Day 8: Looe to Callington

Distance: 17.5 mile
Sore-feet: 4
This morning we bid adieu to the south coast of Cornwall and climbed north out of the valley. Then we went way down a few hundred feet into another valley, crossed a stream, and the climbed way up again. And then we did it again. And again.




And again, this time along a footpath down and up slippery rocks and mud. After 4 miles, our Garmin told us we'd climbed 1500 feet. When we got to our B&B, it read 3999 feet. I lifted it from floor to ceiling a few times so we could officially record a 4000 foot day.
Other than sore feet and tired muscles, our bodies are holding up pretty well. Dawn was most concerned about just being able to walk so far, day after day. She's been pleased with her recovery every day, and so far so good. I was most concerned about my feet. No matter what, I can't seem to wear a backpack for a week without developing grape sized blisters on my toes, and on the sides of my feet. I remember rationing out blister bandages between me and Ian on the west coast trail. Not fun. But a couple of months ago, Dawn picked up Fixing Your Feet at REI and what a difference that has made! I used the book as a springboard for some sock research, and decided my weird overlapping toe feet could benefit from a toe sock liner, to keep the toes from rubbing against each other. So I've been using a two layer approach, Injinji toe socks, and medium weight merino wool Icebreaker hiking socks.




The score so far: alv 8, Blisters nil. I'm very happy about it.
I'm less happy about my back. I made this odd decision before the trip that a three month change of pace is a good chance to change some habits and get in better shape. Of course, a normal person would figure that walking 15 miles a day is good enough. If only I was closer to normal. I decided that I should add to that a little morning regimen of stretching, leg lifts, pushups, and crunches. It turns out that going from computer programmer to army ranger is not an easy transition as you near 50. So two mornings ago, counting out pushups (103, 104, 105 - I like to start at 100) I felt my back do a little spasm and then two seconds later I'm on the ground in pain. Oops. Dawn helped me very slowly get myself together and I made it through the day. Strangely, things feel better while wearing my pack; maybe it restricts the twisting or something. Yesterday evening was not great, but this morning things felt a bit better. Our hosts offered to schlep our stuff for us, which was tempting, but I resisted the urge. I downed a bunch of Advil and out we went. And here I am now at the end of the day, with one of those hot packs wrapped around me, warming my back, and I'm feeling pretty good. Better and better. I think that in another day or two I'll be back to 100%.
I had plans for the end of each day as well. I'm carrying a set of running stuff in my pack, because from the comfort of Corvallis it seemed like it might be refreshing to run a few fast miles each day after all the slow walking miles. That one hasn't happened yet. Maybe never will. Maybe I'd be wise to just lower my goal to making it to John O'Groats.
Dawn has been a tower of power. Her feet are sore on the long days (like today). But she powers up the hills even at the end of the day. She hasn't even popped an Advil yet; she assumed she'd be eating them like candy.




At one point today, we got a little lost, or at least confused. We were looking for a path that went (naturally) way down into some woods, over a stream, and then way up again. We found the farmyard where the path was supposed to start and looked around, but couldn't find much. A twenty something guy was driving a tractor and stopped to help. He had the most incomprehensible accent I've encountered so far. I really had just no idea what he was saying; probably my words were gibberish to him as well. He got the directions across through hand waving and a few words, but it took a while. While this was going on, a couple of farm dogs were running around excited, making friends with us and having a good time.
We found the path and went on our way, starting out through the mud, heading for the woods. A half mile in, we see that we have company; a little terrier from the farm was on our heels, happy as can be that somebody was taking him out for a walk. A super cute little guy, bounding along on three legs (one right leg seemed lame), chasing invisible animals along the sides of the path, and just having a grand time. We figured that once we got a little ways from the farm, through a few gates, he'd be gone. Nope. I'd been pretty nice to him so far, but I really didn't want him lost. I glared at him. "Go home!". I waved my map menacingly and he retreated 20 feet. Two minutes later he was back, wagging his tail, happy as only a dog can be. Dawn tried. "Go home!". He didn't. We started down the big hill towards the stream, and crossed the stream over a few rocks (thankfully it was easier than our day three ford). Our friend came splashing across. Dawn did this crazy walking sticking waving dance and noise. "What are you doing?". "It worked on the sand people.". Fair enough. It didn't work on the dog. Finally, at the top of the hill, we lost him at another farm. I'm hoping he knew where he was, and is now safely at home. But even if not, he had a collar, and the farmers know each other, so I'm sure he's fine. He was really great company for a while. Sadly, my only photo is pretty sad. He looks better from the front.




A problem with today's route was the lack of provisions along the way. There were no pubs till the end of the day in Callington. Can you imagine a 17 mile walk with no pubs? Brutal. We survived the first 15 miles on the rations that Dawn's friend Julie had provided us.




The plan was to get something to eat at the end of the walk in Callington, then walk the last mile to our B&B. This plan had worked for us so far this trip, but we didn't really appreciate that most of the towns we've seen are tourist places, loaded with cafes and restaurants and pubs. Porkerris has a population of a few hundred, but if you want a roasted garlic pizza and some olives at 4pm - no problem. Callington has almost five thousand people, but it's a working town, not a tourist town, and there's nobody serving food from 3 till 6:30. We spent a half hour wandering around town, thinking we'd have to survive on Jaffa cakes and HobNobs, when we found the door ajar on a pasty shop that had just closed. It was run by a rough looking English guy and his Thai wife. He asked where we were from and we gave our stock answer: "Canada" (sorry, Corvallis). He'd been to Jasper in the 80s while in the army, so our answer was good. He had one pasty left, chicken curry, but it was cold. It retailed for three pounds fifty, and we'd have paid ten. "I'll give it ya for two quid". Once we started talking he offered to fry us some chips, "no bother, the fryer's still hot". A very entertaining guy. He and his wife are building a house in Thailand and plan to move back as soon as they can sell their pasty shop. He stayed late, made sure all of our food was hot, made sure we had enough, and charged almost nothing. People are great. We each had a half a pasty and a big plate of chips sitting on a bench outside the town's 15 century church.




It was the perfect meal, and made a nice ending to a tough, but really fine, day.




I am very excited about our next two days. Each of them involves just a short walk (under 10 miles - I hope) and will conclude at a fabulous old hotel. Tomorrow is Endsleigh, an early 19th century hunting lodge that won best rural hotel in Britain a few years ago. Then the next day is Lewtrenchard Manor, a fine old manor house converted to a hotel.

Location:Green Pastures B&B