Last weekend I joined some friends hiking in south Devon.
We set off in good weather and walked three miles into Salcombe to pick up on the south west coastal path. I have often seen the little acorn on sign posts but never realised it was marking a 630 mile trail around the south west of England.
Just past Salcombe we discovered the trees pictured above. In case you are wondering like I was, its knitting graffiti. I would still be pondering now on what it was if it wasn’t for Hayley and her knowledge of strange tree knitting practises.
Heading south out of Salcombe it was not long before we discovered the amazing Devon coast line. The path led us up and over starehole bay. The view was breathtaking.
Until the mist came in.
Then the view was more a whitish gray.
It wasn’t long before we could barely see 20 metres in front of us, and things started to get a bit damp. About 5 miles along the path Sophie started to ask howlong before we get back to the camp site. So we promised her were were half way and there will be a pub alone soon.
Mooing out of the mist c
ame a friendly cow. She seemed pleasant enough so we turned out back on her just for a second to see how far away the rest of our hiking crew were, turns out right behind us.
We turned around just in time to see the look of shear terror on their faces as they started to run in the opposite direction. Puzzled, me and Pete looked ahead into the mist to see a HUGE cow galloping towards us with a look of craziness, pretty sure it was one of those mad cows with a taste for blood.
Being the man that I am, I ran following the others screaming like a girl hoping the cow would devour Pete first and give me time to make my escape.
Then we heard a scary roar!
Turns out it was Pete.
Thinking on his boots, Pete sized up the scary zombie monster cow and without a thought for his own safety, decided to charge it head on and shout at it.
The mad cow was more than a little freaked out by this, you could see in his face that he was thinking “This guy is obviously more crazy than I am” So turned on its hoofs and ran in the other direction. Allowing us a safe passage past him and quickly over a fence.
As the mist came in even more we decided now would be a good time for lunch, being careful not to eat the rolls that Peter had been carrying all day and snacked on chocolate and dried fruit.
Some 14 miles later we finally fell into the pub we had been promising Sophie that was ‘just over this hill’ for the last 9 hours. Sitting by the fire we slowly acclimatised back to civilisation before we walked the last few miles back to the camp site.
Then in true British style, we ate BBQ in the rain at 11pm at night with a rain filled can of Fosters to wash it down.
Before crawling in a thankfully dry tent and passing out.
This micro adventure has left me thinking… how about the other 616 miles? I didn’t realise we had this awesome hike right on our door steps!