Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Blog 11 : Instow to Westward Ho! A Blog about Blogging and A Chip off the Old Block

Hello All

Today has been a day much like yesterday. It was a flat business all the way. In fact I worked out that the steepest hill and highest gradient I've climbed in two and a half days, was the road up to the pannier market in Bideford which was equivalent to about four flights of stairs. The result of this flat land is that I have back ache. This is nothing unusual and will go away tomorrow. The reason I have got it was explained to me by a fellow walker the other day. Apparently the motion of walking up hill and movement of the hips and lower back is a form of massage; a massage that you do not get when walking on the flat. The opposite is the case as the weight all goes into the heel and lower back causing the problem. Bring on the hills I say.
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Blogging

This is the second time that I have written a blog about a walk. The first time was quite a few years ago when I walked the Coast to Coast route from St Bees in Cumbria to Robin Hood's Bay in Yorkshire. That was a shorter walk being only 200 odd miles and took 2 weeks.
What I was very surprised to discover was the way that the following of a blog grows and the international scope of the whole thing. I suppose it has something to do with search engines and key words. So if a search is put into the search engine of "walking" or "Coast to Coast", there is a possibility that my blog will come up as an option - maybe not on the first page admittedly.
After all we have, most of us, put in a search of our own name and it can be surprising what comes up. In my case, if you search for Rob Setter, you will have to scroll through many, many pages of stuff about red setters called Rob. It is probably worse for one of my brothers whose nickname is Red.
Anyway I'm getting off the point.
This South West Coast Path Ramblings blog is a relatively new venture, but already it surprises me that it is spreading around the world. I have access to a page that informs me where people are reading it. Nothing specific like: "in the bath" or "on a train", but it does tell the countries the readers are in . I find this fascinating. So far the countries are : United Kingdom (no surprise there), Ireland, France, Uruguay, United States, Portugal, Australia, Belgium and "AN UNKNOWN REGION". I wonder where!  Could it be North Korea? I suppose I'll never know.
So, can I make a request that if you are reading from somewhere beyond these shores, that you leave a comment in the "comments" section.  In fact I would love it if people did leave comments anyway. It's nice to get some feedback and friendly advice and suggestions.
One more thing about my blogs : I do struggle with two things:
1. Making mistakes, which regardless of my reading through before I press the publish button, escape me. I often notice them the next mourning. (see what I did there)
2. I spend more frustrating time trying to position the photos on the page. It is infuriating how they seem to have a mind of their own. Yesterday I thought I could get the pictures of the flowers in a nice arrangement, but what I ended up with was a haphazard jumble.

I'll keep trying and I expect I will get the hang of it sometime.

If you want to look at the old blog it's here:  robsetter.blogspot.com

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Here are a few pictures from today

Looking upstream to the old Bideford Bridge

Red Hot Pokers in all their glory

A more acceptable coast path

A field of blooming rape through the trees.
A Chip off the Old Block

While I was in Bideford I took the opportunity to explore a town that I have never been to before (that I can remember). I was pleasantly surprised.  In the pannier market there is a group of small shops and workshops where local artists and crafts-people can be found. I was looking in the window of a shop full of amazing woodcarvings and the chap inside nodded hello to me, so I went in for a look and a chat. I too am a woodcarver of sorts but nowhere near as good as John Butler. We had a good conversation about how we both got into wood carving and coincidentally both he and I had fathers who were woodcarvers and we both had our dad's chisels.
 I explained about the blog and he said he was happy for me to photograph some of his work. I just took a few photos. I hope they put across the skill but especially the humour of the subjects. John told me that he was a cartoonist previously and this comes through in his work.




The last picture is of John and comes from his website which is well worth a look

www.johnbutlerwoodcarver.co.uk

Another thing I did in Bideford was buy a sausage roll. I put it in my rucksack and walked for another hour or so until I reached Appledore. I sat on the quay  with my feet up on the railings and ate my sausage roll while being watched by a gull which was waiting it's chance to pounce on my lunch should I drop my concentration for a second.

