I'm Chris, my husband is Bob, and we adore everything about England. Well, not blood pudding. And not the public toilets in Mevagissey, which are simply frightful. But just about everything else. We'd been to York and London and Rye and Scotland and hundreds of other places. But discovering the 630-mile South West Coast Path changed everything.
Where the SWCP takes you:
Into ancient, working fishing villages.
Under widescreen, never-ending skies—clouds always changing.
Through sheep-dotted fields.
Meandering ancient, hidden villages.
Past quintessential English cottages, flowers growing wild and crazy.
Through storms and wild winds that blow you sideways.
Relaxing in warm, cosy, centuries-old pubs.
After my sister and mother raved about their own SWCP adventures, Bob and I didn't really have a choice — we had to experience it ourselves. We chose the remote and tropical coastal town of St. Ives in Cornwall for the hike. As the westernmost county in England, Cornwall is on the way far edge of the country — just getting there is a six-hour train journey.
In 2012, we landed at Heathrow and headed straight for Paddington. After the customary ritual of stocking up on food and snacks at Marks & Spencer, we settled into a table on the first "non-peak" (cheap) train to Penzance. On such a long train ride, a table isn't just a luxury; it's a necessity. Our first night was spent in the quiet comfort of a St. Ives B&B right near the coast. Bright and early the next morning we woke to the invigorating sting of salt air and the piercing cackle of seagulls. After a legendary Cornish Full Breakfast in the B&B, we made a pilgrimage to a tiny shop on the quay to stock our packs with golden, flakey Cornish Pasties and sweet almond Bakewell Tarts. With a thermos of steaming tea and spirits humming with excitement, we finally stepped onto the path—oblivious to how much those six miles would change us. You can read about that hike here.
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HOW WE TRAVEL
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We had a few decisions to make while planning this really long walk around the coast.
First: Our stuff While we pack as lightly as possible, it's still a hefty load. The thought passed through our minds — oh so fleetingly — that we would simply backpack our stuff around. Haha! Won't be happening. There are services that move your luggage from one accommodation to the next; some will even select and line up your nightly stays for you, meaning all you have to do is show up, sleep, and pack your bag before you take off hiking the next day. We may try one of these services some day. Second: Transportation We also had to decide how to get back and forth from the path. Renting a car wouldn't help because at the end of the hike, your car would still be back at the beginning. So that left buses, trains, taxis, sightseeing double deckers, and (gasp) begging rides and hitchhiking. We use all of these. We Choose a Village "Base" After deciding where we want to hike, we seek out a pleasant village as close to the path as possible—making sure there is ample bus service, a decent grocery store, and hopefully, cute shops, pubs, and historical interests. We don't always get everything, though bus service and food are musts. We usually book for one week, then move to another location. We Stay in Cottages
Where we stay is a big part of our adventure. We intentionally trade modern luxuries for the character of local cottage rentals. We’ve stayed in places with walls three feet thick and ceilings low enough to remind you that 18th-century sailors weren't particularly tall. Staying in a cottage means waking up to mist-covered views, shopping at the village market, and ending our days in a local pub. It’s the closest we'll ever come to actually living in a British village. Though we've also had to resort to sleeping in a few not so beautiful places, we've staying in some utterly magical cottages and B&Bs:
We Eat Well (And Frequently) On the path, we seem to require a lot of food. (Off the path too come to think of it.) To keep our energy up, we’ve developed a few simple, local, and nutritious (mostly nutritious, anyway) strategies to fuel our trek. We forage at village grocery stores for breakfast and trail lunches, then seek out fresh seafood at the pub in the evenings. True to the setting, we eat a shocking quantity of Fish & Chips (we are on the coast, after all). We also polish off an alarming number of cream teas (we are in England, after all). Oh, and as for Bakewell Tarts: these we seek out wherever we go, preferably from small bakeries or village markets. As the sun dips toward the sea, you’ll likely find us tucked into a softly lit, wood-beamed pub, unwinding with a large glass of Rattler Cyder or a pint of Thatchers Ale. For us, a pint at the local isn't just a drink; it’s a nightly immersion into living a British coastal village life. BREAKFAST & LUNCH
Most days we eat breakfast in our cottage, though we'll also indulge in a few "Full English Breakfasts." B&Bs usually offer these as part of your stay. We always pack a lunch for the trail, but that doesn't stop us from eating a second lunch (hobbit-like) if we happen upon something tempting, which we usually do.
