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There are no buses to the paths we need to walk in this area, so we have to rely on taxis and bumming rides from kind strangers. Today we did both. This morning we took a taxi to Holdstone Down and walked the 9 miles back. Andy, the taxi driver, knows the path well and suggested this drop off point. Turns out Andy is an extreme cyclist who bikes the coast path with a group of other extremists at top speed at night, with only their bike lamps to keep them from careening over the cliff.
Andy explained that they often have to carry their bikes up and down the rough spots. He casually mentions that they run while carrying the bikes so as to keep their heart rates up. My goodness. Makes our 30-minute-miles huffing and puffing with walking sticks seem downright geriatric.
This stretch is a perfect (and painful) example of the how Coastguard originally used this route to find smugglers—the path clings tight to the edge, forcing us down into the valley and straight back up the other side—all in an effort to keep the sea in sight.
Landslides and a new fence. The path keeps getting pushed back from the edge.
Looking back at the storm behind us. We see six rainbows today.
You never know what you'll find around a bend...
It's a combe--a short, narrow, steep-sided valley—specifically, one that is closed at the upper end. We can see the path way over on the other side, with a few teeny tiny specks of people.
The path goes along one side of the combe before cutting over to the other side. Way down at the end of the combe we can see the Hunters' Inn, which was built back in the 1800’s as a—wait for it— hunters' inn. This is our next goal. You can see the path on the right in this photo.
The sun comes, out, goes back in, clouds roll over, the sun comes back.
From the Hunter's Inn website: "this Arts and Crafts style inn boasts hearty meals and a welcome stop-off for visitors to the tree-lined Heddon Valley and the dramatic countryside beyond."
We head back up on the other side of the combe.
That's the side we came down a few hours ago. You can see the path toward the top of the photo. Now we're the teeny tiny people on the other side.
We watched in fascination. There were mere inches to spare.
I was totally and thoroughly exhausted by this point. Climbing over the slile was slow and painful.
And then the steps.
We reach the Valley of the Rocks—our stopping point!
It’s here that we bum a ride back to Lynton. After our sandwich, tea, and scones of course. When we get back to the B&B, our room is a wreck, which we ignore, and go to bed early.
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