 
When it comes to a battle of wits between me and a bird, I will win every time. Sorry bird this is not your day.
The gull flew off in search of a less canny customer. Then I got out my last bit of Easter Egg which Rebecca gave me and ate the lot. Delicious. I love a Lion Bar Easter egg. Thanks Bex.


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For the last two nights I have been the guest of Peter and Hilary in Westward Ho! (don't forget the apostrophe). They have made me feel extremely welcome and we have spent quite a few hours chatting about many subjects of interest to us. They told me a story which made me laugh at the time and again today as I walked along. Tonight I asked them if they minded if I put it on this blog. They said I should carry on and do it.
They have a friend who makes long bows. One day he looked into his vegetable garden and saw a pheasant digging up and eating his recently planted pea seeds. The bird was working methodically along the row gobbling every single pea. The man got out a bow and arrow and with practised precision killed the pheasant with one clean shot. He then collected the peasant and prepared it for the oven. So later that day he had a tasty dinner. But the best bit is, he cut open the crop of the bird and removed the peas and replanted them.....................Pheasant dinner and peas in a few months.



Take it easy.

Rob

www.justgiving.com/fundraising/RobSetter

Monday, April 29, 2019

Blog 10: Braunton to Instow. Pancake Flat, Wheelbarrow and Flowers, and a special Robbie surprise

Hello All

I spent last night in Barnstable as a very grateful guest of Brenda (and Rosie the golden retriever). Brenda had kindly offered me a bed for the night and also dinner followed by breakfast in the morning. IT WAS BLISS. I think I need to be very careful about having spells of luxury on this trip because I do have to sleep in the van sometimes. We sat and watched Country File and Antique Roadshow together before I turned in for the sleep of a God.
This morning I headed for Instow and found a great place to park the van. Then I caught the bus back to Braunton for a 10.30 start. This was quite a bit later than I had intended and I was a bit worried that I would finish late. I needn't have worried. As is traditional on this walk, it was raining as I started and continued for the majority of the 13 miles of tedium that is the walk along the Tarka trail from Braunton to Instow.
At 10.30 I stepped onto tarmac and I didn't leave the black stuff for 99% of the walk. I took some photos  and I hope that they demonstrate how it was:

   



     
           There was about 12 miles of this:







Walking on flat tarmac is exhausting both physically and mentally. I had on my walking shoes to help with the physical element and listened to my Ipod to keep me from going tarmac crazy. For those who are interested, this is what I listened to :
Mendelssohn - Octet; Some Mozart piano concertos and two Carl Neilson symphonies. I was so engrossed with the music in my head that I missed a turning and a chance to walk a small part of path beside the river which would have been more pleasant.

About 3 miles into the walk, I heard a noise from behind and a man ran past me pushing a bright orange wheelbarrow with a single large log in it. Luckily I had my phone in my hand having just taken a photo of the path.


Very soon after, an old bloke wearing headphones was walking towards me, so I got his attention.
I asked, "Are you a local and have you any idea why that chap is running with that wheelbarrow?"
"I am a local and I haven't a clue. He must be a nutter. It takes all sorts I suppose"
"Oh well never mind" I said, "Anyway, enjoy your walk."
"Enjoy your walk"

I didn't see the chap with the bright orange wheelbarrow again.

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To help with my boredom, I thought I would see how many flowers I could photograph along the walk in a ten minute period. Random I know. Here are the results:


              










 
Pretty impressive I think you will agree. I might try it again another day.



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And now a treat for all you "Where's Robbie" fans. Today we have two, yes two pictures:




And





I was very pleased to find the kiosk on the riverfront, so I asked the young girl who was serving if I could have my photo taken behind the counter. She looked surprised, but after I explained, she happily agreed. In fact she was really nice about it. But she did look pretty scared at first.
I told her she had made my day. What a laugh!


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If you have been enjoying these blogs why not pass on the link to a friend or friends, so that they can be equally enthralled. Share the joy.

robsetterswcp.blogspot.com

Take it easy.

