We had a strange evening chatting to a young lad of 20 or so who was staying in the hostel long term. He was with his Dad of about my age, late forty/fifty. They too had been traveling but more due to lack of work and limited options regarding accomodation . It's a thin line sometimes! We put in a fiver for a drink or two and sat relaxed. Another long term resident of five weeks plus came in very jolly, he was about 18 , offered us cheap sherry and played the guitar asking us to make lyrics up and drum. All in all we had a good eve tinged with sadness.
We went to bed about 12. The poor chap we had were sharing with had opened the window as we lay there he came in to bed having sat hunched isolated in a corner downstairs and detached from all. He was french who taught english , this I gleaned from the young guitarist trying to engage in friendly conversation with him
and getting a cold shoulder. He came in the room and in clear english said ' It stinks in here'.
The next morning I tried to apologize to him about the smell but he just ignored me. Friendly soul, abit scary.
I got up about 7 , went down to do
a cooked breaky. It was peaceful except the son lodging there was was still up and on seeing me went to bed!
We walked the into the rather datedtown centre with its charity shops and discount stores and contrastingtrendy cafes. J had to get a pressie for his girlfriend and I meths and micropourous tape for my feet, I had sore toes recently which spoilt the fine walking recently.
J returned having been into a shop where he actually had made a pressie, a wax painting. It was pretty good . I was sat having a coffee waiting for his return.
We walked on getting poppies eventually climbing up to the Tors which got the blood circulating.
The weather for the whole day walking stayed good. At times the wind bit and chilled. Sitting at Bull Head watching a yellow RAF rescue helicopter hover just opposite the lighthouse. It did not do alot except hold its position for about 10 mins.
We had a helter skelter route to Morte Head leaving me sweating profusely due to keeping my waterproof top from stopping at Bull Head. It is strange how body temp goes up a down. Chilled pleased when stopped as sweat from working hard whilst walking. It is a skill trying to stay at a constant perfect temperature.
A little windswept we headed to Woolacombe, a place of numerous B&B.
We dropped to the beach and walked the strandline kicking a tennis ball along between us. Two miles of sand walking we sat at picnic tables of a closed cafe eating cheese sandwiches. Surfers sat out at sea waiting for the perfect wave. It was chilly in the dry let alone in a wetsuit sat in the sea. The waves looked pretty dramatic.
The route took us for a dash to get to Saunton Sands and the dunes before dark. Passed the massive imposing white hotel and dropping to another long beach ,a short stroll and nipping into a secluded flat spot in the vast dunes. We watched dog walkers disappear then in half light pitched.
Almost as soon as we climbed into our sleeping bags the rain started, and showers fell until we just ignored them they were so frequent. We did not eat much and without blogging fell asleep.
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