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, casually mentioning 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 poles seem downright geriatric.

Lots of rain lately.

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 along the path today.

You never know what you’ll find around the corner.

The British word for this valley is "combe". We can see the path way over on the other side, with a few teeny tiny specks of people.

Way down at the far end 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 Hunters' Inn. From their website: "Built in 1906, 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."

Ha! I love that were walking along a smuggling track!

Bob gets half a pint and I get a fruity cider. We don't stay long.

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.

The path follows the road for a bit, giving us a chance to see up close how cars maneuver around each other on these narrow narrow lanes. Look how close they are. Not for the faint-hearted, obviously.

At this point I am struggling to get my muscles to heave my body up and over the four styles we cross.

The Valley of the Rocks—our stopping point!

It’s here that we bum a ride back to Lynton (we'd walked this short part last year). AFTER our sandwich, tea, and scones of course.

The day is done. Our room is a wreck. We go to bed early.

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Next Hike

Combe Martin to Holdstone Down