Rob

www.justgiving.com/fundraising/RobSetter


Sunday, April 28, 2019

Blog 9 : Woolacombe to Braunton. Memories of foxes and stetsons. Styles or Gates.

Hello all.
I have just looked back at yesterday's offering and corrected a couple of spelling mistakes and I noticed that I was just about to return to the Bistro/Bar believing that the Bingo would be over.
As I opened the door to the bar a jovial young woman was announcing that the bingo was about to begin. I bought a pint and joined the others who had their tickets at the ready.
I must say that bingo has changed a lot since I last played. Firstly there are a lot of rules about serial numbers, claims, false claims, noise in general and messing about. Also there is an enormous screen or two showing the number as it is called, and all the numbers that have already been called. And, there are no balls. And there was no attempt at hamming it up with the usual calls of - two little ducks "quack, quack", Kelly's eye, Maggie's den etc. Where has all the romance gone. I don't know!
Anyway, I was given the responsibility of marking a card for the final round. The jackpot was £180 I think. I did the job alright and concentrated for all I was worth, but I have to admit to hoping that I wouldn't win. Imagine if I had a false claim. She had after-all explained the rules very precisely. Thankfully, I didn't win and neither did any of us.

I went to my van to crash out. But before I could go to sleep, I had to check that I had got the bus times ready for the next day's walk (today). I discovered that there are no buses running on a Sunday. Scuppered!
Once again Jack and Jen came to my rescue with an inspired plan. I would walk from Woolacombe to Braunton, leaving my van behind on the campsite and Jack would drive it to Braunton for me to find when I arrived. There are plenty of things that could have gone wrong with this, but it worked to perfection.

Memories of Stetsons


The Royal Hotel Woolacombe (probably under
 new management)
Jennie and I have had some great times in Woolacombe over the years, with friends, and on our own. One occasion was memorable because of the way that it turned out.
We took advantage of an offer in a newspaper that reduced the price of a stay at the Royal Hotel. It was for 2 nights and we arrived looking forward to our stay there. We started to realise that something was different when we saw a man in full cowboy outfit standing in the queue for reception. This was compounded when the lift doors opened to reveal a family of mum, dad and two teenagers dressed as cowboys, chaps, spurs and all.
It turns out that we were staying at the Royal during a line dancing convention and general jamboree of all things line. The strangest thing was that it appeared to be a totally joyless event. It would be hard to find less cheerful cowboys.
At dinner that evening we queued up with all the line dancers to get our meals and found a table. There weren't any waiters as such, so I went over to a member of staff and asked if we could have a bottle of wine?
"A bottle? We normally sell it by the glass".
"Well we can drink a bottle quite easily. So can I have a bottle of red please".
He went away then returned a few minutes later.
"I'm afraid we don't have any bottles".
"That's ok, don't worry about it".
Later that evening, as the line dancing was getting going, Jennie and I decided that we wouldn't stay for our second night. And we didn't.
You usually get what you pay for!

Memories of Foxes

One time Jennie and I were walking on Baggy Point, which is between Woolacombe and Croyde. We sat down on a bench to have a snack and we saw a family of foxes, which were incredibly close to us and appeared unaware of our presence. Three very young cubs were playing about, while their mother watched on.  There was no sign of the father.
While I was walking along the path at Baggy Point today I remembered the experience and went off into a flight of imagination about the whereabouts of the father, who had left all responsibility of childcare to the mother.
I played with a couple of ideas to amuse myself. Was he feeling a bit sorry for himself after a night on the Speckled Hen (a beer). Then I imagined that some people might think that "a night on the speckled hen" might have connotations of unfaithful romance.
Then I realised my elemental blunder - a fox is a mammal and a hen is a bird, so it could never happen. After all, it would be like a human feeling romantic towards a sheep for instance. Clearly preposterous!
Instead, he must have been on the Crafty Fox (another beer).
The view from Baggy Point to Morte Point and Woolacombe Sands

Apart from the walk around Baggy Point, I found the walk today was a bit boring and rather a slog. I was actually craving a hill. Am I going hill crazy? This is the second time I have walked this stretch of path and I don't think I will be doing it again in a hurry.






