Wednesday 3rd Sept 2025
Hartland Point to Upright Cliff
Arrived just before half four. It’s showery with strong onshore westerlies. £3.00 entry but for a tenner I can park on the headland overnight. Which way to walk? I have a gut feeling to walk left. I’m not alone though. There are a few day trippers and vans parked up.
Circular walk. Pretty much missed any decent rain showers. Found a bench, so that’s tonight sorted. Walked around to Upright Cliff. Smoothlands looked like a lovely place to live.
Heading north, Shipload Bay looks intriguing. I wonder if it holds a wave.
I’m parked up on my own in solitude, and I still can’t get away from the abuse. Phones can be very intrusive on your mental health.
Thursday 4th Sept 2025
Hartland Point to Chapman Rock
A lot of rain last night and this morning. I think I’ve caught a break in it now. As I brushed my teeth just moments ago, I watched a Kestrel hover and dip, hover and dip, edging its way along the cliff top, eyeing up prey.
I had porridge.
I got to the bench last night and as I began to set up, I suddenly thought,
‘Damn, I’ve forgotten my film’.
The light was fading, and a split-second decision was made. I left my gear on the path and ran maybe half a mile back to the van. I figured, if anyone is going to steal it, I’ll pass them by.
It was touch and go with the weather. Out to sea rain was falling in a condensed mass. On the wind it was, it was edging my way. As it closed, I just about finished. Quickly packing away I found a hollow in the hedge and took shelter.
No waves at Shipload Bay and despite the name, no access either. There are three benches at least around the bay. Access is best from East Titchberry Farm.
I ate lunch at Chapman’s Rock. That was my point of return. In the end there was four benches at Shipload Bay. I didn’t think I would see any as there was nothing as I left the point but like buses, you see one and three more come along.
The walk to Chapman’s Rock was pretty incidental. You can’t see much as high gorse blocks the view out to sea. When you do get a view, it’s stunning. Other than that, you’re just walking along the edge of agricultural fields. The butterflies by the sunflowers were quite inspiring.
Flake like.
Walking alone has its benefits. With no need to fill the space with conversation, you’re left to your thoughts. In special moments there is no thought, but they always return.
I can’t believe what’s just happened. I was sat having a coffee on the bench when a kafuffle sounded out and as I looked to my side an elderly woman was being pulled along the gravel by her Great Dane dog. It was trying to get at another. When I say pulled, I mean she was belly down, Superman like, being dragged along. At first, I didn’t react. I was in a moment of disbelief. I thought after a few feet she would get a handle on her dog, but she kept going past. I think ‘Oh my god’ was repeatedly uttered from her lips. When I realised the seriousness, I stepped in and grabbed the dog’s harness. I worried it was going to start on me as I read ‘I need space’ in big letters. She was however good with me. I soothed her with calm affirmations and as the owner got up, her clothes were all torn and she was obviously in a state of shock.
The dog’s lead was attached around her waist which is why she couldn’t get control. The Dane was a rescue, 18 months old. She was very placid with me, but I don’t think the owners of the other dog thought the same.
That was the third time I went to get a coffee today and that happened.
Walking around Shipload Bay I thought nothing of it, apart from the high steep cliffs. It was quite non-descript but, on my return, I noticed a finger post which I had missed on my way out. I read the story of the plane which had crashed into the cliffs some 80 years previous. Now those cliffs resonate differently. History has changed my view. I can’t believe a plane, especially of such size, could crash into them.
All perished, ten souls lost to a bay, accessible only by sea. I can’t comprehend a plane coming in so low could crash into the side of the cliff.
Looking past pots of potatoes and veg’, out over the lid of the cooker, past John’s wave in the window, and the winds picked up across the sea this afternoon. Like small flicks of a painter’s palette knife, white crests break the dark grey, green, blueness of the ocean. What colour is that? All march west 45° from the horizon, presenting an endless triangle that disappears almost as soon as they are formed, cross ways towards the cliffs and inaccessible bays.
A lot of what I imagine to be holidaying Germans seem to inhabit this side of the coast.
Having had to pay another night’s park up I chatted to the woman at the coffee kiosk. She wasn’t visible at first, but she appeared and apologised. She was contemplating a limerick she had to write.
‘What’s the first line’ I ask.
‘There was a young ploughman called Jack’
Gender inequality stills exists in the farming community I see but I said to her, can I say a line without being rude.
‘Of course,’.
Her son’s name is Jack and he’s in the ploughing competition. So, it seems I got that wrong.
‘People thought he was a bit of a pratt.’
Having thought some more on it.
‘Going up and down, and round and round’
‘He’d ploughed out the vicar’s black cat.’
Who needs Simon Armitage walking the coastal path.
Photographing the bench tonight I had a clear view across Shipload Bay. As I thought on the inevitability of the plane crashing into the side of the cliff, I saw what looked like steps at the bottom. Maybe there is a path down. And given the right swell there could be a wave too. That I will have to explore another time.
Friday 5th Sept 2025
Chapman Rock to Brownsham Cliff
Up early and about to leave for Examsworthy but I’m locked in.
Today I picked up the path at Chapman’s Rock from Examsworthy. The walk again was pretty much of a muchness as it edges agricultural fields to one side, with tall hedges of mixed foliage the other. Now and again, you catch a break and the view to Blackchurch Rock was stunning. As I looked towards home, I could see distant swell breaking.
I feel closer to you with every step.
I ascended Brownsham Cliff and rested. It’s the site of an ancient iron-age fort. I could feel their presence. This landscape feels ancient. That might have had something to do with the signpost, but the terrain has changed. As you descend Windbury Head you are met with trees.
The walk down to Mouth Mill appears steep on the map, so I’ll leave that for another day.
I’ve seen many walkers today, the most yet. As they pass, camera in hand, I have Parr in mind.
I wonder on their thoughts and motives. Everyone walking the path will have a story to tell and mine is no different to most.
My aim is to escape.
I saw another sign today. Another plane crashed into these cliffs. In between seeing these signs, I had seen a small plane flying high. From the height it seems unfathomable they would crash here.
Passing through this landscape, on foot and by van, it is undeniably farming country. It is the world of Ravilious.
Whilst people like me have or make time to walk the coastal path, the farmers and their families work. Dairy farmers milk, arable is harvested. I’m intrigued by the farming life. I want to explore it with a roving eye like Ravilious or Sander
I should have photographed the fencers, the lady in the coffee kiosk, and the elderly woman with the sweet Devon accent who had been (wo)manning the gates everyday since March.
A relatively still evening. Birds chirp in the hedgerows. Crows caw. The sea is again a rhythmic ebb and flow, a constant rise and fall, rise and fall. I watched what I thought was a seal. At times I thought it was human. It’s probably a rock. I wish I had my field glasses.
The wind is still. The light overcast, flat and dull. Every now and again I hear an acorn drop or maybe dead leaves through the trees. It’s quite loud considering. A pheasant scoots past, followed shortly by a walker. We say hello.
1 comment
I must admit I don’t read that much anymore and mostly scroll through my feeds liking this and that but this was nice ! Interesting and a nice read 👏🏼