The Catch of the Day
How can we turn down Fish & Chips? We can't. We don't even try. The best come wrapped in newspaper to eat outside and it's outrageous how much we'll consume on a two-week trip.
CREAM TEAS
A traditional cream tea includes tea (of course), two warm scones, a generous dollop of sweet strawberry jam, and the reigning queen of the dish—the decadent, butter-thick clotted cream.
Devon and Cornwall share a lighthearted but fierce rivalry when it comes to the 'correct' way to assemble your scone. In Cornwall, it’s strictly jam first; in Devon, they do the opposite. It’s a bit startling how many cream teas Bob and I can polish off in just two weeks. But walking wears you out. We need sustenance. And, we are in England.
THE "FULL ENGLISH"
Often called a "fry-up", the Full English is a hearty, multi-component feast that will keep you full for hours — or in our case, for miles.
The essential components typically include two eggs, back bacon, sausages (affectionately known as 'bangers'), Heinz baked beans, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, and a side of toast or fried bread. And then, there’s the blood pudding (sometimes called black pudding). We once sat next to a Brit on a flight who was returning home for the first time in a decade; he confessed that the thing he missed most of all was blood pudding. Against our better judgment, we decided to give it a go. After just one bite, we were done. I personally can't get past the 'blood' aspect, but the iron-heavy taste and grainy texture didn't help either. It’s safe to say: nah. 
The Carvery
The Carvery is a beloved British institution, especially on a Sunday. It's essentially a buffet-style roast dinner — a "home-cooked" Thanksgiving-style meal served every week of the year. Sadly — and this I learned from experience — you can usually only go through the line once.
At a carvery, you purchase a ticket and take it to the carving station. There, a chef stands behind several large, glistening joints of slow-roasted meat — usually beef, turkey, gammon (ham), or pork. You choose which meats you want, and the chef carves thick, succulent slices directly onto your plate. Once you have your meat you move on to help yourself to vegetables. These usually include roasted potatoes, mashed potatoes, carrots, peas, leeks in cream sauce, and cauliflower cheese, and a lake of rich, hot gravy. And Then The Crowning Glory: No carvery is complete without Yorkshire Pudding, a savory, airy, batter pudding. Yum. It's all just yum.
We walked a really rough section that took all day in high winds and freezing sideways rain and the thing that kept us going—the one thing—was the promised carvery at the end.
Post-Hike Pints
I probably drink more during a two-week trip to England than I do the rest of the year combined. It’s partly the British ciders, they're crisp, refreshing, and far superior to what we have back home, and partly the ritual. There's something incredibly relaxing about sinking into a pub chair after an all-day hike; it’s a specific kind of thirst that only a local cider or gin & tonic can quench. At least, that’s what we tell ourselves.
Back in the U.S., I’m not a bar person, but I absolutely adore British pubs. In Britain, pubs are so much more than places to grab a drink; they're 'public houses'—historically significant community hubs that have served as a third place for centuries. With their low oak beams, uneven flagstone floors, and crackling fireplaces, they feel like a communal living room. What makes British pubs truly special is the unique combination of centuries-old history, quirky architecture, and a local social code that makes you feel like family the moment you walk in. We did learn a valuable pub lesson: most traditional British pubs do not offer table service for drinks. You order at the bar. I’m sharing this so others don't sit expectantly at a table for 30 minutes, wondering why no one's coming to take your order. Now we know.
