The exclamation mark is genuinely part of the name Westward Ho! 

About half of this walk was through wooded areas, where we could hear the sea but couldn’t see it, though the views from the cliffs were spectacular. We knew we had to go around the last headland, which was always JUST there ahead of us, but we had no idea how many times the path went down to the coast then back up then back down. Thanks to Fitbit, we now know that there are 134 flights to be climbed on this path, although it sure feels like more.​

We start with a 1.5-mile walk from Buck’s Mills down to the coast path.

We remember this little church from our last walk here, when we went the other direction to Clovelly.

We find the path and it goes up.

But what a view. After this little opening, we are in the trees for quite a bit. The sea is close enough that we can hear the roar of the waves, but we won’t have a good view for another hour or two.

Lunch. We didn’t bring enough water so have to ration for the next four hours.

Berries everywhere!

At the end of the woods we can see the rest of the walk. We need to go round that very last headland, which doesn’t seem too awfully far away.

The path heads back down to the coast.

Look closely to see the pheasants; there were hundreds up here, shooting out of the bushes as we walked through. I had to clack my poles ahead of me as I walked so they wouldn’t shoot out right at our heads!

The path leads down to the coast. Down, down, down.

We reach the bottom and look around for the path. Not sure if the path goes across the coast, which would be nice, or if it goes right back up the other side.

Ah. Back up.

Back up again. Each time we go up we think, “ok NOW we’re at the top and can walk along flat land for a bit.” And each time the path laughs at us as it heads back down.

Still heading toward that very last headland, around which should be, at some point, Westward Ho!

Ha! A stile for people and a special opening for their dogs!

No idea what this is.

Westward Ho! Is just around this bend. We are grateful.

It’s raining too hard to get pics of Westward Ho!, plus there’s not much to see, so all we get from this little town on the coast is this sign.

From Westward Ho! we catch a bus to Instow, where we stop at the pub frequented by locals and their dogs, gulp down a couple strong drink, and devour a huge plate of steamed veggies and a small plate of fish & chips. On the 15-minute bus back to Barnstable I ponder what to do first at our B&B: eat the delightful confectionary that will be waiting for us or soak in an epson salt bath. I go back and forth in my mind because this is no small decision; both are hugely important. In the end I eat the treat while waiting for the bath to fill, which seems the most efficient use of time and I am nothing if not efficient.