was very quaint and had a fair amount of tourist from other parts of the UK. The inlet which led to the town was a cliff lined channel with extremely choppy seas. I can't imagine how the fishermen manage to navigate it.

         Withing the hour I was back on the trail on my way to Crackington Haven. The town was a further 7 miles down the trail and I started to really feel the distance in my legs. After about 3 miles there was a split in the trail with one path going in and out of the valleys and another optional path staying more along the cliffs. This "optional path" ended up being an extremely muddy cattle trail and well used by the looks of it. Manure was everywhere and the worst part was that on the trail you couldn't tell the difference between it and the mud. After dodging cow patties for a while I was able to get back on the regular trail. 
           Somewhere around 2.5 miles from Crackington I came to a point in which I could again go down into the valleys or turn inland until I hit a road and walk down it for a while. Looking ahead at the descent and climb on the other side, option one was no good. And given my previous experience with detours, option two wasn't looking so great either. So I decided to make an option three: cut straight across the fields and hop fences until the trail levels out. This idea worked quite well and saved me from a lot of up and down. Inevitably I entered a field which had no cows, just one bull who stood to great me when I entered. Thankfully he let me pass unharmed. 
           Just a bit further down the trail I finally reached my destination, The Coombe Barton Inn. Its nestled in beautiful little valley right at the beach. If you look at the picture to the right my inn is the big white blob right off the beach. With sore feet and weak ankles I had finally made it through the hike and was able to enjoy a nice ice cream next to the beach.