Bude is quite different from November 2022, when every fibre in my body said, “Bail Out!” due to a robust onshore gale. The sun is shining, the lambs are bouncing about, and the rugged Bude to Hartland Quay section lies ahead. I have even managed to book into the Elmscott YHA. After winter’s hibernation, returning to the coastal trail is a joy. Passing the GCHQ communications arrays, all pointing east, the terrain changes to a succession of steep ascents and descents โ an excellent early test for my calf muscles.
I visit Hawker’s Hut and sit for a while to contemplate the journey ahead. I hope to reach The Severn Bridge in 10 days and am in the mood for some big days. My son-in-law ran the Tsunami Ultra event from Bude to Westwood Ho! (and back again) a few years ago, some 77 miles. The winner covers that distance in 13 hours! It’ll take me a couple of days to reach Bideford, even when I put in a silly 32-mile day from Elmscott to Bideford. Slow down, slow down. Another ECP, WCP thru-hiker has walked from Rochester and signed the visitor book at Ronald Duncan’s Hut (they like poetry huts on this section), saying he is mad, yet he is being followed by another madman. I sign below him. We are both going the “wrong way” on the SWCP, which has the benefit of meeting thru-hikers starting their journey to South Haven Point. I am meeting 5-10 a day, which is surprising. The coastal path is getting popular.
It is a dull walk to Braunton, but at least the sound of the first Cuckoo of the year. My new bird sound app identifies all manner of bird songs. A hedgerow of Cetti’s warblers rewards an early start, combined with a song thrush backing group, which is a pleasant aural experience. Baggy Point has dramatic views west, unfortunately of clouds laden with energy that soon makes their presence known. Several thunderclaps and a hail storm turn the southern section of Woolacombe Bay sands white for a moment. I need a steel hat, not gore-tex waterproofs, and dread to think what the experience would have been if I had not found shelter. I welcome lunch in a chippy before heading to Ilfracombe to see Verity, Damien Hirst’s allegory on Truth and Justice. I’m unsure what to make of it as I settle into the Ocean Backpackers Hostel โ a very welcome stop after a long day.
Now I enter “Exmoor-on-sea” and a beautiful coastline to Lynton, with the highest point (Great Hangman at 318m). It is exhausting yet exhilarating. Just as you catch your breath, the promise of a high-level walk is interrupted by an unexpected combe, notably Heddon’s Mouth Cleve. Lynton leads on towards Minehead โ long stretches of level woodland walking where you can lose yourself in your thoughts. The bluebells are out, and the lichen and moss display in every shade of green, suspiciously luminous at times. It is like a fairy tale land. A cafe in Porlock Weir provides the sustenance I need to climb back into the coastal cliffs along the “rugged” path alternative to Minehead. I reach the unfolding map statue at the start/end of the SWCP and feel delighted at my second completion of this 630-mile trail. I forget how wonderful this trail is, perhaps the best coastal experience in the world. In 2007 I took 37 days. 16 years later, it has taken 33.
Now the arduous climbing has gone, as I head along the gentle beach path to Watchet to meet the ECP Path Officer to talk about the Beach of Dreams mapping project and seek advice for what lies ahead. The ECP is open to Sand Bay, just north of Weston-Super-Mare, but after that, there are complicated road walks and uncertainty about path closures due to coastal defence civil works. First, I must pass Hinkley Point C, a monumental engineering project overseen by the world’s largest crane – “Big Carl”. It stands 250 metres above the construction of one nuclear reactor. I have been watching its motion for several hours, but nothing prepares you for seeing the vast industry going on to build a source of energy for 7% of the UK requirements. I have walked past my fourth licensed (have you ever heard of an unlicensed one) nuclear installation since Cromer and, by far, the largest.
It is astonishing how quickly the walk returns to nature, and I am counting warblers and buntings in the marshes that lead up to Steart Point, a Wetlands Wildlife Trust area crucial for wintering and breeding birds. The bird tower is empty, perhaps due to the strong winds that should be pushing me towards Bridgwater, were it not for the frequent change in the direction dictated by the meandering River Parrett. It is a long walk to the town, not helped by paths impressed with deep tractor treads, constantly twisting your foot. Fortunately, walking along the opposite bank the next day is easier, but it’s a long haul to Burnham-on-Sea, followed by a very long 6-mile beach walk to Brean Down. At least the sand is hard and the walking easy. It is a Saturday and the beach is busy. One school has decided to play 5-aside rugby, which is utter chaos, as they all wear “Where’s Wally” costumes! – only in eccentric Britain.
Brean Down (pronounced Bree-An I was told), gives wide views of the coastline and out towards Steep Holm, one of a few islands in the Bristol Channel. Visibility is good, and I can see the length of the beach I have just walked. The campsite is a few miles away, and full of weekend caravans and campers, who have brought every amenity. One awning has sofas and televisions and another is cutting the grass with a mower – many would put comfortable 3-bedroom houses to shame, they are so neat, tidy and well-equipped.
It rains overnight, which means pack and go in the morning after the first tent exit. I would like to reach Portishead, and the path is uncertain. I reach Sand Bay, where the ECP ends and decide to follow the advice of the trail office and catch a train to Yatton. By pure chance, The Flying Scotsman, 60103, arrives at the station as I get off! I was wondering why there were so many people on the platform. A long road into Clevedon in the dreary rain, then a muddy ramble along the coastal path north, guided by a fog horn, with a sweet clear tone every 15 seconds coming from Black Nore.
The following day has to be my worst day on the ECP (technically non-existent to Aust). The Sustrans NCN 26, 41 carries me to the Avonmouth Bridge, past acres of new cars and vans. Roads are closed for power transmission line construction, which needs to be pushed through while no one is watching, as they are closed to traffic, not pedestrians. But solid concrete blocks critical motorway underpasses, primarily to stop vandals setting torching cars (I recall the same underpass when cycling the Atlantic Coastline). It doesn’t end, the Severn Way is closed for coastal defence work from the power station, but the NCN 41 cycle route saves me. Severn Beach’s excellent Shirley’s Cafe served a great lunch to cheer me up. It’s needed as the path north of New Passage is totally no go. A quick chat with a local lady suggests it will not be open until 2026, so much for the King Charles III ECP grand opening in 2024. NCN 4 saves me until Cake Pill Goat and another closed road. So it is verge walking to Aust, facing endless trucks and vans servicing the logistics centres everywhere. This is not safe walking.
Walking across The Severn Bridge is a pleasure after all that. The underpass to Chepstow is full of graffiti artists doing the most amazing murals. It is worth a visit as it is probably the most artistic I have seen. A late train has me back home in 4hrs. Not bad for a holiday Monday. Time to rest and watch a crown being placed on a head and hear someone speaking about the joys of the KC3ECP, who probably hasn’t walked from Portishead to Aust.
Chester to Gretna next.
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