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We Pack Light
Our packing approach is ruthlessly efficient: one backpack and one carry-on each. We live by a strict 'wear one, pack one' philosophy — two pants, two tops, two mid-layers: one packed, one on our backs. Yes, we look like hikers at the airport. Yes, we get tired of wearing the same dang thing over and over. But, also, there's a liberating simplicity in not having to think about what to wear: you wake up and put on whatever is clean and dry. Or sometimes, just dry. Our bags are filled with well-worn layers designed to handle the temperamental coastal mists and the sudden Atlantic winds and storms that pop up with regularity. Every item earns its keep: our raincoat doubles as a heavy windbreaker on biting cold mornings, three pairs of wool socks keep our feet warm and dry, and two sets of quick-dry undies are easily washed in the sink. It's a lean, purposeful kit that allows us take on whatever the weather throws at us. The only thing you can be certain of regarding UK weather is that it will change—especially on the coast—often several times a day. We’ve learned to take our raincoats every day, every where. They’re lightweight, don't take up much space, and provide an essential extra layer of warmth. Pair that with a half-zip pullover that wicks sweat and dries overnight, and you have the ideal travel buddies. What We Wear
We wear one of the pants, undies, tops, mid-layers, and shoes on the flight — enabling all the rest to easily fit in one half of the suitcase.
A Word About Underwear: spend the damn money Ten years ago we came up with the bright idea to save up ratty underwear for our trip. We'd pack six pairs, wash them all halfway through the journey, then toss them out daily the last six days. It worked in theory. But that year, when we finally found a washer & dryer (they didn't have them in our guest house), we set out to do the halfway-through-the-trip load of laundry and it wasn't pretty. First I had to spend ten minutes figuring out how the damn machines worked (and I still got it wrong). Then it took forever for the cotton underwear to dry. I was tired but I had to keep running back and forth to the laundry room to see if they were dry. And they never were. At midnight I gave up and brought the damp items back to our room, where unfortunately, there were no radiators. As I was spreading everything out across the spare bed and over the chairs and off the doors to dry so I could go to sleep, I swore that on the next trip we would buy the damn travel underwear ("dries in hours") that I had come so close to purchasing before that trip. I had them in my hand, but a fit of frugalness stuffed them back on the shelf and walked away. At the time I felt virtuous: After all, at $18 a pop—and we'd need two each—I had just saved a small bundle. The night of laundry hell convinced me to spend the damn money. Which we did. I've not complained about underwear since. Footwear
Everything Else
Not shown: Laundry soap, power banks, cords, charger blocks, converters.
Laundry on the Go
While most weekly rentals have a washing machine, we’ve found ourselves in plenty of situations where the sink was our best friend for socks, undies, and quick-dry tees. We’ve even tackled hiking pants in the basin, though the result is usually only good enough for the trail, not so good for tea with the Queen.
Take advantage of those glorious British radiators — nothing beats the luxury of pulling on warm, dry socks on a misty coastal morning.
We Use Public Transportation
There's definitely a learning curve to using British trains and buses and taxis, and it frequently takes two of us to make sure we have the times and locations correct, but once you know, you know. Until the next year, when you've forgotten it all. TRAINS
It would be nice if there was one train company and one ticket price, but alas, like air travel, there are dozens of train operators and multiple pricing options, including railcards that cost money but offer discounts. Then there’s the platform issue. When you change trains, you most likely have to switch to a different platform, which could be up the stairs and across the bridge or way down on the other side.
THE BASICS: Single vs Return Single means one way, return means round trip. Standard vs First Class This one’s easy. First class is nicer but costs more. We go standard. Clock time Trains use 24-hour time. So 8 AM is 08.00 and 8 PM is 20:00. Bus schedules use the same. This confuses me every single time and, embarrassingly enough, I have to draw a clock like this. 
Seat reservations:
We have never reserved specific seats, meaning we play roulette every time we board, scurrying to find a table seat. (We do try to scurry sedately so as not to cause a scene.) You can tell if a seat is reserved because there will be a ticket sticking up from the top of the seat (on older trains) or a digital display above the seat (on newer trains). The notice will tell you which leg of the journey the seat is reserved, for example London to Reading, and you may sit in the seat on any non-reserved legs (for example, from Reading on). Often the seat holder doesn’t show up so you can also take a chance and snag the seat yourself, being prepared to move if they do show. BUSES
TAXIS
BEGGING rides/HITCHHIKING
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