Styles or Gates



If, like me you have dodgy knees, you will be well aware that the style is an instrument of torture. At the moment, my right knee will only bend so far without causing me to groan in agony. This means that I have to find a method of getting myself over the style without bending my right knee. It's very tricky and involves me having to overbalance more than I want to. There is a strong risk that I will topple and come crashing to the ground in an embarrassing and painful tangle.

The gate on the on the other hand requires no bending of the knees. The gate swings open allowing the rambler to walk through to the other side. 

Let's hear it for the gate - a marvellous invention. 






My family have been incredibly supportive of me, leading up to, and during the walk and I'd like to say something about that.
I have three grown up children - Rebecca (Bex), Joe (Bonzo) and Lucy (Lulubelle). 

Lucy has been a marvel by having patience with me while she set up my Facebook pages and is a constant support, giving me technical advice and doing a great job with the admin. She was brilliant in coordinating my parking and camping arrangements recently. She is always ready to help with a smile.

Joe did a brilliant job on the van (more of the van later). It is fitted out with everything that could be needed. Joe has done a lot of wild camping and has advised me in this area of expertise and has made sure that I have a method of purifying the water I will be collecting for drinking. 

and

Rebecca lent me her iPhone charger. 

All three of my kids are marvellous and are extremely precious to me.

Take it easy.

Rob

Saturday, April 27, 2019

Blog 8: Lynton to Combe Martin and Combe Martin to Woolacombe. Something Strange in the Air

I am now sitting in the van, trying to get this blog done quickly so that I can go back to the bar/ bistro/family room of The Golden Coast Camp Site, Woolacombe.
Following my request for help that Lucy (my lovely daughter and admin person) put on the Facebook world, I was contacted by Jack who said the he, Jen and Bryn are staying at the camp and I would be welcome to join them and park up next to their van for the night. I've been here for about  a couple of hours and have been treated to a can of Fosters, a pint of Guinness, and the free use of a luxury chalet and the all important shower. I feel refreshed and hungry, so I am experiencing something for the first time ever. I could have stayed with Jack, Jen and lots of their friends and had something nice from the bistro, but I decided that I wanted to get a blog out tonight, so as I type this I'm waiting for my kettle to boil so that I can have my first ever Pot Noodle (Chicken and Mushroom Flavour)..........
.......The kettle is boiling so I'll stop now and finish the cooking process.

That was actually quite a tasty treat. I had it with naan bread.

I have two days of walking to write about, but I think I can keep them both pretty short. Yesterday was a difficult day. It didn't stop raining from the start till the finish. The climbs were immense and the views would have been amazing had I been able to see any of them.
It was arranged that Jennie would meet me at the end of the walk. The idea was that she would park up at Combe Martin and walk back along the coast path until we met. Unfortunately the car parks in C M don't take card payments and she could only find enough change for 2 hours. She walked toward me for an hour but I was not near enough to her for us to meet. So instead of a wonderful melodramatic meeting on the cliff edge, we met a while later in the car park, next to the public toilets.
We drove back to the campsite and what followed was a night that tested our patience and resolve. It never stopped raining and the wind was rocking the van from side to side throughout a long night. Difficult in the extreme.

There were some good bits about the walk and the day; for instance, I actually enjoyed a chance to sing at the top of my voice in the knowledge that no-one could here me. It was strangely empowering and great fun. But I can't for the life of me remember what I sang.

Today was a very different day. I stepped out into all that "Storm Hannah" could throw at me and the experience was great fun. Suddenly I would be forced to the left, right, forward or backward by the amazing blasts of wind. My walking poles paid for themselves today by keeping me upright when I could easily have floundered.

