South West Coast Path

The South West Coast Path is Britain's longest waymarked trail, stretching for a staggering 634 miles (1014 km) around England's south-western peninsula. It begins in Minehead, but soon leaves Somerset for the coastline of North Devon. It then encircles the whole of coastal Cornwall, and takes a circuitous line round the South Devon coast, before coming to an end at Poole Harbour in Dorset.

In August I walked two-thirds of this trail from Minehead to Plymouth: a total of 410 miles (660 km). It took me the whole month to walk it. You can't do it quickly. It's a squirming, squiggly, writhing, wriggly kind of route, tracing every point and headland, often going back on itself as it seeks a way round inlets and estuaries (though you can often use ferries to cross these estuaries). Sometimes you feel you're walking two miles only to progress one mile. And it's a surprisingly strenuous route, possibly one of the most strenuous I've ever done in the UK (and that includes the Pennine Way). There's hardly ever an 'easy' day of flat walking. Most days you're on a perpetual roller-coaster of short but steep ups and downs. But, for all the hard work, it's a remarkable route, a beautiful route, and, though there were some busy coves and beaches bustling with surfers and holidaymakers (it was the month of August), much of the route was splendidly isolated, with only the occasional other walker for company.

I started out with full backpacking kit, but soon sent home all my camping gear - tent, stove, sleeping bag, sleeping mat. Even though the stuff was 'lightweight', I found it much too heavy to carry. The unaccustomed weight on my back and shoulders was spoiling the whole enjoyment of the walk. So I resigned myself to spending more money than planned - but could now look forward to hot showers, comfortable beds and big breakfasts in the B&Bs and country inns along the trail!

The photo above shows my first and only wildcamp. It was an idyllic spot just two hours west of Minehead. The moorland here - colourful with yellow gorse and purple heather - rolls steeply down to the Bristol Channel. I pitched my tent in the lee of a stone wall overlooking ferns and rocks, short bilberry bushes and the still, blue water of the channel. In half an hour all was done - tent up, air mat inflated, sleeping bag unpacked. I put some water to boil on my dinky little Coleman gas stove and sat cross-legged, gazing out into an infinity of blue. It was so peaceful. There were no passers-by. I felt like the only person in Somerset. Buzzards mewed and red deer barked. I relaxed, freed my mind and let the tranquillity drift over and through me. I watched the sun set. An owl distantly hooted. This walk was going to be good ...

Here are two views from my wildcamp ...