I’ve decided on a new ranking scheme for each day – depending on a a range of variables, weather, my mood, views, difficulty, wildlife etc. Day rankings

Today was a bronze day – one up from the standard day. It could have been a silver, but for the incident…

I caught up on sleep last night and was ready to leave by 7.30am as it was just getting light. My B & B was B1 only, so I walked down to the esplanade for breakfast, intending to be the first customer at 8am. Sadly, there was nothing to be had until 8.30. I didn’t want to wait and had had a large dinner as well as lunch yesterday, so I contented myself with a takeaway coffee and an oat crunch biscuit as a substitute for porridge.

The path makes a short climb behind the steam railway, then drops down onto a beach. I was completely mesmerised by the rock formations. It was almost like seeing the creation of the world as the beach had different layers of rock ranging from red sand to shale, then cobbles, then slabs of rock with deep grooves at an angle like frozen waves, which must eventually break up into the large cobbles.

I was walking very slowly as the surfaces were so uneven and slippery, when I felt a warm wet sensation in my right hand. I leapt in the air, the fear of God in me, and gave a shriek. I turned around to be faced by a large dog which had crept up on me – not a clatter of class so be heard. Its owner gave a perfunctory apology and mentioned that it is as well to be aware of one’s surroundings at all times. Thanks – top tip. I refrained from sharing one about the proper training of dogs.

The England coast path is not well signposted. Although there are signs pointing down to the beaches, it is not easy to know when to leave them. I saw one slip coming down and a lady walking a dog told me take it, and walk through the little hamlet behind the caravan park. With no other clues, I took her word for it. The path climbed a cliff then dropped down onto another beach with even more fascinating rock formations than the first.

It was obvious that the tide, if it came in, would be right up to the cliff, but there were no alternative route signs or warnings before you went onto the beach. Fortunately, although the tide was turning, he sea was a good way out. Enquiries of a lone angler led me back off the beach along another track which undulated gently. I could see a large herd of cows in the distance, but there was no point in borrowing trouble. The path might not go anywhere near them, and in any case, at this time of year, they should be docile.

To my right I could see a beautiful Tudor mansion nestled into the trees. Down to the shore again, then up a little path with a gate at the end and the way marker. I was just opening the stile when I heard the pounding of hooves. Yes, the cow telegraph was in operation and the whole herd was thundering towards me. I clanged the gate shut again as they pressed against it. They weren’t big, but they were young bullocks, and there were an awful lot of them. There was no way I was walking through them.  I looked at the map. There was a considerable detour, but I saw no alternative. I walked down a lane, then along a track and turned back up. Doing three sides of a square, it was not clear whether the path led back into the same field, but it was a big field with a hill in the middle. Hopefully, I would not encounter the beasts again.

Of course, the path did go back into the same field, and I could see the blighters, walking back around the base of the hill. Fortunately, there were two other people coming from the direction I wanted to go in. If I were quick, I could enter the field at the same time as them, and we could give each other mutual support. They got into the field before me, and walked along the far side, where I would have walked if I had not detoured. The beasts thundered towards them. The walkers had sticks and were waving them furiously. In cowardly fashion, I thought I would just nip unobtrusively through the field corner whilst the bullocks were occupied elsewhere, but one looked round and saw me. Half of them kept the other walkers pinned up whilst half began to trot in my direction. I went as fast as I could without running, and nipped through the gate, feeling hot breath on my back.

I was depressed to find that the gate, only of wood, had no proper fastening, but it was enough to e stymied the bullocks. I shot sideways behind the hedge to take myself out of their sight. They set up a halloing and a harrumphing. I felt a bit guilty about the other people, who I could hear desperately shooing them but, peeking through the hedge, I could see the mob that had followed me still hanging hopefully around the gate. I scurried sideways to cross the field out of their line of sight in case they cracked the gate opening.

I could see Hinckley point coming ever closer. The map shows the path going around the edge of it, which was my plan, with a detour of a couple of miles inland to my accommodation. However, the path was closed and brought me the west side of the power station, down a track into Shurton. I arrived at 1.30, having done an easy 10 miles, rather than the 12 I planned, but there is no point doing more this afternoon, as I’d have to backtrack and then repeat it tomorrow. I am planning to  meet Vicki and her spaniel tomorrow for a walk down the Parrett river.