I had problems with my phone today. I suddenly noticed that I only had 2% of charge left so I shut everything down in case of emergencies. (This evening I discovered that I have a 30 minute video of the inside of my pocket). The problem was that I could not take any photos from lunchtime onward.
I was annoyed about this in particular because, as I was walking into a deep valley just below Morthoe, I saw something quite peculiar, which will be hard to explain, but I'll try :
A small stream which appeared to be flowing down the hill from Morthoe and would normally flow over the edge of the cliff down to the rocks below, was being gusted skyward by the incredible wind coming in from the sea. This was a beautiful sight as it went up into the air, fountain like,and then landed on the path forming a natural shower. I knew that I would have to walk through it as it covered about 30 yards of my path to a gate which was all drenched from the water. I was actually looking forward to walking slowly through the refreshing spray. As I got closer I detected a smell that was the same as I have smelt while passing sewage treatment plants, and I realised that this was water from a less than desirable source. I had no choice. I dropped my head and ran as fast as I could over the soaking distance to the gate, but I couldn't get the gate open without a struggle. By the time I had managed the gate and got through and away from the spray I was pretty wet and feeling sorry for myself. But then I found the whole experience incredibly funny and I couldn't stop laughing.
Singing and laughing when no-one can hear you is great. We should all try it sometimes.

Anyway, I expect the bingo is over by now so I'll join the others for a drink before I go to bed.

Here are some photos that I am pleased with because the are very colourful. They were taken on Ilfracombe harbour.





And of course there is this :




Take it easy.

Rob



Thursday, April 25, 2019

Blog 7. Porlock Weir to Lynmouth - Groynes, Blisters, Farmer's Lung and the curse of tic-tacs.

Hello all

Before I left home I asked Steve (my son-in-law) if he could do something with the idea of "Where's Robbie". He said "Leave it with me". So far, two of his brilliant creations have appeared on Facebook. Both have really amused me so I thought I would post them on the blogs as well. So here is the first one which is from yesterday.
For me, the funny thing is his choice of a photograph to use. At the weekend, we all had a laugh at how gormless I looked in this photo and I thought it would be the last that I would see of it. How little did I know.

This morning I woke feeling very good after a tremendous night's sleep. I packed up my day bag and set off at about 9.00. I called into the Spar shop in Porlock first and complimented the lady who works there on her very good advice that she had given me the previous day re: bus times and a camping site. I asked her for some cheese and she cut off a piece of extra strong cheddar cheese and put it between a small baguette forming a sandwich of sorts. £2.00 was all she charged. I felt like I should buy something else to show my gratitude. The first thing I saw was the mint and chewing gum display, so I selected some tic-tacs. GENEROUS!
With my lunch packed away in my bag I set off down the road.
I arrived in the Porlock marshes again and because the sun was shining decided to take some photos. The shingle beach was delightful but it was the groynes which caught my attention.

I love the way that the boulders have wedged themselves between the posts. I took lots of photos and these are just two of them. Notice that the sun is shining, it didn't last unfortunately.

Here are some more photos that I took -



















All of these photos were taken before it started raining and hailing. They show - a stream where I filled my water bottle, some unfurling ferns, the delightful path ahead and the ever present sea, through the trees.


It was - for me - a very sad thing that the death was announced of the actor Edward Kelsey. Edward has played the part of Joe Grundy in the Archers for 32 years. I have been listening to The Archers for about that long. Joe Grundy was, and is, a great character, who added a level of comedy to a story-line which can be a little serious and precious at times. He is also capable of reducing the radio audience to tears when gets all sentimental. His character age was 98 and Ted Kelsey was hoping to continue to play the part when Joe reached his 100th Birthday. Unfortunately this was not to be.
Joe Grundy was renowned for using a - I believe - fictitious illness called "farmers lung". If Joe was asked to do something which he didn't want to do, he would cough and mumble about his farmers lung. I hope that the script writers will allow him the final say by the words FARMERS LUNG appearing as his cause of death. RIP Joe Grundy/Ted Kelsey.

Blisters

I have a small blister on one of my toes of the left foot.

Curse of the tic-tacs

Never carry tic-tacs on a walk. I have had to endure the rattle of a semi-filled box of tic-tacs for about 11 miles today. Never again.

Take it easy.

Rob

www.justgiving.com/fundraising/RobSetter