Holy Mother of God. We knew the weather was supposed to be horrid, due to some hurricane somewhere out at sea, but we’d heard the warnings all week and so far the weather hadn’t lived up to the hype. Today it did. As of 9am (Sunday), we had no idea what we were doing. Weather forecast was scary, but there are no buses to anywhere on Sunday so...what to do?

At the back of our minds we were thinking that we most certainly wanted to work in the Sunday carvery (roast beef and Yorkshire pudding) at the Blue Ball Inn. Most certainly.

So after discussing various options with Jane (B&B owner) who suggested we scrap walking today because of the forecast, and another couple eating breakfast next to us, who agreed with Jane, we decide to walk anyway because A.) they all admit they are fair weather walkers, which skews their opinion somewhat, and B.) there’s not much else to do here and C.) we are so close to finishing up this section.

First we take the cliff railway--which was built in the 1890s and is a water-powered funicular railway--down to Lynmouth. I admit to not knowing what funicular means. It’s a cool invention as it uses water and the weight of the car going the opposite direction to move the cars up and down.

Lynmouth is an old, old village and like Lynton up above, was nicknamed “Little Switzerland” by the Victorian tourists who swarmed the area back in the day.

The “mouth” part of “Lynmouth” refers to the fact that the mouth of the river feeds into the sea right here.

We’re headed up there today.

The only way to get there is to go up; which we do for quite a long time. Views are spectacular.

This is looking back from whence we came. We see the storm clouds but don’t pay much attention because the sky’s looked like this our whole trip and it never got as bad as the weather people said it would.

There’s the Blue Ball Inn, with it’s cozy fireplaces and lovely drinks and comforting foods. We could easily stop walking and meander on down there. But no. The coastal path doesn't go by the inn, it goes around the headland, which means we go around the headland. How bad can it be?

I’m really nervous here because the wind is picking up and the rain is coming down in sheets. Besides, look how exposed we’ll be if the 80 mph winds they’re predicting start swirling around us. We waver. Is this smart? But on we go.

I take no photos for the next 30 minutes as the rain is pelting our faces like pinpricks of glass and the wind is FIERCE. We have no idea which way to go except we know we need to get off the path.

Of course Bob wants a selfie.

We do reach the inn. We do get our alcohol. We do get our Sunday carvery. The sign at the door says “wet dogs and muddy boots welcome” so we feel right at home as we drip drip drip across the floor.

Bob drinks a Glenmorangie to toast the boys, and a couple pints of ale. I drink two very strong gin & tonics with elderberry tonic. We begin to warm up.

By the time we head out the rain has mostly stopped though the wind is still whipping around. We decide to walk the two miles back to Lynmouth, taking in the historic Watersmeet House, which was a fishing lodge in the 1800’s and England’s oldest Edwardian tea garden.

We head down the path to Riversmeet House, which the couple sitting next to us at the Blue Ball Inn convinced us was worth the walk. I am sore and tired and therefore not totally in agreement with them.

Unfortunately, Watersmeet House is closed due to weather conditions. As we’ll have to come back here someday to finish up our missing path sections, maybe we’ll work in a walk back. Or maybe not.

The name “Watersmeet” comes from the fact that in this very place, the waters...meet. The British don’t mess around with nomenclature.

The river is roaring it’s way out to the sea.

Back in Lynmouth. Finally.