We were up reasonably early and, after a good-sized breakfast, left by 9am and walked the hundred metres or so to rejoin the coast path at the southern end of Croyde Bay – Dunedin is certainly superbly located for coast path walkers! We were walking fast – our train left Barnstaple at 2pm, and we felt that to complete 14 miles by then would be pushing it. Looking at the book, we saw that our route today was generally flat and ran inland alongside an estuary – we knew therefore that there would be no hills or great views to detain us en route, and we could just get our heads down and march.

Initially the path ran through a grassy area at the top of a low cliff, but it wasn’t long before it turned inland slightly, crossed the B3231 and then ran along parallel to the road for a mile or so. Here the path crosses back to the other side of the road and heads through what looks like the private grounds of a hotel (we did hesitate momentarily…), then along the seaward side of some houses. Southwards we could see broad sweep of sandy beach where the Braunton Burrows disappear into the sea. There were parking & toilets here for beach users (mainly surfers, I would guess!) – also handy for us coast path walkers!

After briefly rejoining the road, the path heads south into a golf course set on the Braunton Burrows, a large area of duneland spreading south towards the Taw Estuary. As is usual on golf courses, we felt a bit like we shouldn’t be there – especially as the path through the course was not especially clear. Fortunately golf courses have some of the softest, easiest and most open walking to be found, and with a sandy base this one was no exception. Our only regret was that higher dunes lay between us and the sea, denying us decent views. This early in the morning though, the golf course was deserted, peaceful and idyllic; we had no time to enjoy the tranquillity though, and pushed on southward at high speed.

We eventually left the golf course and entered into the lightly wooded Braunton Burrows Nature Reserve. This is sporadically closed for use in army exercises, but we’d checked in advance and knew we were okay to enter it. We marched at high speed down sandy army tracks that offered an ideal walking surface, and soon led to a car park near Airy Point where we stopped for what was – astonishingly – our first water break of the day. There were a fair few cars here, mainly owned by people who’d bought their dogs down for a quick walk in the dunes. I’d have loved a last view of the sea before we headed inland along the Taw Estuary to reach Barnstaple, but it was not to be. We followed another track out of the car park, occasionally choked by swirling clouds of sand raised by passing cars.

Leaving the nature reserve, we got our first real views of the estuary. It looked a miserable place compared to the usual views from the coast path. A wide expanse of muddy water slithered noxiously between low, tired looking hills. We passed the tiny drainage ditch that was all that separated Horsey “Island” from the “mainland”, and, as if to try and let us see even more mud, the path rose up onto the top of the dyke that protected Horsey Island from inundation. We didn’t see any horseys, but I may have seen a cow in the distance at one point. Flat, and somehow grey and murky despite the hazy sunshine, the island was distinctly unappealing.

This landscape grew heavy on my soul. Up until now I had (unusually for the morning, when Jim is normally fastest) been leading our charge down Braunton Burrows, but now I grew weary and asked Jim to go in front. This is a big advantage of walking with someone else – by alternating the lead you’re able to maintain a steady pace throughout the day. Relieved of the burden of leadership, I was able to look around a bit more, and as we headed off the main estuary and up the River Caen towards Braunton the path grew a little more interesting. The River Caen is more of a creek, a deep mud-lined channel cut lined with boats stuck in the mud of low tide, some of them in fascinating states of dilapidation.

The SWCP barely touches the edge of Braunton, instead turning aside to follow the route of the old railway line towards Barnstaple. Sometimes old railway lines can be nice to walk, but not this one. It was just long, straight and with hedged edges, meaning that there was little to see apart from the never-ending path ahead. It first of all took us inland of an airfield and then a long military base, neither of which were exactly pleasing to the eye. When the path eventually started to run alongside the estuary (which frankly wasn’t that great an improvement), the huge industrial units on the outskirts of Barnstaple closed in to our left. In addition it had been tarmac’d throughout, which quickly made our feet ache. I did try walking on the grass verge once to alleviate the pain but immediately stepped in some exceptionally smelly dog poop, the odour of which hung around and made me feel ill for several miles afterwards (once again, why can’t dog owners clean up their pet poop?).

The cyclists loved it though, especially those in families. They repeatedly whizzed past us in both directions as we walked the path, clearly enjoying the easy cycling. We did not, however, see one other walker, and the reasons why were pretty obvious. This path was simply not designed for coast path walkers, a big shame given that it’s an integral part of the coast path.

It was as we came into Barnstaple that we realised just how fast we must have walked today. Far from being rushed to get the train, we had over an hour to spare. God knows how we’d done it, but I’m sure I’ve never walked so fast so consistently for so long. It meant we had ample time to slow to a hobble and bemoan the aches in our feet after the 6 miles of tarmac. We also started to have a go at Tarka the Otter. For several days now, the SWCP had shared its route with the Tarka Trail, but somehow the Tarka Trail came to symbolise to us these 6 miles of walking hell – I mean, surely it couldn’t be the fault of the good ole SWCP. It must have been down to that rotten otter!

Despite a pleasant enough quayside redevelopment, Barnstaple had a distinctly jaded air; a town which prospered at some time in the long-distant past and has since sunk into obscurity. If our feet weren’t hurting so much we might have paused to explore a little; as it was we just wanted to get to the station and sit down. As a result we somehow missed seeing the castle mound mentioned in the Aurum Press guide.

Surprisingly, after about 5 minutes rest I felt fine again, and started thinking about lunch. Jim said he was absolutely shattered and refused to move from his seat, so I went off to explore on my own. In the centre of a nearby industrial estate I found a disgusting looking discount superstore, which sold rather dubious (but nonetheless welcome) sandwiches and chocolate bars; I took them back to the station to share with Jim.

Eventually the train pulled into this terminus station, and took us away down the long slow Tarka Line – damn, it’s that darn otter again! When Dad picked us up from Chippenham station, Jim was so weary that he was actually staggering. He refused to even consider doing any more walking for at least two months afterwards. In contrast, apart from the stink of sweat (soon remedied by a long hot bath) I felt as fit as a fiddle. All the training I’d put in during the weeks leading up to the walk had certainly paid off for me!

Apart from those last 6 miles into Barnstaple, I’d thoroughly enjoyed this bit of coast path. Given the choice though, I’d have to pick the Poole to Weymouth stretch over this one, but I’m not sure if I’m just biased because that was my first ever bit of long distance walking. I felt that despite including Great Hangman and Grexy Combe, this section had generally been easier to walk – less steep and with fewer hills than the Dorset stretch. I would say I can’t wait for the next stretch, but I know that heading out of Barnstaple there’s another 6 miles or so of tarmac back along the other side of the Taw Estuary. Maybe we’ll try the south coast again instead…